#doc ock x may | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ichorai · 11 months

Text

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

12K notes · View notes

empiremurderer · 2 years

Text

WIP game

Tagged by @chrism02

I got some Sweet Fredo fics on the backburner!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!) I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DnD campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!!

Bad Guy, Good Heart

Historian's Sorcerer

Worth Fighting For

Salem's Undercity Lot

Truth Spell

#WIP #Maxim Horvath #Doc Ock x Aunt May #Grayson x Mel #Grayson Arcane #Mel Medarda #Arcane #Jasmine x Jafar

1 note · View note

shedobewritingalittle · 10 months

Text

I Know The End

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: She meets him. They fall in love. She dies, he mourns. The cycle continues.

Rating: R

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, mildly graphic descriptions of death, grief, mentions of injury

In every universe, she dies.

It was a canon event-completely unstoppable if they wanted the multiverse to stay together.

Every Spider-Person knew this. Every time they saw a version of her at HQ, they knew not to get too attached. She'd disappear and another version would take its place, looking slightly different from the previous version of her, but her nonetheless.

In every universe, she also fell in love with Miguel O'Hara.

It was a canon event and Miguel had to just let it happen, no matter how much it hurt him.

Every time she'd swing into his life, he had to let the cards fall where they may, even if he knew exactly where they led to.

In one universe, she had a baby who looked just like the two of them. She balanced being a mom and being Spider-Woman almost effortlessly. Miguel, once again, was able to play dad, was able to pretend like this could be his life. He would spend the night in her universe, sleeping with her in the bed, helping her with the midnight diaper changes and three a.m. feedings. Hell, he had even thought about marrying her, wanting so bad to ignore the canon, wanting to find a way that he can have his cake and eat it too.

She had gotten impaled on some rebar after saving a kid from Green Goblin and the others had got there too late to do anything about it. Peter B. Parker had watched as Miguel lifted her off of it, her blood staining his suit. He could hear as his friend whispered something to her over and over in Spanish. Peter had kept his distance, knowing that Miguel needed this moment. Her daughter-the one that had his hair and her eyes-went to live with her mother's family in California.

In another, she was a nurse. She helped save lives off and on the clock. She would tend to the other Spider-People's wounds, stitching them up when needed, giving IV's and injections and millions other things. They had spent so many nights together in his room post-mission where she’d take care of him. Her lip drawn between her teeth as she carefully focused on her work. As soon as she was done, as soon as she came out of that almost trance-like state, his lips would be on her skin, wanting to repay her. Medical supplies would be tossed to the floor, injuries ignored.

She had gotten taken out by her universe's Doc Ock. Miguel had personally hunted him down after that, unable to control his rage. Peter B. and Hobie had to drag him off of the guy.

In one, she had been married to someone else, but that hadn't stopped the relationship from forming. She'd slip away from her universe and into Miguel's, and in between helping take down anomalies, she'd be in his bed. She had been sick the whole time and every time she used her powers she had gotten worse. They could all see it-the gradual decline even if she wouldn’t tell them outright, but Miguel knew. He wouldn't let her do missions anymore, but she still continued to be Spider-Woman in her universe. She died in her sleep beside the man she was married to, but not the one she loved. Miguel had attended the funeral, but had kept his distance. He had waited and watched as she had been buried. He had been the last one to leave the cemetery that day.

There were versions of her that were artists, models, chefs, actresses, teachers, but they were all her. And they all fell in love with him, one after another. No one could stop it, no one could prevent it. It was just fate.

She meets him. They fall in love. He mourns. And then the cycle continues.

The Y/N they had right now, she has lasted longer than all of the others. She had been with them for a few years now, which has felt like a lifetime compared to the time they got with the rest of them. That had only made them all uneasy. Every mission, every missed visit to HQ, they all thought that was going to be it, but then she'd show up, a smile on her face and jokes spilling out of her mouth without a second thought . Miguel was constantly checking in on her, which was something she teased him about.

"I guess you really do like me, eh bug boy?"

God, he did.

It was terrifying how attached to her he was, how his whole demeanor seemed to change as soon as she enters a room. His stoicism and broodiness completely melts away, no instead he gives her a version of himself that no one else sees (save for maybe Mayday-she's a baby, so how could he be a dick to her?). At first, Jess and Peter B. used to tease him about it, but as Y/N died over and over, the teasing came to an end. Now all they could offer was sad smiles when Miguel talked about her.

He was selfish-he wished he could keep her at HQ forever. Miguel wanted to ignore the canon and just hold onto her as long as he could, keeping her all to himself. Who cares if the multiverse falls apart? He’d have her, he’d have a life with her. That’s all he needed, isn’t it?

But he’d never go against the canon.

"I know, you know. How this ends. That we are doomed to repeat this over and over." She announces one right, moonlight-or at least what she thinks is moonlight-streaming in through the gaps of his curtains, his room smelling like the two of them-a mixture of her perfume, his cologne, sweat, and sex. Her finger absentmindedly traces a mark she’d had left on his skin moments ago. He sits up in bed, looking at her with wide eyes. His mind was racing. Had someone told her? Had he somehow let it slip? How did she know?

"Y-You do? Mierda. Why didn't you say anything?" He questions, his brows furrowed together. She shrugs, tucking an arm behind her head as she looks at him, as if it wasn't a big deal that she knew about her own coming demise.

"What's the point, cariño? I die, I come back, this starts all over again. Why spoil the time I get with you?" She responds, her eyes focused on him, "It's me and you, always."

"It's me and you, always."

She said it so nonchalantly, as if a piece of him doesn't die with every version of her that does. As if he doesn’t meticulously check for signs of the next version of her after she disappears from his life. As if it doesn’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders when she starts to don her black and pink Spider suit, because he knows he’ll be with her soon. He lets his eyes shut for a moment as her fingers trace a scar on his shoulder. He thinks about what he should say, about if he should be upset that she knew and didn't tell him. But it's Y/N, and he can't bring himself to be mad at her.

"How long have you known?" Miguel asks, his eyes opening and landing on her. In the moonlight, he could see that her neck and chest were littered with marks-bruising from sucking at her skin, angry red lines from where he had dragged his fangs against her, puncture marks from biting her. They had already started to heal, just like the matching marks on his skin had started to.

"I think we all know-at least I did. We get bits and pieces of it, of you mainly. Of a life with you. I think for the most part, we all think it's a dream-that you're just a hot guy in a dream and then we meet you." Y/N explains, her gaze turning soft as the corners of her mouth turn upward. He keeps himself from rolling his eyes at her little “hot” compliment, his mind still reeling.

The rest is left unsaid-the fact that she can see all the different ways she has met her end, how she knows how it feels to die. The feeling of falling on that rebar, the sickening snap of her neck, her being strangled by a Doc Ock’s tentacle, the crushing feeling of a building falling on top of her, choking on her own blood, the feeling of her organs spilling out-

Sometimes she’ll reach down and expect to feel metal sticking out of her, tearing her apart.

"And you're-You're okay with that?" Miguel's eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks at her. Her eyes were on him, but she wasn’t there, not fully. He wished he could take a peak inside of her mind, wanting-no, needing to know how much she could remember. He studies her face in the moonlight, trying to read her, trying to understand how she could be so…okay with all of this.

"I still get a forever with you, don't I? I still get to live a life with you, even if it's just bits and pieces." Her voice is soft as her smile starts to grow ever so slightly, "And I'd take that any day."

His lips are suddenly against hers once more, his hand cupping her cheek. She’s a little surprised, but returns it eagerly, her hand slipping into his locks, holding him to her. Y/N knows that Miguel isn’t good at expressing his feelings, that talking about his feelings is like pulling teeth for him. She also knows what the kiss means, what he wants to say. Each kiss, each bite, each thrust-she can decipher them all.

I wish we had more time.

I wish it wasn’t like this.

I want this, with you, forever.

This isn’t enough.

I can’t keep watching you die over and over.

I need you.

It’s me and you always.

This Y/N still meets her end, just like the dozens of others before her.

When she goes this time, she’s in his arms, crimson spilling out of her, covering both of them. She’s looking up at him, tears in her eyes from the pain as she gives him a small, pained smile.

“Don’t be sad, pendejo. I’ll see you again, yeah?” She says hoarsely, blood covering her lips. He leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. He stays there a moment, his eyes shut. When he pulls away, there’s tears streaming down her face, but she is still trying to smile at him, trying to tease him. Even like this, she’s still trying to make him feel better. So Miguel tries to smile back at her, but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace.

“Yeah. You’ll see me again.” He murmurs, wiping away her tears. It’s more like he’s reminding himself rather than agreeing with her. He swallows the lump in his throat, “It’s you and me.”

“It’s you and me.” Y/N manages to get out, her breathing more ragged. Her hand moves to rest on top of his, where’s he’s putting pressure on her wound even though they both know there’s no point. Her fingers intertwine with his and he holds her hand. There’s tears streaming down his face, his like there is every time he watches her dies.

Miguel just sits there, holding her hand long after her body stills, her head laying on his chest. He knows eventually he will have to get up, that he will have to take her back to her universe. For now, he just sits there with her, holding her body to his, quietly telling her all of the things that were left unsaid.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099

467 notes · View notes

vvaspoppie · 6 months

Text

Doc Ock x Symbiote!Reader

→ Author’s Note: Requested this from another writer (that’s also really cool), and decided to also write my own version. No specified version of Ock, pre and post evil versions are mentioned.

→⚠ Warnings ⚠: unethical science,

→ Fandom: Unspecified

→ Genre: Headcanons

→ Pronouns: They/Them

The Backstory:

You were a scientist who worked on studying the organic matter samples Colonel Jameson had brought to earth. Unfortunately, one of those samples was capable of a lot more movement than originally believed.

Long story short: Some of it bonded with you, you quit soon after due to not wanting anyone to get suspicious then started working at Oscorp.

Pre Tentacles:

He, and almost every other co-worker, is a little bit curious about the fact that you quit your last job to work at Oscorp but drops the subject after the mention of an NDA (which wasn’t true)

Notices you talking to yourself a lot, but doesn’t question it much. Most of the scientists he works with have an odd habit or two.

You totally slip up and call yourself 'we' in a conversation, which he does bring up

"There's a perfectly reasonable explanation if you give me enough time to think of a lie."

On to the actual dating

You guys keep it on the down low and by that I mean absolutely nobody knows. He likes privacy

His love language is talking about his experiments and asking you about yours (and physical touch but that takes a while)

The symbiote makes the relationship difficult, especially because he doesn't know about it

You don’t ever tell him about the symbiote, the symbiote speaks for itself (literally, and to a disastrous extent)

He takes a while to process it, but once he does he shares his work on his tentacles

He tries not to think of the moral implications of the whole situation because he loves you and knows you wouldn't do harm intentionally (he is wrong)

Post Tentacles:

Ok so in most versions Otto goes missing for a brief time after the accident™

So what happens in this brief time?

Chaos. Pure chaos and fear

Not only are you distraught and angry but your symbiote also formed an emotional attachment

Absolutely no one gets a break. Criminals, civilians, co workers, Norman even Spider-Man

The streets are filled with nothing but fear and it stays like that until you get your Otto back

At which point:

Yay, evil power-couple time!

I mean what did you expect, you’re the host to a symbiote that eats people to survive and likes to commit crimes; there is almost nothing he could do that you either 1) haven’t already done or 2) had to literally fight yourself not to do

He changed after the accident, and it reminds you of when you first bonded with your symbiote. You try and be patient, knowing that he's still the same person, just with a different attitude and outlook on life.

With some communication skills being flexed, the relationship works out well

He also gains a new thing to be mad at the world about (Tabloids keep calling him a monsterfucker and so does your Symbiote)

It's that whole Roger and Jessica Rabbit thing except no one knows who's Roger or Jessica at any given moment.

You keep working at Oscorp to keep suspicions low and provide insider information

Yes, the suit makes you look very good - now do you want to be part of the Insidious Sinister Six or not?

You don’t want to fight Spider-Man head-on most of the time (much to the Symbiote's chagrin) so you agree to work with them, but not be on the team.

Anyway you end up kicking ass and now half the team is scared of you (Much to the Symbiote’s delight) (remember that episode in the 90s show were Venom Spider-Man almost kills Rhino and Shocker? Yeah you do something like that)

His ego may be nearing the size of the sun, but even then he’s slightly scared of what would happen if your symbiote gained full control. (Your symbiote likes him so his nerves are good, but still makes sure nothing happens that affects your memories)

Speaking of which he wants to do some - totally not evil because he loves you- experiments revolving around the Symbiote

Overall, the relationship is wholesome, if not unconventional.

#pop se sierskrif #doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #tssm x reader #doc ock #marvel x reader #x reader #symbiote reader

98 notes · View notes

mara-tevith-solo · 10 months

Text

It Takes Two

This is my second failed attempt to do a short, simple one-shot for this guy, Jeez Louise. Enjoy! Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Eventual Miguel O’Hara x Enhanced ex-Avenger Reader

Warnings: They’re idiots, full dance around your feelings and gaslight yourself about them idiots, injury, blood, violence, mention of miscarriage, Concussion Confessions, Mayday being a cutie pie, Peter B being the Dad, use of Spanish as a none-native speaker but i tried finding actual Mexican Spanish terms

Rated: PG-13 but still, please no minors

Words: 1.6k+

Miguel O'Hara was an enigma. At least to you he was. To everyone else he was stern, stoic, even unpleasant and harsh. To you he was... different. It's hard to ever imagine the man as soft, but with you he very much was. He was always making sure that you were alright, that your workload wasn't more than you could comfortably handle, that your mental and physical health stayed a priority to you. He even went out of his way to make sure you never skipped a meal, especially when you were so thrown into a project that you forgot what day it was.

You weren't even supposed to be there, in the Spider Society. You weren't a Spider-Person. You were an enhanced ex-Avenger from Earth-199999 that he'd... taken pity on? You weren't even sure why he'd initially invited you to join the Society. No one was, not even Lyla. You just knew that he had a habit of seeking out your proximity, even if neither of you said a word.

"Y/n! There you are! Get suited up! Boss man needs you on deck!" Peter B materialized in front of you as you worked on a random engine you'd found lying around, earning a small yip and a quick juggling of the wrench you'd been using. Mayday found it entertaining at least, giggling her cute little cheeks off and clapping her little hands.

"B, you're lucky I like your kid, 'cause sometimes I'd like to sucker punch you whenever you scare me." You were joking, of course, and he knew it too, chuckling as he stroked May's fiery mane.

"Oh no. Can't have me face the consequences of my own actions. That would end the world!" His sarcasm kept her little giggles going as he lifted her high in the air. You couldn't name the intense emotion blooming in your chest in that moment, it was consuming and aching, like a sailor's widow looking for him to return every day up on a windy cliff. It felt like something was getting sucked through your chest as your gaze on the little toddler turned melancholy. Peter B was many things, and surprisingly observant was definitely one of them, though he had more than enough practice when Mary Jane was pregnant. He knew longing when he saw it, and he'd seen it on you more than once when interacting with Mayday, though he could swear they were getting less frequent and less intense the more time you spent with his little bundle of joy. He knew your life hadn't been all sunshine and roses, he knew that you'd once been expectant of your own little bundle, but Thanos had brutally taken that from you to hurt your then husband. And when you thought no one was looking, he saw the glances you centered on Miguel. "They're gonna be ready to go here soon, so you should get a scuttle on." He hinted with a warm half-smile.

You snapped out of your daze with a solid nod, offering the Spider and Spiderling a warm smile before quickly making your way to Miguel's office, where you knew that the tall futuristic man liked to start from. It didn't take you long to get there, your mask in hand as his gaze found you over the heads of the others, warming to a garnet shade from its usual intense ruby "Now that we're all here, we need to get a move on. Remember, we're dealing with two different Doc Ocks this time." Everyone nodded to him in understanding, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before a portal appeared with a deep thrum.

The city on the other side was in chaos, several flipped and destroyed cars on fire, people running and screaming in all directions, understandably so. Jess already had wheels on the ground, waiting for you as you hopped on the back and crouched, ready for her to slingshot you at the closest adversary. Your Volto mask suddenly felt claustrophobic, cutting off part of your peripheral vision, but right then wasn't the time to fix it. The click of the gearbox was your only warning that you were about to be catapulted, Jess bringing the bike down to neutral as she kicked out the backend right as you jumped, sending you sailing through the air and into an Ock who looked like he'd come straight from a silent hill horror film. He cried out in frustration as you latched onto him, immediately dodging his bladed mechanical arms, coated in fresh blood as you began scrambling to disable the arms. "Get off of me you halfwit!" He snarled at you with a voice like gravel and grit, the flash of his teeth reminding you of a shark's.

"Not until you stop rampaging in the wrong Universe, genius!" You snapped back, ducking wildly to avoid getting scalped. Other Spiders joined you, red and white webs trying to take control of his arms so that you could work in relative peace. You had the tip of your knife in the neural link, prying it out of his flesh as he began crying in pain and fear, his arms whirring and snapping frantically, trying to get to you. A strangled cry was your only warning before something solid hit you like a freight train, sending you flying away from the fight, a weird pressure just under your right collarbone, one that simultaneously stung and felt cold. You didn't have time to contemplate why as your back made hard contact with a concrete pillar, knocking the breath from your lungs without mercy as you fell the short distance to the ground.

Your ears were ringing so loudly you almost forgot what sounds were, your eyelids too heavy to work properly as you struggled for breath. You were in pain, bone deep, radiating pain that made you want to curl into a ball and sleep for a year as you laid there on your side in the dirt. You tried getting up on your hands and knees in a bid for air and to relieve some of the pain, your ears still ringing and your eyes barely opening, but blinding, shooting pain on the right side of your chest stopped you in your tracks. You could hear someone shouting, you couldn't hear what they were saying as your fight for air became more desperate, something rattling in your chest with every attempt. Your eyes finally opened fully as hands made contact, large warm hands that helped to center you against the pain. Miguel was crouched over you, his mask still in place but you could see the panic in the eyes of it "...'me on! You can do it, Y/n! Just one breath." You were shocked at how panicked he sounded as the ringing dissipated, but your body obeyed, sucking in a ragged, greedy lung full of air before repeating the process over and over. "Good, good. Buena chica."

You watched as he shrunk in on himself, taking big breathes of his own, his relief clear "Miguel..." You breathed, licking your lips under your mask "did we..."

"We got 'em." He nodded, one of his hands petting your hair "Let's get you back home." He was gentle as he picked you up, cradling you as close to his chest as he could, not letting anyone take you when they offered. He was adamant that none of them could see how afraid to lose you he'd suddenly been, how afraid that he had lost you he'd been. He couldn't stop that small vibrating purr he made as your head tucked itself in the crook of his neck, his hands clutching you closer in silent response. He felt guilty, like absolute shit, that you'd gotten hurt because his web had snapped, that little voice that liked to reside in the back of his mind telling him that you needed to go back to your Universe and stay there, that you'd be safer there. But the more rational part of him reasoned that at that moment, he needed to focus on getting you to medical, getting you better. He'd deal with the after later. "Stay awake, Cielo. Need you to stay awake right now." He could feel your breathes beginning to deepen, feel you relaxing into him more than you should have as he stepped through the portal.

"'M so tired, Mig." You mumbled your argument, nuzzling your masked face deeper into his neck "'N you're so comfy."

Any other situation he would have found somewhere comfortable for him and taken a nap with you, held you the entire time. But you were hurt, concussion was too heavy a possibility for him to just let you rest "No, come on, Y/n. You need to stay awake a bit longer. We're almost there." He let his concern and fear temper his tone, trying to get your hurt brain to understand the severity of the situation.

"You worry too much, Mig." You hummed softly, your filter long gone and your ability to worry about it gone with it "You should relax, you're so pretty when you smile." He couldn't feel your dopey little smile, but he could certainly hear it, feel how it made his heartrate spike wildly. His mind felt frozen, unable to fully process that you at the very least liked his smile.

"You're delirious." He huffed as he quickened his pace, trying to pass off your words as just concussed nonsense.

"Maybe," You conceded "but it doesn't change the fact that I've had the biggest crush on you this past year." He wondered, in his stuttering thoughts, if you realized that you were admitting all of that to him, if you were aware of what that mouth of yours was doing.

He was relieved as he passed the threshold of the Medical Wing, several Spider-Doctors rushing to take you from him "We'll talk about this when you're better, Cielo. Until then, survive." Without another word he was passing you to the nearest medical professional and watching as they whisked you away as quickly as possible, talking in medical jargon that he couldn't fully understand.

#miguel o'hara x reader #Spider-Man 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider-verse #Avenger reader

274 notes · View notes

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

137 notes · View notes