#Going to play security breach ruin soon and I know nothing about it wish me luck!

[musicblocks]

south park designs!

Butters looks nothing like him-

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[magalidragon]

15, please

Ooooh this one I was really thinking about do we go full fluff or angst or what? Sooooo let us return to a universe that may have been forgotten....Princess Daenerys and her bodyguard Jon (spoiler alert) from my weird mysterious angsty fic bird on a wire. Well in that one he is FORMER and in this one it is set a bit before. Forbidden Love! 💗

Moodboard to come! Enjoy and thank you for the prompt!!

Romantic One Liner Prompts

15. “I’ve missed you so much.”

"Daenerys you look a bit peaky, are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, mother."  She really needed a drink.  And not the ancient Dornish red they were currently drinking with their meal.  It was the weekly family dinner, something her brother instituted the second he became King, in effort to "foster better familial relationships."  It was basically his way of trying to turn them into as normal a family as possible, when they were anything but that.

She lightly touched her fingertips to her temple, a dull ache forming.  It would rage later, she had no doubt, but for now she could only ignore it and listen to Rhaegar wax on about a dull meeting he had with the Minister of Finance, Willas Tyrell, who was near her age but a bit of a wunderkind in finance and politics.

The empty seat across from her was ignored by Rhaegar, and her mother, and it irked Dany.  Viserys was back in the hospital, not that they would acknowledge it beyond simply saying his doctors thought they had his medications worked out and he would be home soon.  She took a deep breath, crumpling her napkin in her lap.  "You know Muna, I am a bit under the weather, I think I will retire early."

Rhaella glanced away from Rhaegar, who was annoyed she'd interrupted him.  Her mother furrowed her brow, concerned.  "Of course darling, I'll send something to your room later..."

"No thank you, I'm not hungry."  She tossed the napkin onto the chair as she stood, shooting a dark look at Rhaegar, who ignored her and sipped his wine.  "Perhaps it's the weather....or the company."

"Daenerys," Rhaella began, sighing.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes.  "Forget it Muna.  Rhae, always a displeasure."

"Daenerys," he began, but it was their mother who cut him off.

"Rhaegar, please.  I'll not have to fight right now."  It was the Queen Dowager who now looked exhausted and peaky, touching her fingertips to her head.  She waved her hand.  "I will see you later Daenerys, I'll check in on you."

I'm not a child, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue, nodding curtly.  She left the dining room, one of the smaller ones they used solely for family functions-- not that there were any of those beyond weekly dinner-- entering the corridor.

Maegor's Holdfast, where the official family residence happened to be, was free of security during non-working hours, to give the resemblance that they lived in a normal home.  If your home happened to be multiple levels of an ancient castle built by dragonriders.  It was a joke to her, an illusion, something out of a movie.  This is not the home you're looking for, type of thing.

Her heels clicked on the stone floors, barely covered with carpets, chilly in the late evening.  She shivered, an impressive feat given her dragonblood that normally kept her hot, and wondered where her security detail happened to be lurking that evening.  She could call them, if she wanted to go out, but this late they might say no, they couldn't guarantee anything.

Trapped would be a word for it.  Caged, another.  They meant the same thing, but that wasn't it at all.  Daenerys felt like her wings were clipped.  She could flit about and pretend she could fly, but she really couldn't.  Not unless she escaped from under their noses.

She went to her room and picked up one of her dump phones, texting missandei.  A moment later she had the address for a party, should she want to go out.  But she didn't.  She sighed, walking through the big open doors onto her terrace.  Her suite was in a tower, because that's what she wanted as a girl, and overlooked the Blackwater Bay, in the direction of Essos.

Wishing she was at Dragonstone, she closed her eyes, allowing the cool night breeze, salty from the sea, to brush through her hair and across her skin, like a lover's caress, gentle and soft.  On Dragonstone the air might have a burnt, ashy tinge to it, curling your nose, but she loved it.  She missed it.

Her eyelids flickered up, spotting the ships in the harbor, scanning the horizon, to the Dragonpit ruins and then to the Sept of baelor.  She could slip out easily.  Ser Gerold, their Chief of Security, was probably asleep in his bed in the Lord Commander's tower.  Arthur would likely be on duty for Rhaegar well into the night, Barristan was her mother's keeper and then there was Jamie Lannister floating about somewhere.

She named off the Kingsguard in her head, the ones that all had their assignments, some off duty that night, some no doubt in a control room, buzzing in anticipation there might be a plot afoot to kidnap the Princess or assassinate the King.  It had happened once.  Actually, twice, if she included that time Rhaegar's car had flipped on the way to Summerhall.  They said it was an accident, but she knew better.  It was Baratheon supporters.

Her nails dug into the stone, her heart empty, achy.  "Brienne might let me leave," she murmured.  Brienne was their newest guard, she was eager to please.

At her feet, her massive leopard-sized cat Drogon fussed, emerging from wherever he'd been hiding.  He yowled, clawing her feet.  "Is this how you greet me?" she teased, leaning down to lift him up.  She hefted him up and down a couple times, chuckling.  "I think you need a diet, young man."

Drogon yowled, protesting.  She knew he was just saying he was big-boned.  She kissed the top of his head, scratching under his chin.  He clawed into her arm, demanding he be put down, and she obliged lest her arm become a new scratching post for him.  He sauntered his fat butt back into her room and over to the tapestry of the three Targaryens and their dragons, pawing at the edge.

Her lips twitched, heart leaping hopefully, and soon her relief washed over her, the tapestry pushing aside and the secret passageway opening to reveal him.

"Oh," she exclaimed, pushing away from the stone wall, hurrying towards him.  Her arms flung around his neck, embracing him tight, her face buried in his dark curls, inhaling the scent that had been fading from her sheets and the oversized sweatshirt she'd stolen from his apartment, with each passing day.

He gripped her close, his exhale hard enough to knock her earrings aside.  He swayed, with her in his arms, her toes touching the tops of his feet, lifting her slightly off the floor.  "I've missed you so much," he mumbled, voice raspy.

"I've missed you too."

Falling back to her feet, she pushed his hair aside, tucking it behind his ear, fingertips stroking down his recently cropped beard.  Regulations being what they were, he had to make sure it wasn't unkempt, which he sometimes preferred it to be, especially when he was gone for a long time, like he had been.  His eyes crinkled with his warm smile, his own hands mapping her face, both reacquainting with the other, until she could take no more.

She cried out, muffled, kissing him before she could stop herself, fingers digging into the back of his neck, her mouth opening easily under his, desperate.  He held her tight, hands branding her hips, pushing her towards the nearest surface, which happened to be a chaise lounge near the door.

The chaise’s soft silk fabric brushed over the back of her legs when she reclined onto it, pulling him over her, kissing hard and demanding, pouring her happiness at seeing him after so long into the kiss.  He broke it, when the need for air forced them apart, and touched his forehead to hers, whispering.  "I was worried about you, that security breach last week."

It was just a drunk, the Aegon's Hill Academy frat boys daring each other to try to jump the fence, but of course he would see it as a legitimate problem.  "I wasn't even here, I was with Missandei," she murmured.

He frowned, tracing his finger down her nose, thumb skimming her swollen bottom lip.  "I wish you wouldn't do that without me."

"Because you want to party too?" she teased, but she knew what he meant.  He was her protector, her shadow, and she was never fully usafe unless he was near her.

He smirked.  "No, because it's been six months."

"Six months," she sobbed.  She had barely spoken to him, sneaking messages when she could.  She laughed again, rolling her eyes.  "Remind me to tell Lord Commander Hightower to never approve your military leave again."

"Better tell your Minister of War to stop fighting with the Free Folk at the Wall."

Her nose wrinkled; she detested Rhaegar's pick for Minister of War, Lord Tywin Lannister, and only knew he gave ihm that position because it meant he could keep an eye on him.  Better to have him near than across the continent, her brother said.  Dany would prefer he be in jail.

She nuzzled into his chest, needing to hold him, listen to his heart, and reassure herself he was there with her and not traipsing about in the snow thousands and thousands of miles away.  "Will you be back on my detail?" she breathed, her heart stilling as she awaited his reply.

He moved so she could stretch over him, so he could play with her hair, and he nodded. "Aye, I believe so.  Last I heard."

"We have to be more careful, I think Viserys knows."

He stilled his movements.  "He...is he good?"

She shrugged.  "Who knows...they keep medicating him.  Regardless, if he says something...I don't know."

"We'll be more careful."

They couldn't be any more careful at this point.  They hardly looked at each other, every interaction strictly professional.  He was her bodyguard, nothing more, nothing less.  She treated him like she did everyone else.  Little did they know that five years ago, since Captain Jon Snow, reserve Night's Watch, walked into the solar and Ser Arthur introduced him to her as her newest lead bodyguard, she had been hopelessly in love with him.

Well, not exactly five months.  It took some time.  He was annoying the first six months.  Then she started to become friends with him.  They grew close.  Closer.  Until about a year in she'd kissed him, when he'd found her after she'd given him the slip, at a warehouse party in Vaes Dothrak, while they'd been over in Essos for a 'goodwill tour.'

It was wrong.  They both knew it.  They both couldn't stop it.  He'd get reassigned at the least, fired at the most, and she didn't want anything to happen to him.

It was a matter of time.

Someone would find out.

She was sure that this latest assignment of him from reserves to active duty for the last six months might have been a sign.  Except he was a drug, she couldn't stop it.  She loved him and he loved her.  "Jon," she murmured, pressing her nose into the shadow dent between his shoulder and collarbone, idly pressing a kiss against his steady pulse.

"Hmm?"  He pulled lazily at her hair, twisting braids around his fingers.  She could die and be the happiest she'd ever been.

Lifting her face to his, she whispered.  "Make love to me."

He smiled slowly and leaned down, kissing her so tenderly, she thought she might break.  Except she wouldn't, because she was a dragon.  She relaxed against him and he lifted her up, carrying her across the sitting area into her bedroom suite.

Some time later, she lay against him as he slept, and stared out the open doors to the balcony and beyond, the moon full and as silver as her hair, glowing into the darkness over them.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, ignoring the sound of reality beating at the door, and returned to sleep, where in dreams she could be Daenerys and he could be Jon.

And not the princess and her bodyguard.

[oneletteredwondered]

Siren Song

Sum: Pirate Remus hears a song on the water and needs to find out what it is. Nothing can console me, but my sailor bold.

Written for @dukexietyweek Day 3: Pirates

Warning: possible manipulation, referring to a creature of unknown origin as ‘it’, mild descriptions of drowning, kisses.

--

Salt isn’t the only thing in the air. The crew can feel it. Anticipation or dread. There’s something dangerous lurking in the water they know. Of course none of them have seen the thing, but it’s in the hit against the hull of the ship, the scratching they can hear late at night, the sound of a song that permeates through the waves. There’s something down there they know, and the captain is eager to find it.

“Simple really,” Mad Captain Remus says to them, securely tying their longest length of rope around his torso. The crew shifts from foot to foot unsure if they should allow this to really happen.

“Pull me up if I scream,” The captain says and falls backwards off the edge of the ship. The crew rushes to the edge and looks over into the water, seeing the line of rope down into the sea foam but none of their captain. They whisper to themselves and take positions near the rope, waiting and waiting for the tug to signal pulling their captain back to deck.

--

It’s cold. The water presses on his chest and constricts his breathing. Remus has a chance to catch another gulp of air then lets the water drag him down. His fingers are already numb but he keeps his body moving to ward off most of the chill. It does little but Remus isn’t one to give in so easily.

Which is mostly true. He’s heard the siren song on the water for weeks now, getting closer to his ship. At first he wanted to destroy the thing, protect his crew from their trickery and potential death. Perhaps sell the hide and teeth for a pretty penny to treat the crew a day of relaxation and well deserved pillaging.

Then he started listening to the song, which is probably his first mistake, part of the trickery involved. He listened, and the song sounded sad, more sad than any he’s ever heard before. Desperation, sorrow, despair. Remus felt it burn inside him and fester till he felt like his flesh would rot due to the emotions whirling inside him. None of the rest of the crew could hear it as well as he could, could feel what he could, it drove him more mad than he already was.

Perhaps that’s what the siren wanted, to make him feel, and give in. Remus doesn’t much feel like he’s giving in even as he breaks the surface of the water to breathe again. He feels dangerous, challenging even, wanting to play the siren at their own game. He takes another deep breath and dives back under the water.

It’s so dark he can barely see through the murk, but he can see enough though it stings his eyes. He spins weightlessly in circles, trying to figure out where the sound of the siren is coming from. Their voice echos through the water and bounces in every direction he can’t directly pinpoint where the singer is. As soon as he thinks he knows where the siren is, the song is behind him, making him spin dizzy in circles.

He pops over the surface of the water again. Refusing to go back to the deck without seeing the siren if it kills him. Which may very well be what the siren wants. He inhales slowly and gathers as much as air as he can, and sinks back down to a song closer than it was before.

His eyes burn with the strain of searching, turning this way and that, trying to catch merely a glimpse of the creature that has been haunting his nightmares. The song is vibrating in his skull now, loud enough to block out the waves above him. He closes his eyes tight and clamps his hands over his water logged ears to block the sound out.

Suddenly it stops. Silence besides the rush of waves. Carefully Remus lowers his hands and opens his eyes to the water around him, coming face to face with rows of sharp jagged teeth.

He blows out a puff of bubbles, clamping a hand over his mouth to not waste any more air as the siren tilts it’s head back and forth at him. His lungs are already burning with a need to breathe but he’ll be Davey Jones himself if he lets this moment pass him.

The siren is there, floating in the water not a foot apart from him. Dangerous points of teeth stick out of their mouth and their eyes are solid glowing purple. Their color marking are hard to pick out in the dark water surrounding them but Remus supposes that’s the point. He can detect hints of grey, black, and that brilliant purple, but nothing definitive.

The siren lets out a coo, trill and sharp and it sends a shiver down Remus’s spine. The siren reacts positively to that, smiling wickedly at him and swimming in a circle around him that causes the length of their body to curl around him possessively. Whatever emotion Remus is feeling at the action he can barely focus on it as his chest begins to spasm.

He lets out the last of a puff of bubbles and thrashes for the surface. He doesn’t quite make it, a hand, cold and quick, wraps around his ankle and yanks him farther downward. He wants to scream or fight, hand reaching for the dagger strapped his side but the siren is faster, hands gripping him and body coiling around him as much as the shark like body will allow.

Remus tries to inhale once, body desperate for something to breathe, and expects to swallow down salt water but that doesn’t happen. Just as he opens his mouth, lips cover his and air, warm and hot, enters his lungs instead. He nearly gasps and ruins the whole thing, watching as the siren’s gills work to breathe water in and air out for him.

Once he feels able to hold his breath he pulls back, surprised the siren lets him. Their hands on his face are colder than the water, eye shimmering with subtle movements. Remus can’t help it. A grin begins to spread across his face, an expression that gets wider when the siren returns it fully showing off their sharp teeth.

Morbid curiosity consumes him and Remus touch the teeth boldly, feeling the point and nearly pricking his finger on it. The siren lets him touch, another trill of noise curling out of their throat. Remus shivers again at the noise. It draws him in, something deep and longing calling him closer to it.

The siren makes another noise, more pointed and direct this time. Despite the water threatening to bring him to his grave, Remus opens his mouth and repeats the noise as best he can. The siren spins around him again, kissing air back into his lungs.

This time Remus knows he has to pull away or he’ll stay down there forever. As tempting as it is. He points up to the surface and siren glares at him, letting out a hissing noise. Still it helps him up. Remus inhales hard once he breaches, coughing up the water that infiltrated his lungs. He can feel the creature curling between his legs as best it can with it’s size, reminding him it’s there.

And Remus wants to stay there, wants to float in the water forever staring at the creature and their hypnotic eyes. He only wishes he could tell if the want is because it wants him, or wants to kill him. He’s scared and excited by both options, which is how he knows he needs to get out fast.

So Remus screams, a strangled sound from his salt water wrecked throat. The reaction is instant. The rope around his torso tugs hard, dragging him upwards, as the siren lurches up, a pained noise escaping them as Remus clambers up the side of his ship. He can hear it crying as he hits the deck, covering his ears with his hands to block out the noise. He wants to dive back down and console the creature, let it keep him forever. It burns his soul and the only thing to stop him from doing so is his crew, using the rope around him to tie him to the mast and hoist the anchor to get the ship moving.

The crying follows them for three days, a wailing noise that has the crew miserable but none as much as Remus. It affects him so much more it seems, able to hear the sound clearer than the others, hear the sorrow in the song that makes him scream and cry. Still he does not return to the water or look over the edge of his ship for three days.

It’s on the evening of the fourth night that something changes. The song is softer this time, more subdued, begging now instead of demanding. That’s not what gets Remus to stand from his chamber and stumble his way out to the deck to lean over the edge of his ship looking for purple scales. It’s the fact he can understand the words being sung to him.

“My heart is pierced by cupid, my disdain all glitter and gold, there is nothing can console me.. but my sailor bold.” The song stings right through him, his soul vibrating with knowing he is the sailor being sung about and the words leave his mouth before he can think.

“His hair hangs in ringlets, his eyes black as coal, my happiness attend him, wherever he may go.” He’s lucky, or perhaps unlucky, none of the rest of the crew is around to hear him or see him. He scans the water, nearly desperate as the song, when the siren surfaces, letting out a coo to him. Relief floods Remus’s system at seeing them, something settling his frayed nerves at being apart. He mimics the noise back and siren smiles. They open up their arms to him and coo again. Come down here.

The urge to jump is commanding. Remus holds fast and instead repeats the noise with a gesture up. Come this way. The siren grimaces at him and coos again, more forcefully. Come down, please. Remus does not. He shakes his head and siren lets out a cry that hurts. Please.

Remus wants to. He wants to jump over the edge and follow the siren wherever they may lead him. He can’t. Not knowing their intentions with him.

“How can I understand you now?” He finds himself asking, clawing at the banister of his ship, anything to ground him to where he is. He debates tying himself down if it’ll help his urge. The siren tilts their head at him and smiles with their teeth, letting out a trill of a noise.

You belong to the sea, to me. The siren says. Remus knows this. Seven seas save him he knows this.

“What do you want with me?” He asks then. The siren smiles more genuinely at that and disappears under the water. Remus nearly does jump then, not wanting this to be over, but the siren appears again, shooting up out of the water claw their way up the boat. Once they’re close enough, Remus leans over and helps them settle on the edge. 

He can see all the patterning of their body now, swirls of purple and black and grey, blending into one another it’s hard to say where one color ends and another begins. Their eyes now have a ring of black around the edges of the purple, adjusting to being out of the water. They coo and drag a finger across Remus’s cheeks softly and he melts into the cold touch.

I want everything, you are mine. The siren says and Remus kisses them. He cuts his lip on their teeth but it’s nothing compared to the feel of their scaled skin under his hands.

“Stay with me,” Remus finds himself asking. The siren coos happily and Remus echoes the noise. The night is wiled away cooing at each other until the first of the crew wakes. They catches Remus curled in the arms of the siren, both sleeping on the deck. The creature leaps over the edge of the boat as quick as it can and Remus jumps to watch them fall into the water until they can’t be seen any more.

Whatever questions the crew has he can not answer. He is unsure of the nature of what just happened himself. But come next night, he’s tying a rope to his torso and jumping overboard. The siren catches him and trills and teaches Remus it’s language.

Despite the concern, the pattern continues, a night above, a night below. Perhaps worrying when Remus begins to grow gills on the side of his neck, but he’s the same reckless captain the crew knows. Reckless as anything when he spends his nights with a deadly sea creature.

Word spreads when another ship threatens to attack, half the crew jumping overboard with a glossy look in their eyes and the sounds of a siren’s feast follow after. The crew wasn’t sure to be fearful or thankful considering the siren had not done the same to them. Remus couldn’t have been more besotted.

The rumors spread and when the crew docks, Remus stays on the ship with his siren. The crew tells hims tales of what everyone says and he laughs with them and they laugh when the siren trills from over the edge. They are feared even more now on the waters than ever before and they take full advantage of so.

Davey Jones prays for those who come across Mad Captain Remus and siren song for a lover.

[horde-princess]

omg 17 would be perfect

Sorry this took so long! I’ve been soo busy and kinda distracted with the new season ✨ There are still a few prompts in my inbox, plus Home Is A Lonely Place, not to mention all the meta i still wanna write sldjfskj there’s a lot going on

but anyway i yelled when i read what 17 was tysm for sending it!!! 💖 this is filled with angst and does get a little spicy so. take care of yourselves out there

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

Adora twisted against her handcuffs uselessly, wrists chafed and bloody, before finally giving up and dropping her hands into her lap. Her head was buzzing with fatigue and hunger, her muscles ached from spending the night in a Horde prison cell that was about as comfortable as a bed of nails. Still, it offered a semblance of safety, and for that she was grateful–since every second spent trapped here was time that she might have spent being, well, dead.

The Rebellion defense had been a total disaster. No, that was a lie–Adora was the only one to blame. She let Catra manipulate her again, choosing to save her friend’s life even knowing it would result in defeat. Why Hordak took her captive instead of killing her on the spot was a terrifying mystery that Adora preferred not to unravel right now. She couldn’t let fear paralyze her. She had to think of a way to get out of here. She had to get back to Glimmer and Bow, she had to help her friends–

A sudden movement in the darkness outside her cell startled her. She sat up straight against the wall, blowing loose hair out of her face. Whatever they did to her, she wouldn’t let them see her spirit broken.

But the shadowy figure was… familiar. Adora’s heart rate picked up and she watched as the door slid open to reveal the only person who actually did have the power to break her. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Catra’s expression unreadable. Adora was expecting insults from her, or mockery, but… none came. Truthfully, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Catra frowned, marched over, and yanked Adora up to her feet by the handcuffs, causing her to hiss in pain.  

“Let’s go.”

When Adora resisted, Catra gripped her arm painfully and dragged her out of the cell anyway. Her animosity never ceased to feel like some kind of fucked up hallucination.

“Catra, don’t do this!”

“Would you shut up?” she snapped. “If you get us caught, we’re both dead.”

She released her and pulled out a tablet, glancing nervously around the empty atrium.

“Wait… what do you mean ‘if we get caught?’”

Catra grit her teeth. She touched the screen and there was a quiet click as a door near them unlocked.

“I’m trying to get you out of here, dumbass.”

Adora felt like the world just slipped off its axis. She must have been more exhausted than she’d realized because there was no way she’d heard that right. But hope clawed at her insides anyway, demanding and vengeful, struggling to escape the little coffin she had shoved it into long ago and buried six feet underground.

“You’re… helping me escape?”

Catra shot her a glare then started walking again, pulling Adora along with her. Hostility emanated off her in waves. They passed through the doorway and started down a deserted corridor, broken lights flickering eerily. 

“But why?”

She rounded on Adora, stoic anger turning fierce. “Do you know what Hordak wants to do to you?!” she whispered. “He’s not just going to kill you, Adora! He wants to torture you, corrupt your powers–prod you like a lab rat until there’s nothing left.”

Adora had guessed as much, but that wasn’t really what she meant.

“I don’t get it, isn’t that what you wanted all along? I mean… you’ve been trying to get rid me ever since I…”

Left. Abandoned you. Ruined everything. She didn’t know how to say it aloud. 

Catra was quiet for a moment, then she sneered.

“No one gets to take you down but me. Got it? Especially not fucking… Hordak. And if I can ruin one of his plans while I’m at it, all the better.”

There it was again, fluttering madly in the deepest recesses of Adora’s chest. Hope.

“But why not just take me out now?” she pressed, wishing Catra would just tell her the truth, for once. “I don’t have my sword, I’m powerless.”

“Yeah, well, exactly!” Catra sputtered. “You’re all chained up and pathetic right now. It wouldn’t be a good fight.”

“…Catra–”

“We just have to get to the–Shit. Someone’s coming.”

Searching frantically for an escape, Catra pulled her into a niche in the hallway. 

The space was tight and dark, and Adora could feel Catra’s shallow breaths, and every accidental touch of their bodies sent a wave of anxiety screeching down her spine like nails on a chalkboard. All at once she realized exactly what Catra was risking by trying to save her. If she got caught… it would be the end of her.

The guards’ voices drifted over to them, getting closer. There must have been three of them, maybe more.

“…weird signal coming from the prison block.”

“No, it’s three in the damn morning. It must be a glitch.”

Catra took a steadying breath. “There’s no way they won’t see us here. How many can you take?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just take down some armed gunmen with my hands cuffed.”

Catra groaned quietly, clenching her fists, and Adora could see the wheels in her head turning. Then her body went slack and her eyes filled with what could only be described as… horror.

Unmitigated horror. 

Adora blinked at her.

“Catra?–”

“We have to kiss,” she breathed.

Adora’s brain slowly faltered to a stop like an overworked motor.

“…Um. What.”

“Think about it! Why else would two teenagers be hiding in a dark corner in the middle of the night? If we can play it right, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

The voices were getting louder with each passing second and Adora was experiencing a strong wave of nausea. 

“You can’t be serious,” she rasped.

“Well I don’t hear you coming up with any bright ideas!”

The shuffle of boots echoing down the hall suddenly stopped.

“Hey, did you hear something?” A woman’s voice said, her flashlight beam sweeping near them.

Catra held her breath and Adora did the same, feeling like the blood in her veins had been replaced with electric current.

“Check the door over there.”

Catra was so close, and so warm, and so Catra; and if she closed her eyes she could imagine they were just kids again, sneaking around the Fright Zone, getting into trouble together. She could forget everything that had happened the past few months, all the pain they had caused each other. She could forget this was a life or death situation. She could forget that Catra hated her fucking guts.

…Though, apparently, not quite as much as she once did.

“Nothing here, boss,” one of the guards said.

“Keep moving, I know I heard something.”

It was dark, but not dark enough to hide them once the flashlight illuminated the space. As soon as the guards walked past them they’d be spotted. They’d be asked to identify themselves, if they didn’t already know their faces… fuck.

“…It has to look convincing,” Adora choked out.

Catra met her eyes, expression carefully neutral. 

“Take off your badge.”

Catra did as instructed. Adora moved behind her so her back was to the wall, hiding her tied hands from view. The guards were closing in fast. Catra’s face suddenly turned pale.

“You know what? This was a stupid idea.”

“Huh?”

“There’s no way they’ll just let us go… what if–I could take them myself, right? I  fight giant killing machines all the time–”

“Catra, they have guns–”

“Or I could tell them who I am, say I was just taking you to the–”

“Catra!”

The guards were feet away and the light was sweeping towards them and before she could think too much about it Adora surged forward and crushed her lips to Catra’s.

The earth seemed to drop out from under her.

God, it was so… wrong. It was fake and bitter and poisoned and fuck, it shouldn’t have happened like this, it shouldn’t have happened like this.

It took a second for Catra to respond, but then Adora felt her moving deliberately to make it look natural. She wrapped an arm around her waist, roughly pressing Adora between the wall and her body. The whole thing lasted for all of two seconds before she sensed a light shining on them.

“Oh–”

“What–”

“Shit–”

Adora’s head spun as Catra pulled her lips away and turned to address the guards, keeping her hands on Adora and her body pressed close. She was functioning at about a half a percent mental capacity and couldn’t begin to imagine how Catra was handling this so easily.

(Maybe it hurt her ego. So what?)

“The fuck?” Catra griped loudly. “Can we get some privacy?”

“Sorry, ladies, there’s been a security breach and–we didn’t mean to, uh–we’re supposed to check your badges–”

“We’re a little busy, here,” she interrupted, flipping them off as she turned back to Adora with a dangerous smirk. 

Her previous distress was all but gone now, masked over with an exaggerated confidence. She gave Adora a meaningful look, then leaned in and caught her lips in a sensual, open-mouthed kiss. And now that her brain had caught up with her body… Adora was on fire.

The guards, the prison, the Horde, the Rebellion–it all disappeared in a puff of smoke as Catra’s tongue twisted with hers, two opposite forces coalescing, and nothing in the world mattered but this, nothing existed apart from this. If Catra were to stop kissing her, she thought the fabric of her universe might rip apart. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the guards walking away, but Catra wasn’t stopping the kiss, and every touch, every swirl of her tongue was bringing Adora closer to some kind of breaking point. Catra slipped a thigh between hers and a soft moan escaped her, she couldn’t control her body’s response anymore, and it definitely wasn’t part of any act.

Catra must have realized that, too, because she immediately pulled back to look at her, wearing the most smug expression Adora had ever seen on someone. Heat rose in her cheeks as reality slowly pulsed back into focus. 

The guards were gone. The universe was, somehow, still intact.

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask, princess.”

Asshole. Adora wanted to smack the mocking grin off her face. Too bad her hands were tied.

“What–I don’t–Screw you! That was way past ‘convincing!’”

Catra cocked an expectant eyebrow and Adora relented with a sigh.

“Sorry. I… I know you’re just trying to help me.”

For some reason that made Catra’s smile fall. She leaned in again, lips close, her scent washing over Adora, smokey and intoxicating.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

They locked eyes for a long, tense moment. The taste of her lingered on Adora’s tongue and her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid Catra might hear it. There were no guards, no threats… it was just her and Catra this time. Catra, the person who had vowed to destroy Adora and everything she cared about. Catra, who was supposed to be her enemy. Catra… who was currently saving her life. 

“We should…” Adora licked her lips. “We should go.”

“Yeah,” Catra agreed.

But the second Catra’s eyes fell to her lips Adora was pushing forward and kissing her for the third time that night, giving into something furious and insane and probably inevitable. Catra sighed into her mouth as her hands raked down Adora’s body and she struggled against the handcuffs, not even feeling the pain of it, just desperate to touch her, and–fuck–this wasn’t fair–

Reading her mind, Catra raised Adora’s arms above her head and pinned them there with one hand, the other moving down to lift her leg around her hip. Adora swallowed back a whine as Catra pressed flush against her body–her kiss urgent now, consuming–and Adora arched into her, giving up any pretense of dignity or self-control. She was unraveling more with every new touch and she decided she didn’t care how fucked up this was anymore… she didn’t care if Catra was manipulating her, whether she hated her or not–what did it even matter? There was such a mess of emotion between them, it was impossible to make sense of, and if this was how it manifested in Catra, she really didn’t mind. 

Then, with a harsh movement–seemingly out of nowhere–Catra broke the kiss.

It was like having the wind knocked out of her. Adora slowly came to her senses and felt how Catra was struggling to control her breathing, fingers trembling against Adora’s jaw. The silence stretched between them. When she finally spoke, her voice was dark and… devastated.

“…What are you doing to me?”

Adora didn’t have an answer.

Catra’s grip on her loosened, she stepped away, and it left Adora feeling ice cold in the absence of her touch.

“Catra, I…”

What could she say? That she was sorry? She wasn’t. She was selfish, and stupid, and cowardly, but absolutely nothing in her was sorry. 

Not for this, anyway.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Catra stated rigidly.

Adora wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to convince. Still, the weight of the words crushed her. She had nothing left, her cards were all on the table. If Catra were to ever use this against her… she almost laughed at the thought.

Catra turned away from her and walked out into the hallway, but Adora was afraid to move, afraid to shatter the illusion.

This doesn’t change anything. The words echoed in her mind over and over again.

“So that’s it?”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah.”

Catra looked back at her and jerked her head towards the exit, then walked away without waiting for Adora to follow.