#Running his little puppet Octavius

[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, NSFT occasionally, 18+, Female Reader

AO3 link!

Previous Chapter

Chapter 15

bad at love // mayday parade 

It rings. 

And rings. 

And rings.

Maybe he won't answer, you find yourself hoping, palms feeling clammy and your tummy filling with knots. Maybe he won't- 

"It's a little late to be calling, don't you think, Y/N?" Suave and smooth, just like you remember. So much for it all just having been a bad dream. 

"You know it's me?" You breathe out, but you shouldn't really be surprised. After all, you're starting to feel more and more like a puppet on a string, the role of marionette passing between Harry and Otto endlessly. Just playing your part for both of them, with so little say in the matter for yourself. You can hear the soft chuckle come from the other end of the receiver and you despise the way he makes you feel so… silly. Immature, ridiculous. Like he's leagues above you and while that may be true, you certainly don't need the reminder. 

"Why don't you tell me what it is you need, sweetheart? Trouble in paradise with Dr. Octavius?" He sounds so amused and you wish dearly you could slap the smarmy attitude right out of him. 

"I have… it's not like that," you mutter, idly toying with the business card in your fingers, turning it around and tracing the solid, thick edges of it. Must cost a fortune to print these fuckers. "I just… I need to know. Why did you want Otto to think you're trashing his research? Isn't that… like… kind of petty?" You suspect nothing is below Harry Osborn at this point, but it's simply not adding up. Why would he care what Otto's doing? With his own research, no less. 

"Mm… let's just say… I have big plans, Y/N. You couldn't possibly understand." 

"Naturally. Because I'm just a stupid girl, isn't that right?" You can't help yourself, the words leave your mouth and you immediately wish you could take them back. You won't get anywhere with Harry like that, surely. But he just laughs again. You're rather tired of being on the ass end of his amusement. 

"Yes, well, it's a little more complicated than that. I actually think quite… highly of you, Y/N. But you have to see- I can't just go spilling my plans to everyone who asks, now can I?" He sounds almost… genuine. He's tugging on your strings and you stumble right into your cue. Is he baiting you into letting your guard down? You tap the card impatiently against the surface of the counter, looking out of your kitchen window. The sun might have set, but as usual the city is alive with the sparkling glow of highrises and neon lights. People shouting and car horns in the distance. The constant cacophony of life has become a comfort to you, in these last few years. 

"Yeah… well…" You aren't sure what to say. This went a lot better in your head. "I-I still want answers. You didn't give me your number just for… for no reason."

There's a moment of quiet from the other line that you aren't expecting. You have to check your phone to make sure he didn't hang up on you. Nope, still there. "Well, you see, Y/N… I have a proposition for you." 

There it is. 

---

Apparently Harry's "proposition" could only be heard in a very seedy-feeling bar on the other side of town. The people loitering outside look at you like you Don't Belong Here and after .5 seconds of deliberation, you decide you also feel like you Don't Belong Here. You aren't bothered however, as you make your way inside, taking in the scant decor and few individuals at the bar with their backs turned to you. Okay. Well. You check the time on your phone. 9 pm on the dot. Rich people must run on a different clock, you think dryly. 

Choosing to find a seat rather than linger by the door lost and awkward, you sidle into a chair at a table towards the back end of the establishment. And wait. 

And wait. 

And wait a little more. 

9:17.

Seriously?! Was this all just some silly little set up to waste your time? You staunchly make the mental decision to leave if he's not here by 9:30. Actually, that kind of sounds like a nice idea. Maybe you'll just leave now. Avoid the entire situation altogether- 

"I'm glad you came." 

There goes that little glimmer of hope. 

"You're late," you say flatly and fix him with the most dower look you can manage. Harry Osborn is not intimidated by the likes of you and simply grins in response. 

"My sincerest apologies. I am a busy man, after all." 

You huff, and just barely manage to refrain from blatantly rolling your eyes at the flimsy excuse and what barely passes as an actual apology. "Well. Here I am. Whatever you have to say and apparently couldn't just spit out over the phone, can you get it over with?" He still hasn't sat down and the way he hovers over you makes you feel small; you hate it. 

"Please. Let me buy you a drink first. Not everything has to be all business all the time, hmm?" His head is cocked slightly and there's a curious expression on his face that you simply do not trust. Everything about this man sets off alarms you didn't even know you had. What's his deal? You can't pinpoint it, you only know that something is assuredly wrong with him.

"... Sure. Whatever," you give in with a flippant wave of your hand. You tell him your favorite go-to drink and watch as his eyebrows raise. Is he surprised? Impressed? Is he going to laugh at you? To your satisfaction, he says nothing and taps the table before moseying over to the bar. You watch him like a hawk. Would he be the type to slip something in your drink? Well… you wouldn't put it past him. You don't trust him even a small amount. But you know you can't do this alone, it's the only reason you're even here.

When Harry comes back and sets your glass in front of you, he actually takes a seat across the table. He sips his own drink before placing it neatly on a napkin coaster. You think it might be whisky or scotch but it's hard to tell for sure and you don't care enough to ask. "Do you know why I asked you to meet me here?" He speaks finally and you answer him with an unamused scowl. 

"No, I don't, except that you apparently like to play games," you hope you manage to sound as exasperated as you feel, sliding your drink closer to yourself so you can take a very cautious taste. Hmm. Well, it's perfect. You'll give the bartender that. You try not to think about the last time you were in a situation like this. When Otto brought you a drink. When he asked for your help. The parallels are unsettling and you force yourself to stare down into your glass, too uneasy to meet Harry's gaze that continuously bores through you. Jesus, has anyone told this guy that he is seriously off-putting? Unnaturally so. 

"I wouldn't say that. This is a safe location- whatever happens here stays within these four walls," he gestures to refer to the building. You don't like the implications of that. "Don't worry," he adds, as if he can read your concerns in your mind (maybe he can, who knows at this point- wouldn't shock you), "it isn't a threat. I just don't trust those pesky phones, you see? Anyone… I mean anyone with two brain cells to rub together can tap one of those things." 

"Okay… go on." 

"I would like you to work for me, Y/N." 

This has to be the longest running gag and you're the butt of the joke, right? You shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing over at him. Harry looks entirely genuine, his countenance is serious and if you didn't know any better, you'd think this to be an honest to God job offer. But you do know better. A lot better. "I already worked for you. I got fired," you say blithely, forcing a quick mocking smile before it melts away again and you take a big gulp of your drink. 

"No, no, no… I don't mean Oscorp. I want you to work for me," Harry clarifies and you decide you actually like that idea less. 

"You must be joking," you can't help yourself. It just comes out before you can stop it. Luckily, he just laughs, in spite of the no doubt sour look on your face. 

"I'm quite serious. I can assure you it won't be anything as exciting as espionage or breaking and entering, but I have a few things I would… benefit greatly from having you do," Harry sounds like he's explaining himself, but it really comes off as more of a jab- and you especially don't want to know exactly what "things" he would "benefit" from you. It sounds creepy. And unpleasant. And- "Of course, I will pay you handsomely. Much more than a petty thief would be able to reward, in any case." Okay, you're listening. You'll unpack the whole morally dubious 'crimes for cash' thing you've been roped into later. For now, you are very much unemployed and very much only have enough of Otto's stolen bank money to pay another month of rent, not to mention other bills. And food. Food is ideal. 

"So what exactly… would I be doing?" You venture to ask. 

"A little of this… a little of that," Harry must notice the absolute look of incredulous disgust on your face because he doesn't just chuckle he really, truly laughs. "Oh for God's sake, sweetheart, stop looking at me like that. It isn't that kind of job. Do you really think so lowly of me?" He's hiding his grin in his glass of amber alcohol and you sputter over your next words. 

"W-well, what am I- shit, what am I supposed to think, with you being all- all weird and ominous about it!" 

"Errands. Alright? I just need someone to do some… errands. Every once in a while. Someone who can keep their mouth shut, hm? Can you do that?" 

"Uh…" You take a moment to ruminate on it. It can't be any more dangerous than the scheme you ran with Otto, right? And you really could use the money… "What if I say no?" 

Harry shrugs. "Then you're free to go," he waves his hand towards the door, leaning back in his seat. You can tell from looking at him that he doesn't expect you to leave. 

He's got you, hook, line, and sinker. And he damn well knows it. "... Okay. Fine. I'm in." Why do you suspect you're going to live to regret this decision? 

--- 

When you finally get home, it's late. Much later than you're typically used to staying out these days, and you haul yourself into the shower to wash off the bar stink and Harry's cologne that you feel clings to your clothes, your skin, your hair. You have to admit, there's something frighteningly intriguing about him. But he scares you to the core in a way that Otto never has. Would he let you back out after giving your word? You sigh as you let the water stream over your back and shoulders. Harry didn't have much else to tell you. He wants you deliver an envelope that he left in your possession. To an address that you aren't even sure of its location. Jeeze… another mess you got yourself into. It's silly. Surely he can just send private emails or packages or whatever on his own, right? You aren't sure… it doesn't add up. None of it does, and there's been a lot.

Oh well. Guess it can't be helped now. You turn off the water as it starts to run cold.

---

Clean and wrapped up in very comfy pajamas, you make a quick round of the apartment, turning off lights and checking the locks of the windows. You get to your bedroom and your hands hesitate over the latches of the final window. They're already snapped into place. But you slowly reach out and unlock them. 

Just in case.