CEO Goblin

😈 — “Don’t go anywhere.” Teasing him for being so easily distracted, but delighted by the drunken look in his eyes. Madelyne liked this kind of submissive behavior; bending to her will because he wanted it, insolent for show. “I want you right here, with me,” she hypnotized, eyes never leaving him. Free hand teasing up the length of his belly — claws trailing gently up the flesh beneath his shirt. Searing, like hot pokers. Maddie kissed him… Her fangs, puncturing his adrenaline-swollen lip with a tug. “I’m going to remake you,” she whispered. “I promise.” 

💾 — “I take offense to that,” she argued, dryly. “I do it because it’s fun, I like it, and someone has to.” It was the least she could do, argue that is, as her eyes were busy soaking up the visual that was Harry, smiling. There was something about the smiles he wore. They were all so.. different— and, as this relationship progressed, seemed to evolve. He was asking for it, so she sort of anticipated his dodge. Her smacking hand drops, then she psyched him out with a full body jerk forward. “Punk.” Her eyes are back on his, unsure of what she saw behind them. “Of course.” A pause later, her features softening, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

💾 — “That’s the thing about DoomlyFans… I can’t make one for you. Not unless you hire me as your manager,” she said, deadpanned. Being absolutely serious if he dared to take her up on it. It was quickly becoming their dynamic. Pushing to new extremes. Testing each others limits. MJ makes her approach, sizing the brat up. “I’m just fucking with you, Osborn— I’ll always be your number one hater.” 

Johnny really wanted to set something on fire. Not Harry, obviously, but maybe at least his stupid fancy jacket. Hey, not while he was wearing it. Probably. The air molecules in the room heated up, the temperature rising. It was coming from him, Johnny knew, a slip of his tightly held control that corresponded exactly to the impassively cool expression on Harry’s face. Johnny wanted to break it. That was the most frustrating thing. He was sitting here, getting steadily more and more steamed off, and Harry didn’t even look like this was worth a single moment of his time. He wished that his own fury wasn’t plainly written over every corner of his face - and just as obviously, in the rising heat of the room - but. Well. Johnny knew who he was. Some days hotheaded didn’t really cover it. 

His jaw clenched. “Oh, and you know him soooo well,” Johnny said, sarcastically drawing out the words. “He’s not even your Peter. Sorry, Petey. You get that, right? Different universe? Like, I don’t need you to tell me what Pete would want. He’s my friend.” 

Johnny watched as Harry got out of his chair, pleased more than anything else to have finally gotten a reaction. “Uh, not really, actually,” he said, but Harry was still talking anyway, leaning forwards, so he contented himself with a roll of his eyes. “And there he goes anyway. Okay, don’t call me darling. I feel dirty, and not in a fun way,” he complained, meeting Harry’s stare with narrowed eyes. Johnny wasn’t going to be the one to back down first. If Harry wanted to have this out, they could have this out. Johnny could get in his face too. “Alright, Osborn, I’ll bite. What exactly is it you think I’m so jealous about?” Johnny asked skeptically, eyebrows raised. “Your superpowers? Your millions of fans? Your perfect teeth? Oh, wait,” Johnny flashed a blindingly derisive smile. He was pretty sure his eyes said, I hate you. “That’s all me.” 

🧪— Nails dug further into well abused palms. Artificial coolness beginning to evaporate under the rising heat, anger sweeping through him. Not at Johnny no. At the reminder. Harry wanted to look away, to blink the visual of seeing his Pete again out of his mind, to purge the ache in his chest and replace it with whatever the fuck was happening with Johnny ‘Human Fucking Torch’ Storm. “No he’s not my Peter… And yet you hate me so much anyways” Mind flashing to Gwen’s texts. “…But he’s not really yours either is he?”

Harry imagined that Johnnys fist would burn when it connected with his jaw, the scalding that spread out. “Oh was this not flirting? I must have missed the message.” It was the worlds worst game of chicken, his feet dug firmly in, stubborn pride and a shinning addiction to ruining his own life keeping Harry from moving a single muscle.

😈 — His reaction washed over her— as sweet as it was fiery. Shivers of her own teased up her spine. Maddie had hit a nerve, and it delighted her. “Oh.” Eyes wide & wild in discovery. He wasn’t just an opportunist, as he claimed. He was a daredevil. She took that time to hook a finger in his shirt collar, pulling him in. Keeping him close. “Is that a promise?” she whispered, words reaching only the small space left between them. Her eyes fell to his lips, and when they looked back up, that red hot glow behind them was much more apparent. A dark fog began rolling in, shrouding their surroundings. Removing distraction. “Or a request?” 

💾 — MJ reeled in the snort she made at his comment. “Not after I stream it live on DoomTube. I’ll have to compete with all your new lovers and haters.” She was being absolutely serious, too. Though she couldn’t promise viewership. It wasn’t like she had much of one herself, nor with this kind of content, but she was familiar enough with the platform to know he’d earn some hits. Whatever he was doing with the eye contact was either working, or backfiring  — the analyst moving out of her spot to expel some of the built up energy. “Don’t try running to the ringmaster, either. Isolated performances are fair game.”

The multiverse was weird and big and confusing, but as it turned out, there was a constant in it. It was this: Johnny couldn’t stand Harry Osborn. This version? Same insufferable rich guy, more or less alright looking, if in a sickly kind of way. And, like the Harry that Johnny had known, he was Peter’s real best friend. Johnny heard that, in Peter’s voice, every time he looked at Harry. Something ugly rose in his chest. “Wow. Big word. Hey, thanks for explaining it. I usually stick to one syllable ones, you know, like fuck and you,” Johnny said, pointedly stressing the words, and then smiled brightly, “I’m a bit of a ditz like that.” 

Fake as it was, the smile stretched thin and disappeared into a scowl. Of course it was fake. Everything about Johnny was, which was exactly why he would never be to Peter what Harry Osborn was. Peter’s real life, his real friends - they all had a lot more going for them than Johnny did. He didn’t fit into it, wasn’t good enough for anything more than a friendship at arm’s length. Which was why Harry got Peter Parker and Johnny … Johnny got the mask. Maybe that was better, in the end, having that distance. Everyone else who’d ever gotten close to Johnny had seen it, eventually, that he was nothing more than his powers and nothing without them, the incendiary brilliant flash whenever he went nova, sure, but that was always followed by him crashing down to earth right after, when there was nothing left but himself. Nothing left. Johnny didn’t ever want Peter to realize that. 

Yeah. Like he said. He really couldn’t stand Harry Osborn. The smug glint in his eyes made Johnny see red, zeroing in on a small stack of paperwork on the desk between them. He kicked his heels up on the desk, deliberately kicking the items off and looked back at Harry with pretend innocence. “Whoops. Sorry. Good thing you’ve forgiven me, right?” 

🧪—Harry watched as his papers tumbled to the ground, head tilting as they spread out across the floor, it was petty and childish, and the exact kind of thing that had once given Harry the reputation of “boy king” at Oscorp. On the other end of it, he could see how it didn’t really have the effect he was sure it might.

“Of course I forgive you Johnny…” Harry finally let his eyes rest on the super’s face, it was set hard, a coldness that he was sure was reserved for him alone. Even his Human Torch hadn’t hated him quite like this, it was almost addictive, Johnny’s anger at him. The jealousy that clearly clawed at him. Harry held up his hands as if showing off that he was unarmed. Calm and unaffected. Not really, but his face stayed that way as his hands fell back below his desk, his fingers curled into a tight fist nails cutting into his palm, wondering how tightly Johnny could wind himself up before something snapped. “.. I mean that’s what Petey would want.”

“huh, cute.“ valkyrie raised her brow as she came upon the scene before her. “you tell this to all the poor unfortunates that cross your path, or are you just overstimulated today?” tilting her head she shooed the threatened individual away and took their place, meeting harry’s gaze. “you want a chance to work that aggression off? i’ll fight you in the ring, trust me - you can’t do much to me - so no need to hold back. sound good?” she held up her arm, showing him the sign of the valkyrie. “i’m val, come from a long line of warriors, it’s what we do.”

🔬   — Her eyes followed his as he turned back to the tent, smiling gently at the memories of the night thus far. “Nothing wrong with that,” she admits, laughter spilling out at his cheeky reply. For his next question, well, she can’t help but raise an eyebrow, drawing out the suspense before admitting “Of course I did!”  The world wasn’t black and white, no, but this was the most fun she’d had since… well, since she ended up here, and she wasn’t about to let him forget it. Her expression softens as they walk, and she admits “The circus was amazing… cotton candy and popcorn too, but, personally, my favorite part was getting to just… hang out with a friend for awhile.” Gwen Stacy missed many things about her New York, even with Peter Parker reentering her life, but tonight helped her feel a bit more at ease, more at home than she had in weeks. “Pretty lame, right?”

🧪— Rumors had followed Harry from the moment he was old enough to have a personality to speculate on, eyes and weights and assumptions. Nothing would ever outshine the dazzling beacon of a failure to live up as his last name. Harry Osborn, son of the father with nothing to show for it, an arrogant brat with a very public history of failed rehab stints. But he hadn’t been alone, despite it all he once had people he loved, he had Gwen and her infection optimism, he had Mary Jane and her unrelenting shimmering presence. He used to have Peter and his—

The point was, there was no one left who knew Harry for what he could have been, and so, he became what he had been from the very beginning. A spoiled rich bully who didn’t like to share toys, even after he was done with them.

Steve was not the unfortunate individual meeting the growled tone of the other; it had been an honest mistake, the bumping of shoulders that had been taken the wrong way. It makes Steve think of a story that Nick Fury once told him about his grandfather and the neighborhood he grew up in. But that’s beside the point, the situation escalates, Steve sees it in the other’s body language, in his voice, not to mention that warning. It’s a little too close for comfort considering he knows the actual owner of that phrase. Steve comes over and steps in. “How about you both back down and leave it at that.” His tone leaves it as an order, not a suggestion as he nudges the other guy to keep on walking before this becomes worse.

🧪 — They think you’re a spoiled brat Harold. It wasn’t quite his fathers voice, the manic cackling inside his skull, like a gong being hit over and over and over. Of course no one knew what he meant, . The only person who could help was six feet under thank’s to on spider-man. So Harry was fighting it alone. There was a war going on, on a cellular level really. The goblin, his goblin was fighting tooth and nail to get out.

What was clearly a scolding tone was like boiling tar poured down his throat, it was every moment he had ever embarrassed his father, whiskey and something stronger on his breath. You’re making a fool of yourself. Green flared behind Harry’s eyes as his head swiveled to take in the face that had stepped in and between. Fuck. Harry wasn’t a fan boy by any means, but he did have a mostly working pair of eyes.

💾 — “No.” And she was quick to answer him, too. Before the air could change, she added, “Same as everyone else.” Why she felt obligated to explain, she didn’t know. Whether she wanted him to feel generalized because she felt bad about it, or because she didn’t want him to think she was giving him any special thought. That last one was a lie, though. Harry was his own can of crazy worms.. that she didn’t completely hate talking to. It left her with a feeling she didn’t know how to sort out. “Wait, really?” Not the part of the front row seat, but him being in the show. Then her eyes narrowed again. “Biggest fan, huh?”