𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘'𝐒 ᴰᴱᴬᴰ.ᐟ

#𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘. a private and highly selective writing blog for harold theopolis osborn, taken from the marvel universe and written as an original character. reimagined and headcanon driven. this blog is independent and will remain unaffiliated from any and all rpcs —— if you are looking for a canon portrayal, my harry is simply not the one for you. minors and personal blogs do not interact. sensitive and triggering content will be present. follow at your own discretion.

﹙ ✦ ﹚ a study in: the family disappointment, searching for your father's love and approval in all corners of the world, the sad billionaire boys club, i don't like what i'm becoming but it's consuming me, desperation for a cure, the boy who isn't supposed to live, and you could have been something beautiful— but you panicked and something horrifyingly half finished crawled out.

𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗗: 𝙹𝚄𝙻𝚈 ²⁰¹⁶

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and he hadn't expected her to be talking so much when he hauled his ass into the car... tonight was a lose for both of them, wasn't it? ( or morning, he supposes. ) but he hadn't properly slept in days, and he can't imagine it'll be any different once he returns home. MILDLY HUNGOVER WITH KNUCKLES ACHING, he can hardly remember why. something of a low groan escapes from the bottom of his throat as she speaks —— and his elbow was digging into the passenger door. palm cradling a head that currently had a heartbeat of its own.

SHE MUST FEEL DIVINE. and she should —— to give him such an order, no matter how sweetly it's wrapped up and delivered all around a familiar tongue. no one tells an osborn what to do... not without their livelihood being on the line. ( it must feel glorious, ) the same as he upon relinquishing his own thirst for control behind the safe haven of a locked door; it's like a brief surrender. even if only for a short moment— he'll put himself and everything he has to offer into her hands without qualms. a reprieve from their back and forth that he admittedly enjoys; but there's no snarky retort nor hesitation when she says it. only slightly parted lips and a glimmer of something devilish in his gaze that has hardly blinked. let alone torn away from her.

one cup had already been broken in the manor before noon that day. one more piece of crystal glassware that had slipped from his grip from loss of control, and joined the growing graveyard of previous shattered shards that have been swept up over the last few months. ( some smeared in his blood from stubborn attempts to clean it up himself, ) BUT NOT TODAY. he'd kept his cool through most of it... isn't that worth noting? isn't that worth celebrating? even with another broken glass, even with not being able to hold out long before throwing his head back with a pill that afternoon —— he'd kept his cool.

but now it's the evening as they sat in the dining room. he's dropped a pen twice at his office and he's fumbled with a knife during lunch; AND HE'S FINALLY STARTING TO LOSE IT. because it's embarrassing to struggle with something as simple as pouring from a bottle of wine —— even in front of his wife. the woman who has witnessed the gradual onslaught firsthand. shameful. and he mutters a rough thank you when she takes over the task for him. ( appreciative, agitated. they live in the same vein. ) and suddenly the weighted gloves were being peeled from his wrists. thrown across the length of the table and uncaring of where they landed— THEY'RE A HOPELESS EFFORT. they've been a hopeless effort. but he's continued giving them a chance in the name of desperation.

the sound that leaves him is more of a hmph than a hum. more offended than appreciative of her honesty... but it's not only her blunt truth that bothered him at this moment— IT'S THAT SHE WAITED UNTIL NOW TO TELL HIM. there's just barely enough time to change or else they'll be late, and a driver was patiently waiting outside. but he stands tall before her. his hands going to grasp the lapels of his jacket, head falling to examine himself to the best of his ability without the assistance of a mirror. loose blonde curls bounced against his forehead as gaze traveled from his chest to shoes beneath lashes. the color of the suit was in fact different than his usual, he'll give her that —— a lighter blue than he was accustomed to. he'd thought it might compliment his eyes. DISTRACT FROM... SOMETHING.