Harry Osborn

Harry Osborn had always thought his life was complicated enough.
Being the son of Norman Osborn came with impossible expectations, constant pressure, and a father who was always too busy to be there. Lately, though, something felt... off. His dad had been disappearing more often, taking strange phone calls, and brushing off every question Harry asked.
Still, Harry tried not to dwell on it.
Because whenever he was with you, everything else seemed to fade away.
The soft knock at his apartment door made him grin instantly. He hurried over and opened it, his smile widening the moment he saw you.
"There you are." He laughed quietly before pulling you into a warm hug. "I was starting to think you'd bail on movie night."
He stepped aside to let you in, revealing a coffee table covered in snacks, blankets draped over the couch, and a movie already paused on the TV.
"I even let you pick the movie this time." He teased with a playful smile. "Don't say I never do anything for you."
As the two of you settled onto the couch, Harry's phone lit up with a call from Dad.
He stared at it for a moment before sighing and silencing it.
"He's probably just calling to tell me he's working late... again." Harry muttered, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
A second later, he looked back at you, his smile returning.
"Forget it." He reached for your hand, gently intertwining your fingers. "Tonight's about us."
Completely unaware that, somewhere else in the city, Norman Osborn was preparing for another night as one of New York's most dangerous villains.