Wonder full (3)
Eventually Harry managed to wear Malfoy down—to convince him, that is, to move in. He didn’t bring a lot of things from the crappy flat: just the chest of drawers, a bunch of scratchy old records, and a pile of books. Mr. Picket tried to convince him to take more, any of the furniture, the photos on the walls, even the new sofa he's bought, all to Malfoy’s staunch refusal. “Don’t want to rely,” he started, then stopped, mouth twisting like he said something stupid. Grabbed the bin bag of his clothes and an empty tube of toothpaste and raced down to the rented van. Was silent the whole drive, buzzing at Harry’s shoulder without ever moving. But he relaxed by the time they got to the house, smiled when he saw Teddy’s drawings on the fridge door. Settled in unnervingly quick. And then they were housemates.
Oh, god, they were housemates.
This sudden existence taking space where Harry was usually quiet, usually by himself. It made everything feel more real, somehow. Less blurry. And moving in with Harry helped Malfoy too, Harry thought, released this tight line of his shoulders, rounded the sharpness of his frown. His laughter was still wild, still unhinged, and Harry liked that he could hear it more and more, and more, and more.
Work was still work. But Harry was constantly doodling on his notes, flowers and birds and trees, half-formed, disproportionate faces, big eyes with heavy eyelashes. Malfoy did the interviews with Ron a couple of times a week, and they all went to the pub together sometimes, with Ginny and Luna and Nev and the others. It was weirdly, weirdly, nice.
Malfoy was an interesting addition to the house. He worked awful hours, sometimes disappeared for days on end. He always left cups of half-drank tea everywhere, as if expecting to come back for them at some point. He insisted on buying and using a fabric softener that smelled, of all things, distinctly blue. He broke the coffee maker and always left the lights on in the hall, he chucked all of Harry’s cereal and got them Weetabix, was obsessed with fruit, mostly apples, sometimes oranges. He brought men to the house, gorgeous men who wanted to make him breakfast, who never somehow stayed. And he cleaned in the middle of the night, and monopolised the telly, and played his music far too loud and obnoxious, and Harry liked it so much he felt sick.
Most magnificent added bonus to the new living situation: Malfoy met Teddy. Or rather Teddy met Malfoy. Quiet, smiley Ted who never spoke much around Harry, who couldn’t shut up around him. As if something in Malfoy’s restless energy struck a chord, lit up something previously unknown inside him. Malfoy was baffled, spent a lot of time flushed, checking himself in the mirror, as if expecting to see someone else. Never did. And he made sure not to stay with Teddy on his own, only with Harry in the room, like he too required adult supervision.
Autumn came as it usually did, too tight and all of a sudden. September was uneventful, but then it turned October, and Harry felt every heckle in his body rise. It didn’t help that Malfoy was so loud, that there was no escaping him. It didn’t help that he followed Harry around the house like a duckling, always asking his questions and talking about nothing at all, about everything. It didn’t help that Harry sort of wanted him there, and dreaded it.
Things were getting quite tense by the end of the month. A week before Halloween Harry came back to the whole living room covered in fabric, and Malfoy in—
“The hell is this?” Harry managed weakly. Malfoy turned around, wearing a frown and nothing but tatters of linen, wrapped distressingly loose around his torso, gallons of body glitter on his exposed skin. It looked like someone who’s never seen a mummy before had a weird sex dream. It looked comical. Also very much not.
“I got a new gig. We sell perfume, I think. Down in the shopping centre beside the game shop, the one with the troll.”
Harry grunted in recognition. “And they want you dressed like that?”
“They have this promotion, bugger if I know. The pay’s terrific.” To Harry’s scowl, not letting up: “Do you—disapprove?”
“It’s,” Harry choked, and couldn’t make himself say a word more. Everything in his head was tight and, he suspected, entirely too petty to say out loud. He wasn’t a child, and this wasn’t—shouldn’t be a problem. Malfoy could have whatever job he wanted, prance around in the most revealing non-clothes, Harry didn't care. But—
“It’s Halloween,” he admitted through his teeth. “I don’t, don’t really like it.”
“Oh? Do elaborate.”
“Just don’t. Never did. I’d, erm, usually go to Sirius’s, or Ron and Hermione’s, and it was never… I mean.”
“I remember you were never around for the parties back at school. Possibly had this intention of shocking some reaction out of you, younger years. Wore some truly inspiring outfits. But that’s not really an answer, is it? What exactly is the issue I’m obviously missing here?”
“Who said there had to be an issue?”
“Your face did. Quit pouting.”
Harry didn’t pout, because he was an adult, who didn’t pout. “It’s just my face. Was born with it and everything.”
“To the general dismay of all, yes, we know. Now tell me what’s wrong or I’ll be late for my shift, and you will have to explain it to my acne-riddled, angsty teenaged boss.”
“Your boss is a teenager?” Harry frowned, and Malfoy rolled his eyes with a groan so loud it was almost funny.
“Of course he is. Are you trying to stall? Just tell me. I’m not a fucking wizard, I won’t know if you don’t—”
“My parents,” Harry said in this tiny voice he didn't even recognise. “It’s when they, er. It was the thirty-first, so, I don’t really celebrate or anything.”
Oh, god. Stupid, that was such a stupid thing to say. Harry regretted it, regretted saying anything at all in his life. Wouldn’t it be better if he'd been born mute, if he learned to keep his mouth shut and was just bloody quiet for one miserable time—
“I,” Malfoy said, and swallowed. Quiet, and also loud, in that weird, hectic way.
“Don’t,” pathetically, idiotically. “It’s fine.”
Malfoy's frown deepened. “I,” he said again, and stopped. Then: “Should have known that, actually.”
Harry rubbed his eyes till they sparked. “How would you? Not like I went and made a big deal of it. It’s not. A big deal, I mean.”
“Harry,” in this awful, low tone, possibly Malfoy's attempt at gentle. “I’m so—” hardening, hardening. “I can quit. I will. This is so silly and I never would have, ah, I'm being an absolute tosser about it anyway. No, quite right.”
The way he was standing, tall and firm and buzzing, roaring with it. “Just,” desperately, “stop, okay? I won’t even be here most of the week. Going to stay with Ron, Hermione’s out on this field research gig and—honestly, it’s fine. You don’t need to—I’m not a child.”
Malfoy made a rather horse-y sound. “That's not—” stopped once again. “All right. Fine. I’ll still quit, though. Teenage bosses in general I have no issues with, but Jeremiah is a bit too much for my tastes. He won’t even let me wear the nose ring. It’s basically like being in a cult.” Then snorted, a horrible, echoing sound. “Not that I’d know anything about that, would I.”
“Malfoy,” Harry tried.
“Truly, what am I even on about. News flash, Draco, this isn’t about you. You have… we can talk about it, if you’d like, about your parents. About all of it. I could listen.”
“No,” with this crackly, panicked laughter, “no, that’s fine. I’ll be away Thursday, so, really. I’ll see you again after—in November. Don’t quit, okay? Not for me. It doesn’t matter.”
Malfoy’s pretty nose scrunched. “What an utterly ridiculous thing to say.” Shook himself, a bit less stiff and a bit more himself. “That job wasn’t for me, anyway. I’ve already texted in my resignation.”
“What?” grinned, helpless. “When did you even have the time?”
“I’m a very prudent texter, Harry. You should know that about me. It’s what I always say when people ask: Draco Malfoy, twenty-six, prudent texter.”
This thing in his chest, the block of maybe-ice shifted, started to, not melt but, become more bearable. “You should add, arse.”
“Of course, it’s next on the list. Draco Malfoy, twenty-six, prudent texter, absolute arsehole. Unemployed but in a sexy way. Proficient in French, Latin, Hebrew, Russian and Greek, tragically underdeveloped interpersonal skills.”
"Git." Against the wall, against his better judgement: “And me? What should I tell people, if they ask?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one. Harry Potter, twenty-six, workaholic. Graceful evader. Not graceful anything else. Gifted artist but only in secret, horrible taste in tv series, best godfather, arms of a Greek god. A wanker of stellar proportions. Too big a heart.”
God, god, help him, save him from all this Malfoy all the time. The corners of his mouth ached. “I’m—hey, I’m sorry about being weird before. It’s just, the… maybe I’m just hungry or something.”
Malfoy perked up. “I made lentil soup. Heat some up for you? It’s not half bad.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” His stomach grumbled with it, or with something else. “Are you really not going to work? That’s a lot of wasted body glitter.”
Even his shrug was elegant. Was weird. “Perhaps not entirely a waste. There’s the whole night ahead of us, you know.” But he mostly just sat in front of Harry in the kitchen and made bad jokes about cutlery and shed glitter all over the chairs, the floor. It was possibly one of the best nights Harry’s had in a while. It was awful.
From Wonder Full's act 1, posted in full on AO3.
30 notes
·
View notes
hi hi !! loveee your blog so far, it’s v nice to see more hetalia writers popping up again. if you’re interested in tackling this request, i’d like to see your take on how a yandere romano would deal with feelings of jealousy in regards to his darling getting a little too close than what his insecure brain’s comfortable with to his brother veneziano? 🫶💕
tysm! these are still yandere hcs, but i actually ended up also doing a small character study. i’ve been wanting to do those more recently so if you’re interested send in a request! bonus points if it’s not a super popular character. + this came out a lot longer than intended, so enjoy.
This is something Lovino would not be able to handle.
He has spent centuries trying to navigate the minefield that is the relationship with his brother--with varying degrees of success. One thing that has remained constant, however, is the fact that people overwhelmingly prefer his younger brother.
Romano has seemingly tried everything. Careful imitation, acting the complete opposite, sabotaging from the shadows, acting as right-hand man, you name it. Nothing has seemed to stick.
Even now, he’s invisible. Reduced to the lesser half a whole. Forever shackled to his brother, effectively prevented from exercising his own agency.
It’s never fun to be stuck in someone's shadow, but for the person whose shadow you're stuck in to be so unflinchingly blasé about it? For one to be as stuck as long as Lovino has? Being forcefully denied your own personhood like that often breeds contempt. Hatred like that can simmer under the surface for decades, even centuries before bubbling over and being noticed by others. Holding hatred like that for so long as he has? It’s almost enough to drive someone mad.
But when he gets you and has something of his own for once he relaxes a bit. There’s no need to be on edge, to constantly put on airs, because he has someone in his corner. Someone who has taken the time to know him on a deep, personal level. Someone, who despite his faults, is willing to love him, and in turn trusts him enough to love them back. That alone is enough to satiate him, to quiet his restless mind, and dull the sharp blade of self-hatred that’s been lingering within him for so long.
So when he discovers you calmly conversing with the man who has unknowingly tormented him for so long, he almost does not know what to do with himself.
It’s almost as if he’s on autopilot, mindlessly drifting over to where the two of you stand, immediately trying to assess the situation.
In your eyes, the conversation with Veneziano was just much overdue. It was impolite to not introduce yourself to someone so close to your partner. Lovino would never say so, but sometimes the refusal to introduce you to his loved ones felt intentional. Whenever you would press the issue, he would hastily arrange a meeting to calm you down. It worked a few times; you got to meet a few of his friends, and even his pseudo-guardian/older brother/ mentor (you never were quite sure of the nature of their relationship), but you never got the chance to meet Veneziano. Occasions where you two were set to meet would mysteriously get canceled due to unforeseen circumstances. You also noticed that he would always get strangely cagey at the mention of his younger brother.
At first, he would try to covertly sow discord between the two of you, in hopes that you would have a falling-out. In his mind, if he could manufacture situations to make you see his brother’s shortcomings, you wouldn’t want to be around him.
When he discovers, to his horror, that you have grown closer to his brother despite the careful machinations, he would spiral.
To you and Veneziano, your friendship is as right as rain, completely unforced, and a natural progression. After knowing each other peripherally for so long, making friends with you just makes sense.
But to Romano, this is yet another event point, in a seemingly infinite pattern of behavior. Time and time again, Romano finds something of his own, takes a liking to it, starts to cherish it, but only until Veneziano comes along and tries to take it. He always manages, because he is always successful in everything that he does. Afterwards, Romano is then left with nothing but more hatred to swallow and another large bruise on his ego. He can’t let it happen again, not this time, not after cultivating a relationship so pure, not like this, not-
He devises to stop it. Whatever it is between the two of you. Immediately.
Lovino, who has always been romantic, will up the ante. You suddenly find yourself whisked away on trips abroad more often than you are sat at home. How could you find the time to catch up with his brother when you have a date that night, another trip to pack for? To you, it seems as though you have entered a second honeymoon phase in your relationship. Unbeknownst to you, he’s tirelessly working to separate you. He shall get Veneziano away before he tries to take what is rightfully his for the umpteenth time.
Before your increased contact with Veneziano, your relationship was, by all accounts, normal.
You met Lovino by happenstance, and your romance blossomed at a pace that felt comfortable and right. He was nothing but loving and attentive, if a bit temperamental at times. But after you meet his brother, you notice a palpable shift in his attitude. He snaps at people more and always seems to be in deep thought. But he’s kinder in some ways as well. He’s now always concerned about your safety and likes to know where you’re going beforehand, not after the fact like you used to do. He figured out that you love the gifts he gets you, so you now receive way more of them. He’s more appreciative of everything you do as well. So much so that one day, after a particularly elaborate meal, he suggests you quit your job to take care of the home. To his delight, you eventually agree, but any joy is quickly stamped out when he hears you happily explaining your new living arrangement to his brother.
He can’t stand it really, as his mind sails through countless scenarios, unearthing trauma he thought had been resolved (or safely buried) since the early Renaissance. He doesn't know why his mind takes him in this direction, but then again he doesn't know a lot of things. He doesn't know why efforts to separate the two of you don't work, or why nothing he does ever seems to work. Why is it that he is never enough? Why, after so many attempts and failures, did Grandfather never really seem to grow fond of him?
After yet another night of being forced to confront these long-dormant worries, he decides enough is enough. If you cannot take the hints he has so kindly given you, then he will separate the two of you by force.
Long gone are your days of exploring the city alone. No more impromptu cafe trips, walks around the park, or unsupervised trips to the post office. You are expected to stay at home, and at home you stay.
“Amore mio, it’s too dangerous out there,” he says. “There’s nothing nearby worth seeing, and you know how I feel about you driving.”
And you believe him because why wouldn’t you? He cares for you more than anyone! More than your coworkers, your friends who stopped visiting, or even your family who mysteriously don’t care enough to call anymore…
And just like that, you have been delegated to remain in the domicile. Showering him and only him with your seemingly infinite divine grace for as long as time permits it.
It’s so simple that he regrets not doing it sooner.
As for his ingrate brother, he will do anything to ensure he does not go sniffing anywhere he need not be.
It takes nothing to ruin Veneziano’s reputation. To oust him as an incompetent womanizer. Someone whose words of concern should never be taken seriously.
To Lovino, it is well worth it. He’ll put an end to the madness, he must. Even if it means making you unhappy, or betraying his own blood, or dirtying his hands with sin, or being at the receiving end of your icy gaze for the rest of eternity.
But you aren’t unhappy, are you now? You’re over the moon, and why wouldn’t you be? You are given everything you need and more. Besides, Lovino doesn't like it when you frown.
“Look happy now. You have no reason not to,” he always says.
25 notes
·
View notes
Me: EEE Tumblr say “what”?!
Me in the far far distance: What!?
I love this AU. I love this AU so much. I have so many ideas and stuff that I need to write down on paper eventually. But for now, incohesive doodles be upon yee 🫳
I love drawing expressions and action scenes. These were for practice, but they still look good lol. Also, Poison and Gumball Machine designs woah. They’re another duo like Chalky and Broomer, but they’re much more competent in heisting and negotiating with Latte in order to get bigger hauls of cash.
Also, Poison does have a gas mask she wears when not heisting cuz toxic fumes, but when they heist, she lets loose. And GM is able to shoot gumball strings, so that’s cool.
Mmm. Gorillaz. Not quite sure where this is going, probably pre-story, but that’s where Latte gets his powers from. Glubworld blessing of smth I’ll figure it out later. Although, the gem thing is implanted in his phone.
CW: VIOLENCE AND DEATH BELOW CUT:
“Glubworld gives its most dangerous battles to its gayest warriors.” ~Latte probably
More Glubworld’s blessings stuff after Latte sorta dies. Oh yeah, Latte dies lol. Twice. (That’s how you know he’s my favorite)
Something something, after dying, Latte is gifted a much more powerful gem than his original one in his phone. After seeing the city ransacked and seeing more and more people show up in Glubworld, he asks to go back and finish the job. There, he wakes up from his coma, teams with all of CB’s salty lankies, and puts an end to CB’s power trip. The power comes from a contact lens, so one swoop and he’s done.
However, the amount of power and damage done to Latte was at a lethal state. One he wasn’t able to recover from.
Yeah, this AU’s gonna have mega angst. Are these set in stone? Not sure yet. But I love writing angst so this is a win for me.
The first pic here is right after the big final Latte-CB fight above. The second shitpost image is before that (like mid-storyish) where Latte gets his ass kicked a little too hard and semi dies lol, being sent to Glubworld. Diary and Moonstone are there cuz Moonstone works for CB (blackmail) and Diary is a journalist who is super unprofessional. Also slight smartspice cuz 🤭
Please please please feel free to ask or tack on any ideas to this I really want to talk about this thing with others. Have a great day broskis :)
24 notes
·
View notes