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#i tried to edit it this morning but i don't think it can be salvaged
kniroundandelions · 9 months
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i was looking through my notes app and found the VERY FIRST fic i tried writing for tsuzuita in like late 2020/early 2021 (?? i don't remember)
this was shortly after i first got into tzit, so i didn't really have a deep understanding of their dynamic yet. back then, i was mostly reeled in by the infamous bunny line.... so it's a little ooc and depraved, but yknow.
i don't think it's worth attempting to salvage, so i'll just throw it here
[EDIT: this is unfinished btw]
Title: Cottontail
Summary: After Alex in Wonderland, Itaru can’t stop seeing bunny ears and toned legs under white shorts whenever he closes his eyes.
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“That’s somebody’s fetish,” Itaru says as soon as he spots the black cat tail and bunny ear headband in the prop box.
Yuki shoots him a disgusted glare. “Gross. We get it, Chigasaki. You’re depraved. No need to remind us every time you open your mouth.”
“Hey, I’m just saying it’s somebody’s fetish. I never said it was mine.”
Itaru would be proved wrong that very night.
Now, listen. Chigasaki Itaru is a not a furry, okay? And no, Gardevoir does not count. And catgirls definitely do not count. He swears by this.
However, when Itaru finishes assembling his costume and peaks over at a certain scriptwriter bashfully attaching a pair of snow white bunny ears atop his head, a gear starts turning in Itaru’s head. It’s that familiar gear that tells his brain, “Uh oh. That awakened something in you.”
Itaru’s seen his fair share of cat boys and girls. Dog girls, even. Hell, he’s an anime fan. Of course he’s seen bunny girls. So bunny boys should be nothing new to him. But something about Tsuzuru shifting uncomfortably in his costume during dress rehearsal out of the corner of Itaru’s eye turns that evil gear in his head. Itaru forces himself to keep his face forward and not slowly drift his eyesight towards Tsuzuru’s bare calves.
Christ Itaru, they’re just calves. What are you, a catholic? he chides himself. This is what zero pussy does to a motherfucker.
“It’s your cue,” Tsuzuru whispers, lips only a few breaths away from Itaru’s ears—human ones at that.
“Yeah, right, thank you,” Itaru manages to say without turning his head to kiss him on the lips—
Wait. What.
Impulsive thoughts are quite a bitch, Itaru concludes, as he pushes away the thought of kissing a bunny Tsuzuru. Now that would make a worthwhile CG, but shouldn’t that be in the paid DLC? Also, is he in the Tsuzuru route right now? He doesn’t remember picking this route. He thought he was on the Izumi route. Unless this is a diverging path and he made the wrong dialogue option this morning.
“That’s somebody’s fetish,” the words from earlier that morning echo in Itaru’s head. Oh he chose the wrong option alright. Well, it’s never too late to quit a route, right?
-
Wrong. Itaru was so wrong. It’s been hours since rehearsal and pointy ears and a white fluffy tail won’t leave his brain. It’s a little hard to eat the spaghetti and meatballs in front of him right now, actually.
“Itaru? Are you alright?” Omi asks, “You’ve barely touched your dinner.”
“No, I’m fine. Guess I’m just not hungry today,” Itaru spits out a lame excuse and dons his corporate smile.
Omi frowns. He’s obviously not buying it. “Didn’t you have a full dress rehearsal today? You usually eat quite a lot on those days, since you tend to run out of energy easily. You’re not sick, are you?”
“I don’t think I—“
“Maybe Itaru-san is feeling a bit under the weather,” Tsuzuru pipes up, “He seemed a little distracted today during practice.”
No thanks to you, Itaru shouts in his head. Now stop talking so I can poke at my spaghetti in peace.
“If you want, I can make you some soup,” Tsuzuru suggests. “I think we have some chicken bone and radish in the fridge.”
When Tsuzuru stands, Itaru notices how the neckline of Tsuzuru’s hoodie dips when he gets up, revealing some of his collarbone. Itaru suddenly feels like a 18th century European boy who’s just caught a glimpse of a woman’s ankle. Is this all it takes? Yuki was right. He is depraved.
“No, that’s okay,” Itaru does not want to deal with this kind of self questioning today. He picks up his plate and excuses himself from the table. “I think I’ll feel better once I get some rest. I’ll just finish this in my room. See you guys tomorrow.”
“But Itaru-sa-“
Itaru rushes out of the dining room before he can hear the rest of Tsuzuru’s sentence.
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grimmpitch · 3 years
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lizzie asked about zayn and harry’s friendship in rcf and it was two in the morning when i’m usually most dramatic so i wrote this
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Zayn is on the phone when Harry opens the door, and he gives him an apologetic wince, raising a finger to indicate that he’ll only be a minute. Harry shakes his head, ushering him in and holding the door so it wouldn’t slam when it closes before retreating to the kitchen to check on the cookies.
He pulls them out of the oven when he decides they’ve baked enough, leaving them out on the tray to cool. Zayn accepts the cup of tea Harry offers happily, taking a sip only after he blows on it. Harry wonders if he picked that up from Louis, or if Louis picked the habit up from him.
The hem of his floral dress bunches up by his knees when he spills himself quietly into the loveseat, his own cup of milk-free tea cradled carefully in his hands. From the coffee table, Harry retrieves the novel he was reading before Zayn called to tell him he was coming over and flips to the page where his sunflower bookmark sits, settling in. He takes a small sip of his tea as he begins to read.
If Louis’ stories about Zayn and Liam are anything to go by, Zayn’ll be on the phone for a little longer than a minute. Warmth soaks through Harry’s chest like honey, and Zayn’s voice is hushed and gentle and coated with so many layers of love, just plain, obvious love, that it’s almost soothing.
He perks up when he hears a mention of his name, turning around and blinking twice when his vision gets fuzzy around the edges. Zayn is smiling at him fondly, and Harry feels his cheeks heating up, strawberry red blooming from the apples of his cheekbones and to the tips of his ears. He hums at something Liam says into the phone before the gentleness in his eyes turns to something like mirth, Harry gulping, his body pushing itself instinctively further into the loveseat.
“Wait,” Zayn says, not to Harry if the distracted glint in his eyes is anything to go by, “I’ll put you on the phone with him, gimme a sec.”
The green of Harry’s eyes widens, black of his pupil shrinking with the anxiousness now building up steadily in his chest, and he shakes his head frantically. He has the nonsensical urge to call Louis.
“Hey,” Zayn says, to him this time, and his voice and eyes have lost their exhilarated edge, now gentle again. “Hey,” he says again, whispering like he’s apologising for spooking Harry, and he puts the phone on the cushion beside himself, leaning forward in what Harry thinks is meant to make him look more inviting. It must work, because his omega relaxes a fraction in his chest, and he nods faintly, blinking.
“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” he promises, and Harry should’ve maybe expected that, but he would be lying if he says he did.
“Oh,” he breathes, “um.”
Zayn continues, voice softening the tiniest bit more, “Liam is my soulmate. I’ve known him since – well, forever, really.” He smiles, and something in Harry settles at its tenderness. “We’ve been bonded for a couple of years, now. He’s like a teddy bear, I promise.”
Harry’s own parents never bonded, because bonding only works if the people loved each other an amount Harry can’t even begin to imagine – only he does think of Louis, but that makes the blush on his face darken unevenly and Zayn’s eyebrows rise, lips tugging up like he knows, so he shakes his head quickly to clear it. A bite mark would heal and fade away without love, and if a bonding was forced again and again it would hurt more than Harry likes to think about, has sat beside his mum time and time again as she lay in bed unable to move for days at a time since before he even understood why it happened.
Harry takes the phone with a trembling hand when Zayn offers it to him, shakily breathing in. He tells himself someone with so much love in their heart could never hurt him, and then he repeats it in his head once, twice more, before pushing the phone clumsily against his ear.
Harry doesn’t die. He actually talks to Liam, and he doesn’t die. He thinks he wants to tell Louis, if only to see his eyes crinkling around the edges with the soft smile that always sits on his face when he looks at Harry.
Liam leads most of the conversation, but he pauses between his sentences to ask Harry’s opinions on things he didn’t realise he even had opinions on, and it’s sort of thrilling in a way Harry doesn’t think he knows how to explain. When Liam hangs up some time later, telling Harry he’s got to run to class, Zayn’s been in the kitchen for too long and Harry puts the phone down to notice he’s stopped fisting the hem of his dress at some point during the call.
When he comes back to the lounge, Zayn is balancing one too many cookies on a plate, and there’s one shoved in his mouth too but Harry can make out the soft smile on his lips still. His eyebrows crease into a soft frown when he sees the phone on the coffee table.
He sets the plate down, swallowing the mouthful of raisin cookie before pocketing his phone with a pout. “He’ll call again when his class is over,” he reassures before Harry can begin to apologise, and Harry nods dumbly. “We couldn’t call last night, so he wanted to sneak in a little call before his classes today.”
A blanket of silence settles over them while Harry gathers his thoughts, munching on a cookie slowly. He dusts his hands on his dress before stuttering out, “Um, tell me if I’m, like, overstepping, but – how’d you and Liam meet?”
Zayn rolls his eyes but it’s fond; when he speaks, Harry relaxes in his seat at the gentleness of his tone.
“We met first day of kindergarten, actually.” Harry’s mouth drops open a little, his body leaning forward unconsciously. “Honestly, I think things would’ve been so much easier for everyone back then if we weren’t soulmates,” he says with a laugh, and Harry’s nose twitches in silent confusion.
“We wouldn’t let go of each other,” Zayn explains, shaking his head. “The teachers tried to separate us because we were distracting the other kids, but we kept finding our way to one another.” His voice is so soft Harry’s tummy flutters, his eyes stinging at the edges with the ghost of tears and a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Harry sniffles just as Zayn says, “It got easier as we grew up. We were always around each other, so the urgent need to be close all the time puttered down slowly, I think. I think it would’ve been a lot smoother if we’d met when our hormones were all sorted out and shit, but when we were kids we didn’t really care about anything but being with each other.
“Niall moved into the village first year of high school, when everyone was just presented or starting to.” He pauses to roll his eyes again, and the action makes Harry smile. It drops into a concerned pout when Zayn says, “We fought a lot that year. I think at some point Liam was just ready to kill Niall, consequences be damned.”
Fingers tangle with Harry’s trembling ones, and he looks down to see Zayn’s hand squeezing his. Harry forces himself to inhale deeply, and Zayn doesn’t comment on how shaky his exhale is when he lets it out.
“He thought he’d present as an omega, and when we both presented as alphas he was worried I’d leave him for someone else – an omega or a beta, you know – which is ridiculous, obviously, I’m so in love with him it drives me crazy sometimes, but we were kids and, at the time, we didn’t know better. That’s when Niall came in. It took absolute ages for me to convince Li I wasn’t going to leave him, not for Niall or anyone else,” he finishes with a sigh that’s more a soft laugh, like he’s remembering it all all over again.
His golden eyes set on Harry’s bright green ones, and Harry is slightly taken aback by the emotion in them. He can’t quite place it, but it makes his heart stumble against his chest anyway. “Don’t let go of Louis,” is what Zayn finally says.
“I know he’s a bit of an idiot most of the time–” Harry manages to not comment on that, but only barely “–but he cares for you more than he cares for anyone.”
It sounds a lot like he’s saying I’m trusting you with my best friend. Harry doesn’t know what he did to deserve that kind of trust, doesn’t think he even trusts himself that much, but the fluttering of his heart is real enough to make him dizzy, and he has to rub a fist over his tummy to try and calm its twists and turns.
He really wants to be wrapped up in Louis’ arms right now, enveloped in the mellow vanilla of his scent.
Harry nods, his voice a shy whisper when he promises Zayn not to let go, and when he turns to shoot Louis a text saying he misses him he misses the knowing smile tugging the corners of Zayn’s mouth upwards.
-
read the raisin cookie fic here and the rest of the omega harry fic fest fics here
@omegaharryficfest @lizzieoffline
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Too old for the climbing frame & kiddie swings? I think not, lads.
My friend & I finally met up, after she had been away for a week in Spain, and had suffered a pretty severe case of tonsillitis for the first four days; after losing her voice, ability to eat and swallow, and winding up in hospital on the last night that I saw her. The warmth of the sun helped her out, which is great, because Wales was pretty fucking icy at the time that she was sick. I felt horrible.
We finally caught up with each other, tho. Laughed about how if she tried to wear my clothes & fashion sense; she'd look horrific, and how if I wore her clothes, I'd probably still find a way to make them look all punk & alternative & not frumpy. We also took a lot of photos, which...isn't shocking, because I love taking an unnecessary amount of photos, and so does she; so it all works out.
Unfortunately, Instagram is a piece of shit; and crashes every time I try to edit or upload photos, no matter how many times I reinstall it. So I'm basically salvaging what I can, bc I don't want to lose my shit this early in the morning, over one stupid app. 🙄🙄
The top photo is honestly one of my favourite things in existence. It helps that my friend isn't weird about my lazy eye, so I can feel comfortable appreciating it more, which is nice. 😊 Especially after years of despising it, bc everyone makes an issue out of it, etc.
Irrelevant closing note: We were 100% listening to P!ATD, specifically House of Memories, throughout the entire faux photoshoot. We had it on low volume, tho, so that we weren't bothering anyone...and I also met a girl who screamed when she heard Brendon's angelic voice. It was a fun time. 😂
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