Your Curated Tumblr Experience Awaits!
Idolish7 - Blog Posts
Idolish7 is such a wild anime it's an idol anime but there are terrorists and it's one of the hardest hitting animes with tamaki and his sister but then everyone's singing and dancing it's a fucking fever dream that shit gets me Everytime and don't even get me fucking started on zool love them gay bitches
found an iori-centric i7 wip in my files today that i'd like to finish up. id love to post what i have now but there's no good place to chop it into two parts so here's a snippet instead! the fic is called let it sink in
iori/riku pre-slash, self-discovery, angst & hurt/comfort
Iori ran his finger along the thin skin beside his nail bed, tempted to pick at it but far too restrained to give into the impulse. “Meeting Yuki-san helped you figure out who you were?” Was that just the alcohol talking? Iori had been under the impression that those sorts of answers could only come from some secret place inside. One that Iori was still struggling to gain access to. “Mhmm!” Momo-san agreed brightly. “He was just so…” he sighed wistfully, rocking up onto his toes for a moment before settling back onto his heels and staring up at the moon. “And then I kept coming back. And back. And back. To see him and Ban-san. Like he was drawing me in.” Iori gently bit the inside of his cheek. “That sounds…familiar,” he admitted. Momo-san grinned brightly, excitedly leaning closer to Iori. “I thought so!” Iori could smell the alcohol on his breath and took a subtle step back. “It’s the same for you and Riku, right?” Momo-san’s expectant gaze shimmered despite the wan lighting, oddly intense, and Iori turned his gaze to the moon to avoid meeting it. Iori wasn’t drunk but Momo-san was, so… “I think so,” Iori murmured softly. “It’s…I feel,” he tried, unsure how to end the sentence. Iori looked down towards his tightly clasped hands. “It’s weird,” he settled on. A complete non-answer if Iori’s ever heard one, but that was all Iori seemed to have lately and Momo-san supposedly had the key to his own lockbox so maybe Iori could learn something if the man simply talked long enough.
Since Re:vale was very poor during the start of their career, can you do an ff where Momo and Yuki can't afford heating so they cuddle to sleep (or even if the heat is on, it's still very cold.) I attempted it myself and let's just say it turned out very sad (and they did not cuddle. I can't seem to write happy things.) The themes are fluff with sad feelings.
It's only a request so please do it if you feel comfortable.
ofc! thanks so much for the request :) fic under the cut
author's note: this ended up being a lot longer than i planned but i really enjoyed the challenge of balancing fluff and angst. apologies if it's not quite sad enough. there's some handwavy canon stuff about yuki's past that i invented to suit the story but otherwise i tried to keep it universe-accurate and toyed with how the married couple routine they use might create some mental/emotional distance between re:vale despite their physical closeness (overall its still pretty mushy though lol). i sincerely hope you enjoy it @iamokay13 !
Yuki stirred when he heard the front door click open, awkwardly dragging the heavy blankets he’d cocooned himself in away from his face. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
“Who’s there?”
Momo responded with a breathy laugh, struggling audibly with the door.
“Who do you think?”
Groggily, Yuki heaved himself onto his elbows to peek over the back of the couch, chin pillowed on the scratchy cushion. He spied at least three plastic bags hanging from Momo’s arms, their contents swinging wildly as he attempted to pull the door shut with his foot, hands busy balancing a tower of mismatched tupperware that promised them warm dinners throughout the week. The only thing indicating it was Momo at all was the hint of blue hair poking out over the top.
“Hello sentient tupperware,” Yuki murmured, slumping back down onto the couch.
The door clicked shut.
“Yes!”
Yuki blinked despondently up at the popcorn ceiling.
“The heater’s still broken. Landlord won’t fix it until next week.”
“No!” Momo cried, followed by the sound of what must be twenty plastic containers tumbling out of his arms and onto their kitchen counter. “Can’t you, I don’t know, seduce him or something to get it fixed faster?”
Yuki raised a pale eyebrow, aware that Momo wouldn’t be able to see it from this angle and confident that he’d sense it all the same.
“The only person that would work on is you.”
“But you’re so handsome!”
Yuki pulled the blankets back over his face. Muffled, he asked, “Any luck with your savings? He might call maintenance sooner if we can pay half.”
Momo laughed awkwardly, their fridge humming open and shut.
“If by savings you mean my old piggy bank, then we’re 2700 yen richer.”
Yuki sighed.
“I think my mom’s decided that we’re starving artists-”
“We are starving artists,” Yuki interrupted bluntly.
“-so she sent me home with like, the whole kitchen. You weren’t even there and she was all Yuki darling is too skinny these days, practically skin and very handsome bones, he really ought to be eating more, and then I was all-”
“She calls me darling, too?”
“No, I’m exaggerating for effect, darling. Now shh.”
With a soft gasp, Yuki suddenly bolted up from the couch. “Did you hear that?”
Momo froze with wide eyes, one hand on the handle of their most-intact cabinet. “Hear wha-”
“Shh!” Yuki insisted, draping himself partly over the back of the couch to ensure Momo remained still and quiet while his eyes darted suspiciously over the apartment.
“Do you think it’s a ghost?” Momo whispered fearfully.
“Maybe,” Yuki whispered back, holding a finger over his lips. “Listen.”
Without the hum of the heating unit permeating the small space, the apartment was chillingly silent. In fact, if Yuki focused, he could almost make out the fearful thud of Momo’s heart as he stood frozen, poised in anticipation and ready to-
“Ah,” Yuki sighed, smiling slightly and dragging his blankets further up his shoulders. “The sound of peace and quiet.”
Momo practically sagged in relief, even as he grabbed their kitchen towel and hurled it towards Yuki where they both watched it flutter harmlessly to the ground.
“You handsome jerk!”
Momo’s sister’s initials were still sewn into the corner, right next to the burn mark Yuki had caused attempting to soften butter in their microwave. The mark she didn’t know about, and wouldn’t ever I’d Yuki had anything to say about it.
Slowly, Yuki asked, “Is this what the tabloids would call a lover’s quarrel?”
“Hmph!” Momo complained, turning his head away with a performative frown.
Blankets dragging behind himself, Yuki moved to sit across from Momo at the kitchen island, falling easily into the back and forth they were developing for their stage personas.
“The next time Mr. Shimooka-san invites us for an interview, I’m gonna tell the whole world you keep trying to give me heart attacks,” Momo declared, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.
Yuki braced his elbow on the countertop, prepared to pillow his chin on his palm with a suggestive smile and a heart-pounding innuendo, when he jerked away from the cold sensation instead, flailing his blanket cape to keep from falling off the stool entirely.
“No you won’t,” Yuki said instead once he’d regained his balance, pulling a corner of the fabric over his heat-stained cheeks.
Momo continued to move around the kitchen, pulling things down from various cabinets and drawers and fiddling with the microwave with his back turned, humming a popular song about karma.
Yuki could hear the smile in his voice.
“No I won’t,” Momo agreed softly, spinning on his heel a few moments later and placing a warm plate of curry in front of Yuki. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Ye-”
“Ah, ah, ah!” Momo interrupted, waving his finger in front of Yuki’s face. “Don’t forget I know what your lying face looks like, darling! Your eyes get all sneaky.”
Yuki frowned, readjusting the blanket around himself while he poked at his food, only belatedly realizing that he had been hungry.
“I thought my eyes were handsome?”
Where Yuki expected a wide smile to bloom over Momo’s face and gushing compliments to follow, he found only guilt when he glanced upward.
Yuki tensed. “Why are you-”
“Yuki I forgot to tell you I wiretapped the apartment for a TV show,” Momo admitted in a rush.
“You what?” Yuki exclaimed, jumping off of the stool, face burning as he looked frantically around the room. “When did you-?”
Momo laughed, rounding the counter to place an obnoxious kiss to Yuki’s still-burning cheek. “Got you back, Yu-ki.”
“You..” Yuki made an incoherent sound of relief, coated with surprise and displeasure both as he melted to the ground, thumb subtly brushing warmth over the skin Momo’s lips had pressed against. It was just an act, Yuki reminded himself. In spite of the closed doors, it was still just an act.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Yuki whispered, burying his face in his hands.
“Cheer up, darling!” Momo cooed, flopping onto the couch and gathering Yuki’s other, abandoned blankets around himself. “Finish your meal so we can be warm together.”
“I think I’ll die.”
“But how could I go on living without your handsome eyes to look at?” Momo complained.
Yuki sighed, deciding to remain crouched on the ground for a few moments longer while he looked around the sorry state of their apartment- shared, for the sake of rent, and still their fridge was only full of borrowed tupperware and little else. A few of their cabinets wouldn’t shut properly, the hot water never lasted for more than ten minutes at a time, and the only reason they had furniture in the first place, threadbare as it was, is because the previous renter had left it all behind.
And now the heater was broken in the middle of winter.
“At this rate, neither of us is gonna last too long.”
Momo’s voice was quieter when he asked how their ticket pre-sale was going.
“We’ve filled maybe a tenth of the seats,” Yuki replied, rising slowly to return to his plate of curry, determined to fill his gut with warmth instead of dread.
“But we go on this Saturday,” Momo pointed out, his head popping up over the back of the couch with concern. “And that’s…how much would that pay us?”
Yuki shrugged, moving around his food with the spoon as he ran sums in his head. “About enough to pay for the venue, I think. Maybe pocket change for us.”
Momo collapsed back onto the couch with a soft, wheezing thud, and Yuki thought he probably had his hands cupped over his face. Momo always did that when he was stressed.
“Was it…was it this hard when you and Ban-san started out?” Momo asked in a small voice and Yuki took a moment to consider the question.
“Yes and no,” he finally answered, poking at his plate. “For some of that first year, I was still connected to my parents bank account and I lived at home so there was no food or rent to pay for. However, drawing a crowd is always difficult in the beginning.” Yuki shrugged, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. “The music speaks for itself, but it takes time for people to listen. There’s a lot of noise in the world.”
“Right,” Momo murmured quietly. “Right,” he repeated, seemingly more to himself than to Yuki. “It’s just time.”
Yuki frowned. “Why do you sound so-?”
“Maybe I should get a job!” Momo interrupted, the sudden cheer in his voice throwing Yuki off kilter.
“What?” Yuki asked. “But you have a job. It’s…us. We’re the job.”
“No, Yuki darling. A part-time one. I’ve…I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately but the place I was working at during college isn’t hiring at the moment so I circled a few of the listings in the paper to check out.”
“You what?”
Yuki set his spoon down in favor of spinning yesterday’s newspaper towards himself and flipping towards the section for job listings, finding Momo’s signature scrawl all over the place- dotted with frowny face notes for places that had already managed to fill the positions they were advertising for. Question marks and clumsy stars were littered near the others.
“You’ve already started calling,” Yuki realized.
“Mm,” Momo said. “It makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”
Yuki swatted the newspaper to the counter, shifting on the barstool to glare accusingly at the couch blocking Momo from view.
“I could've talked to-”
“I know,” Momo interrupted, voice soothing and sure of himself. “But you’re the one who writes all the music, Yuki. I don’t know a lot about it like Ban-san, so the best I can do is make you tea while you work and…” Momo cut himself off with a light chuckle, something self-deprecating in the sticky sweetness of it. “Well, it just makes more sense for me to be the one to work, y’know?”
“I-”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Momo scolded again, but without the polished finger waved in Yuki’s face and the usual pleased amusement behind the sound, it grated against Yuki’s ears. “Don’t lie, darling. You’re too handsome for that.”
Yuki huffed unhappily and reached for the sharpie Momo had left out on the counter, quickly scanning through the circled listings and crossing out all of the ones that would have Momo working late hours or doing a lot of manual labor. If Momo was going to twist Yuki’s arm about this, there was no way he’d allow Momo to work a job he’d hate.
When Yuki finished, he found the listings Momo had been okay with slashed in nearly an even half.
“Stupid,” Yuki muttered beneath his breath.
“Cold,” Momo corrected from the couch.
Sighing like he’d been asked to take a thirty minute drive for Momo’s favorite gingerbread muffins, Yuki rose from his seat with his blanket billowing behind him and wandered toward Momo, whose lips were ticking up at the corners.
Yuki frowned in retaliation, well aware that he probably looked ridiculous, before collapsing face-first into his outstretched, waiting arms.
Momo sighed in contentment as he rearranged the blankets around the both of them to seal in what little body heat they produced, squeezing Yuki close to his chest once he was satisfied.
Yuki allowed it, content to pretend that he hadn’t intended for them to end up like this in the first place by strategically waiting for Momo on the couch.
“So cozy,” Momo cooed, running his hand up and down Yuki’s back- smoothing and rucking up the fabric in slow, even strokes. “We even have a fireplace.”
Yuki raised his head skeptically.
“Is the cold getting to your head? Because-”
Grinning wide, Momo’s eyes flicked to the wobbly coffee table beside them.
Yuki followed his gaze and let out an amused scoff, eyes rolling, because Momo’s phone was propped against Yuki’s stack of songwriting folders, showing a bright, burning fireplace.
“You’re stupid,” Yuki murmured lightly, tucking his face against Momo’s neck where his growing smile wouldn’t be found, pressing the cold tip of his nose to his partner’s racing pulsepoint.
“I’m your stupid,” Momo whispered back, tightening the clasp of his arms around Yuki’s back.
Momo’s body was soft and warm underneath him, the lingering unease in Yuki’s stomach lulled into peacefulness where it was pressed against his partner’s like the first, cautious snow against the ground.
Yuki closed his eyes.
He could be happy like this, Yuki thought. Even with the heater broken. Even with the apartment slowly falling to ribbons around them while they sang to empty venues. Even with the act reminding Yuki what they were not to each other, as long as Momo was here.
With him.
“Sleep, darling.”
As long as Momo would-
“I’m not going anywhere,” Momo promised quietly, twining a tentative hand into Yuki’s hair like he could scoop the errant thought from his head and, despite himself, Yuki felt himself relax.
updated intro post 🌱
hi! nice to meet you! my name's bi_focal, im 21, and this blog is a mix of writing and fandom content. asks/comments/DMs are always welcome!
fandom-wise, i mainly post about MHA (main ships including bkdk, togachako, seroroki, and more, though I enjoy platonic readings of shipped pairs as well)
for the writeblr, im always looking to connect with fellow writers so feel free to tag me in games or send asks/DMs to talk about writing things! theres no specific genre i really stick to but i enjoy coming-of-age stories and queer characters quite a bit
fic updates are pretty regular on here but as i spend more time on my original stuff ill prob be able to post more about those WIPs as well. for now ill include a brief overview of them at the bottom of this post (to be updated as i work on them)
for more info abt me/my blog pls check out my caard !
-for easy tag searching-
fulfilled writing requests (and posts about prompt requests being open) can be found under #request, fake tweets under both #fake tweets and #incorrect quotes, and anything writing related under #writeblr :)
-my most recent ao3 fics (w/ links)-
scraped knees and sunday dinners (bakugou & izuku, pre-slash, humor)
probably not (bakugou& izuku, friendship rebuilding)
still-beating, second-chance heart (demiromantic bkdk, post war)
-bi_focal's original WIPs-
Sealed (planning/ first draft stage) | Horror/thriller, mystery, sapphic
A sapphic, coming-of-age story set in a small town where ghosts are reviled, ghost-catcher's are revered, and violent attacks are starting to pile up. An unlucky medium named Nishtha forms an unlikely bond with Veronica, a Catching prodigy, when their secrets are exposed to each other entirely by accident, meanwhile the bond between childhood sweethearts Cherry and Carter is put to the test when Cherry is offered a Catching apprenticeship by her mysterious uncle and the medium cousin who almost killed Carter as a child is released form jail with a story to tell that Carter doesn't want to hear. (Multiple POV)
All It's Worth (planning/ first draft stage) | Sci-fi/fantasy, adventure, queer romance
Set on a dying planet fraught with drought, Meric thinks his life will finally change for the better when the Prophets announce that there are two from his farming town with a Calling. Instead, he accidentally thwarts an assassination attempt on the young heir of House Myre and is forced to watch on as his neighbors pay the price. Ten years later, Meric has finally faked his way into the Priesthood when a chance encounter with the boy he saved so long ago thrusts them both into the heart of a conspiracy far older and far more dangerous than they realize
Forest Fire (planning/ first draft stage) | Mystery, magical realism, new adult fiction
Lincoln was fourteen when he went crazy and got lost in the woods, fourteen when he was rescued from something he still refuses to talk about, and fourteen when he left his town behind without a second glance. It’s at 22, though, when Lincoln falls apart. Forced to bring Peggy, a young girl who can’t get in contact with her father, and Sylas, the little brother he never expected to see again, back to the town where everything went wrong, Lincoln will have to decide if it’s also the place where he can finally set things right or if the ghosts of the past will drag him down with them
Writing requests are now open!! I’d like to take on some challenges so until the end of October, hmu with any prompt you’d like to see fulfilled (all sfw pls) and as long as I’m comfortable writing it, I’ll post my responses throughout November !
Fandom-wise, MHA and i7 are what I’m most familiar with atm but feel free to send original requests or ask if I’m involved with a fandom you’d like to see a piece written for :)
I’m excited to see your prompts!!
Sogo held his breath, eyes shut tight as the scissors approached his head.
There was a quiet snip. Then another. Gentle fingers. Falling hair.
Not a single ounce of pain
-from cut away the rot (on ao3)
i7 tweets #2
Magical Anime Girl- i7 ficlet
genderqueer questioning nagi, pre-slash nagimitsu, based on that one scene where mitsuki tries to throw out all of nagi's merch (943 words)
still looking for an i7 beta reader, esp if you have a good grasp on the character personalities! and ofc id be more than happy to beta some of your stuff in return (for any fandom or original) so message me if interested!
Nagi had thought he’d confessed something, sitting on his knees while Mitsuki stared down with a blinding vengeance from Nagi’s bed, the both of them surrounded by boxes half-filled with his prized Magical Cocona keepsakes.
Mitsuki had taken Nagi’s trademark magical stick from its place on the wall and brandished it with all the grace of a valiant knight from the stories Nagi’s father used to tell him as a child. Pointing the barrel of the wand at Nagi’s face like a steel-tipped sword, Mitsuki had said, “I know you’re more than just a womanizing anime nerd.”
The words I know filled Nagi’s ears like static.
“More than when you’re with girls or watching anime, when you’re dancing with us you smile the brightest.”
I know, I know, I know.
“I know because I’ve been watching you,” Mitsuki had said, and Nagi thought that maybe he knew, too.
Maybe he and Mitsuki were the same.
Mitsuki set aside his sword- the magical stick returned gently to Nagi’s sheets instead of the box of to-be-thrown-out things- and he kneeled, too, bringing their faces close together. All the animosity from earlier felt washed away like the evening tide and Nagi’s water-worn eyes had shone, reflecting back the sudden gentleness he was faced with.
No one who’d known had ever been gentle about it.
Mitsuki smiled.
“Man, you sure are handsome up close.”
The breath of those words on Mitsuki’s lips tipped Nagi further onto his knees like a young tree caught in the throes of a hurricane.
I know.
So Nagi steeled his trembling, windswept body and confessed. He’d confessed that he felt beautiful like the magical girl Cocona. Like elegance in velvet dresses and silk ruffles and perfectly pink princesses locked away in high towers, waiting to be rescued.
(I must confess…I am beautiful.)
Mitsuki frowned, rising suddenly to make a dumpster shot of one of the Magical Cocona figurines displayed by Nagi’s bedside.
“I was ready to listen but all you wanted to do was brag?” Mitsuki exclaimed incredulously, the words that had escaped Nagi’s lips too cowardly to confess anything at all.
“I’m a beautiful man,” Nagi tried again. Beautiful, not handsome, but the hard lines in Mitsuki’s forehead clearly said Nagi’s message wasn’t getting through. Mitsuki didn’t really know so Nagi switched tactics, trying his luck with the other truth Mitsuki might have been referring to. “I’ve had girlfriends, but never boyfriends.”
Nagi had never had this. Japanese boys crowding into his space 24/7 and admiring his face, admiring him aloud, kneeling on his bed like a specter of divine judgment and leaning closer than they’d ever really need to be.
“You’re my first,” Nagi said, hoping that this was known, at least. These secret feelings, barely beginning to bloom, expressed only in the suggestive asides Nagi’s meager vocabulary could manage.
Nagi realized too late he’d slipped into the plural you but Mitsuki didn’t hesitate in the slightest before correcting the words Nagi had placed so purposefully at his feet, so perhaps this wasn’t the truth Mitsuki knew, either.
(You mean, your first friends?)
And the members of idolish7 were Nagi’s first friends, like Mitsuki assumed, so Nagi hung his head and agreed, grateful that his cowardice and incompetence had at least allowed him to retain his dignity a little while longer.
Nagi had weathered the crashing wave of anger like he always did, misplaced as it was this time, and Mitsuki had gentled once more.
Then Mitsuki called him cute and helped Nagi right the storm of his room and he smiled when Nagi began explaining the pure perfection that was the MagiCona series and Nagi felt…warm, in a way he didn’t usually allow himself to.
He softened his body language until he felt more himself, mimicking the easy femininity of the magical anime girls he so admired, and Mitsuki never blinked. So maybe Nagi could allow himself this wordless honesty. Here, in his room spun with silk and safety that Mitsuki had stayed to help him rebuild even if he didn’t know.
And at night, after MagiCona had aired and everyone else was asleep, Nagi could allow himself- herself? Perhaps themself- to imagine that Mitsuki had known something else and stayed to help Nagi rebuild all the same.
*
Manager knew, Nagi thought. Or she at least suspected.
Somehow girls always did, and that was part of why Nagi liked them so much. Tsumugi Takanashi was a beautiful woman, and Nagi told her so often, but he didn’t desire that sort of connection from her.
“There’s a Magical Cocona themed planner being released today, isn’t there?” Manager asked as they strolled past the Zero arena. “Should we stop at a bookstore after we visit the salon?”
This connection, though- this easy friendship unafraid to wade away from masculinity was something Nagi wouldn’t trade for the world.
“Oh, yes!” he cheered. “Magical Cocona! Yay!”
And maybe when Nagi found the words for a real confession, Manager would be the first to hear them, her gentle understanding a lighthouse in the swirling storm Nagi would finally admit existed within his head.
“Are you okay, Nagi-san? You have an odd expression on your face…”
Nagi extended his hand, fingers curling upward, while the other rested gently on his own chest. Manager carefully placed her hand in Nagi’s and laughed as she was twirled, skirt billowing out in a beautiful circle.
“I’m fantastic!”
Nagi lightly squeezed Manager’s hand before letting go.
“As long as you’re sure,” she said.
“I am,” Nagi replied, smiling. “We’re going to get Magical Cocona today!”
And the baby steps were important. The magical girl Cocona assured him of this.
based only on the music, which idol group from i7 is your favorite? i’m curious 👀
currently looking for someone to beta-read some of my i7 stuff, so lmk if you’re interested!
I have a few short fics posted here under the #i7 tag and the #writeblr tag for reference
Fool Me Once, 793 words, Riku x Iori, i7 shenanigans
“I swear to god,” Iori groaned, rubbing his temples as Riku followed him into the dorm’s common space, “every time you describe your brother as kind, an angel loses its wings.”
“What?” Riku exclaimed, his kicked-puppy expression glued to Iori and not the five other i7 members shooting him varying looks of concern and dismay. “But Tenn-nii is kind!”
A sudden, metallic crash drew their attention to the kitchen, where Nagi-san was flailing dramatically to the floor.
“My wings!” he cried, clutching his chest as he fell. “Riku, how could you do this to me?”
Iori and Sogo-san sighed in unison.
“Nagi-kun, we need that pan for dinner,” Sogo-san gently chastised.
Still lying on the ground with his eyes closed, Nagi-san picked up the pan and offered it in Sogo-san’s general direction.
Seriously, Iori thought to himself, how is this guy my senior?
“I-it’s not that bad! Really!” Riku defended. “He’s nice!”
Yotsuba-san groaned and fell to the floor.
Riku flushed a deep red.
“In his own way he is!”
“Oh no,” Yamato-san replied in monotone, slowly lowering himself to a horizontal position on the couch while he continued to flip through his magazine. “My wings.”
“Guys,” Riku complained.
“As a big brother myself,” Mitsuki began, ignoring Iori’s eyeroll, “I’m seriously concerned about your standard of niceness.”
“Didn’t you try to sell me, once?” Iori interjected bluntly.
Mitsuki waved away the protest. “I was like, three then. But now when my dear baby brother is upset, I- a superior big brother- make him pancakes in the shape of cute bunnies.”
“How come you only make the rest of us regular pancakes?” Yotsuba-san complained from his wingless position on the carpet.
“Now what does "Tenn-nii" do?” Mitsuki continued pointedly, heedless of the interruption.
“I know this one,” Sogo-san announced proudly before clearing his throat and drawing his features into something poorly resembling Kujo-san’s cold stare. “Nanase, who?”
“But-“
“And what does dear Iori-kun say?” Mitsuki prompted next, grinning widely.
“What?” Iori replied, narrowing his eyes in the face of so many sudden, teasing grins in the room. This felt like a trap. “We’re talking about-“
“Nanase-san,” Yamato-san said in a poor affectation of Iori’s voice, “I’ll make you a superstar!”
Mitsuki pretended to swoon into Yamato’s arms, effectively crushing the man and his magazine into the couch.
Iori frowned, ears burning. “That was-“
“Nanase-san, let me control you,” Nagi said next, reaching his hand out in front of himself like he was on the cover of a shoujo manga.
“You heard that?” Iori exclaimed.
Yotsuba-san laughed. “You said what, Iorin?”
Sogo-san began fanning his face. "Oh my."
“Nanase-san,” Mitsuki picked up next, rising off of Yamato-san to mimic Nagi-san's overtly romantic gesture. “You’re so cute. Ahem, I mean. You’re so stupid.”
Yotsuba-san gasped and pointed. “Iorin’s a tsundere!”
“I am not!” Iori howled. “And I don’t have to stand here and take this. Nanase-san-"
Riku turned toward Iori with wide eyes, his face only a few shades lighter than his hair, and Iori suddenly had no idea why his instinct had been to turn to him in the first place.
“Cat got your tongue?” Yamato-san teased.
“I’m leaving!” Iori declared, retrieving his keys from the shared bowl near the front door. The rainbow keychain he’d given Riku stared back at him mockingly.
“We’re making bunny pancakes for dinner!” Mitsuki reminded him.
“I’ll be back!” Iori huffed angrily, slamming the door behind himself.
Within the dorm, Riku stood frozen.
Tamaki wandered over to lightly fan his burning face.
“S-so…”
“Yay!” Nagi cheered, popping up from the kitchen floor. “Moment of realization!”
“So Iori-kun’s…a better brother to me?” Riku asked haltingly.
Nagi wailed and collapsed back onto the ground, various noises of exasperation and disappointment from the other members following suit.
Riku had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at them. Discreetly, he pulled out his phone.
Iori <3: are they done yet?
Riku: pretty sure, yeah
Riku: “brother” heh
Iori <3: gross. pls don’t make that a thing
Riku: it got them off the trail at least
Riku: tho idk why ur so set on telling ur parents first, obvi they can all tell already
Riku: and Mitsuki's literally ur brother
Iori <3: it’s called respect
Iori <3: and my brother deserves none. he finds out last. or perhaps never.
Riku: whatever u say, bunny <3
Iori <3: agahsjskdk
Iori <3: make sure they don’t eat all the cute pancakes before I get back
Iori <3: honey
Iori <3: ew wait no I don’t like it.
Iori <3: give me a do-over.
Riku: call me riku tomorrow and I’ll call it even, bunny
Riku: especially after u ABANDONED ur dear and loving boyfriend to the WOLVES
Iori <3: …fine. deal
Iori <3: riku
Momo, swooning: Yuki's charm is like magic!! <3 <3 Mitsuki: oh no we dont say that word around- Nagi, materializing from the ether: DID SOMEONE SAY ✨MAGICAL COCONA✨??
i7 fake tweets 🫶
i’ve been writing a lot of i7 drabbles/ficlets lately, and I’m open to requests! (someone save me from the stress of college pls)
the two I’ve finished so far are Ringing Hearts and Morning if you wanna check ‘em out :)
Idolish7 fanfic- Ringing Hearts <3
-Nagi x Mitsuki, introspective Mitsuki, fluff, slight angst-
Mitsuki lay on his side in bed, idly swiping through his phone. The only light left on in the room was the small square being projected onto his weary face. Mitsuki should be sleeping at this hour but he couldn’t bring himself to settle, allowing the soft music pouring from the speaker to create a more melancholic atmosphere than the day deserved.
Mitsuki was glad to be getting so much MC work lately. Really, he was.
It was just difficult to set aside the fact that their fans thought he talked too much, knowing that Mitsuki had only made it onto i7 as part of a package deal.
But Mitsuki knew better to dwell on that, so he swiped.
Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.
-David Foster Wallace
Mitsuki lingered on this slide long enough for the music in the background to loop, then he laughed quietly.
How odd was it to go seeking a distraction and stumble across a mirror, instead?
Mitsuki held the moderation Yamato had given him close to his heart, but this- this desperation to keep a white-knuckled grip on the things he held dear- was something written into the very marrow of Mitsuki’s bones.
It was what kept him signing up for auditions- always reaching, even if it meant his hand might be slapped mercilessly away, again and again. It’s what kept him up at night when he ached from the brutal sting of rejection. It’s what had spurred Iori to glue them together in the first place, if only to spare Mitsuki the pain.
Gratitude and insecurity were glued in equal measure to that memory, but now that they were here Mitsuki knew he would never let go of i7 without engraving his desperate desire for their success beneath his fingernails, first.
The thought of ever being dragged away from the group was an uneasy one, though, so Mitsuki swiped again.
Achilles did not slur my name, as people often did, running it together as if in a hurry to be rid of it. Instead, he rang each syllable:
Pa-tro-clus.
-Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller
Again, Mitsuki paused. An image of Nagi’s shining face poked its way into his thoughts, unbidden, whining for Mitsuki to watch Magical Cocona with him.
Mit-su-ki, Nagi always said. Drawing the syllables out so the shape of Mitsuki’s name lingered on his lips.
Thoughtful, Mitsuki raised a finger to his own lips and pressed down.
Mitsuki was used to people wanting to be rid of him. Used to people batting away his outstretched hand in search of something more. Something better.
No one had ever lingered on Mitsuki, before.
The thought brought warmth to Mitsuki’s face and he slammed his phone down on the bed, throwing his room into a sudden, searing darkness.
Mitsuki’s heart pounded against his chest- a wild, fluttering thing- and he felt stripped bare, his racing thoughts thrown into sharp relief without the soft haze of the phone screen to blur them.
It was so warm, all of a sudden.
Had someone messed with the thermostat?
Surely that’s all it was, and not…
Mitsuki carefully grasped his phone, tilting the screen back towards himself.
he rang each syllable, it said. Pa-tro-clus.
A nervous smile tugged at Mitsuki’s burning cheeks, a gentle weightlessness skittering through his stomach.
Mit-su-ki, Nagi always said.
Mit-su-ki.
Surely Nagi knew the emphasis didn’t belong in the middle of his name, and yet…
And yet, he rang each syllable.
Mitsuki pressed his face into his pillow, carefully cradling the belltower resonance that had been struck each time his name was spoken with such care, building and building and building until the brass echo brought blood rushing to the surface of Mitsuki’s smile.
Mit-su-ki, Nagi always said- sparkling and golden and princelike.
“Nagi Rokuya,” Mitsuki whispered into his pillow. “Na-gi.”
The music on Mitsuki’s phone looped gently again.
Mitsuki carefully rang each syllable.
“Ro-ku-ya.”
Delighted laughter bubbled past his lips, swallowed by the walls keeping watch over Mitsuki's feelings.
Maybe…maybe that’s what Iori had meant the other day. When Mitsuki was sitting on the couch with Nagi, watching the man far more than the anime, and he’d placed a hand on Mitsuki’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper, It’s okay, onii-san.
Maybe it would be, Mitsuki thought.
Maybe Nagi Rokuya was another one of those things Mitsuki wouldn’t let go of without a fight.
i7 has me in a chokehold, I’m so invested in this show
Idolish7 fanfic- Morning (1,210 words)
a friend showed me this clip of Idolish7 and i've been binging the show ever since
this is my contribution to the fandom lol
--
“Iorin,” Tamaki whined, slumping into the doorframe of their dorm bathroom, still dressed in his pajamas. “Where’s my toothbrush?”
Iori continued straightening his school tie in the mirror, sparing an irritated glance towards his team member. “I’m not your mother.”
Tamaki’s head slumped lower on the frame. “But Iorin, it’s not there.”
“Where else would it be?” Iori shot back, thankful that Tamaki’s closed eyes allowed him to stealthily tally up the toothbrushes scattered around the sink.
Iori’s toothbrush was resting upright in the cup meant for toothbrushes, as was Sogo-san’s and Yamato-san’s. Nagi-san’s- an obnoxiously pink, wand-shaped thing- was beside the cup at least, and Mitsuki’s was balanced on the tiny line of counter ledge the same way he’d done since they were young, and Nanase-san’s was in the shower like a heathen.
Tamaki’s toothbrush was not there.
“King pudding,” Tamaki mumbled.
Iori stomped on his foot and Tamaki jerked to attention with a cry. “Don’t you dare fall asleep!” Iori chastised.
“But-”
“Either go find it or go buy a new one, but if you’re late getting back I will leave for school without you.”
Tamaki yawned. “I’ll just have a mint.”
Iori frowned. “That’s unsanitary.”
“Then I’ll ask the manager for one.”
“That’s rude.” Iori pushed past Tamaki to exit the bathroom. “She’s way too busy already to go running errands for you.”
Tamaki groaned, letting Iori’s small nudge of his shoulder turn into a slow-motion pantomime of being shoved to the ground. “I just won’t go to school then,” he said, curling up on the hallway’s dirty carpet.
Iori huffed and stepped over Tamaki’s limp body to make his way towards the kitchen where Sogo-san, predictably, sat at the table nursing a warm cup of tea.
The mug was halfway to his lips when he noticed Iori’s approach and he paused, smiling. “Oh, Iori-kun. Good mo-”
“Tamaki’s on the ground because he’s lazy and can’t find his toothbrush and won’t go buy a new one and if he tries to leave the house with me without cleaning his mouth I might kill him.”
Sogo-san hardly blinked while Iori explained the situation, and only after a long sip of tea that had Iori tapping his foot on the ground in impatience did he finally say, “You’re not really a morning person, are you, Iori-kun?”
Iori frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Sogo-san smiled gently. “You’re just normally a lot more…level-headed.”
“I’m being level-headed,” Iori huffed, “I went and got you, didn’t I?’
Sogo-san blinked. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Iori, maturely, resisted the urge to groan aloud and walked (not stomped) to the fridge instead to pour himself a glass of orange juice. As he watched the glass fill with bright pulpy liquid, he mentally recited, it’s good for you, there are antioxidants, it helps your gut and when he felt marginally more relaxed he turned to Sogo-san. Calmly.
“You manage him for Mezzo, don’t you?”
Sogo-san made a so-so gesture with his head, mouth twisting with uncertainty and what were probably thoughts he wouldn’t dare let escape his polite mouth.
“So manage him,” Iori demanded, downing his glass in one go and depositing it in the sink where it belonged. He wrinkled his nose at the myriad of cups still littering the counter from yesterday.
Iori lived with a horde of pigs.
Sogo-san continued to drink his tea, lightly tapping out the melody to one of their most recent songs on the tabletop with the soft pad of his fingertip.
The clock continued to tick away.
Iori marched to the chair directly opposite him and stared- maturely and unflinchingly.
Ten seconds, Iori predicted.
Sogo-san’s tapping turned more forced, his gaze darting anywhere but Iori.
Eight…
“He’s not my responsibility, you know.”
Iori lightly tipped his head in acknowledgement, then let his gaze track pointedly over all the empty chairs surrounding them.
Six…
“Tamaki-kun needs to learn to do things for himself,” Sogo-san pointed out. “This could be a learning experience!”
Iori raised his eyebrow.
Sogo-san’s mouth twisted.
Four…
“This isn’t even Mezzo related. Not really.”
Iori scoffed.
Three…
“Maybe…maybe he’s already gone looking for his toothbrush?” he suggested hopefully.
Two…
Iori discreetly held his breath, hoping to punctuate the perfect silence permeating the dorms. There was absolutely no toothbrush-related ruffling.
One.
“Oh, fine,” Sogo-san sighed, rising unhappily from the table and pointing a finger towards Iori, “but I’m not his keeper.”
“Uh-huh,” Iori agreed lightly.
“I’m not,” Sogo-san repeated, denial thick on his tongue as he walked toward the bathroom, tea still in hand.
“And I don’t have a thing for idiots,” Iori murmured under his breath.
There were still fifteen minutes before he and Tamaki needed to leave for school so maybe he could just shut his eyes for a-
Nanase-san suddenly pulled out the chair beside Iori and shot him a grin far too sunny for the early morning hour, placing two plates of toast down. “You don’t have a what?” he asked pleasantly, sliding one toward Iori.
Iori squinted in the face of such brightness, then cleared his throat.
“Nothing. Is this all you know how to make?”
Nanase-san’s bright smile melted into a frown. “I told you I’ve never lived on my own before,” he complained.
Iori took a bite of the offering, pleased.
“You’re pathetic.”
“I am not,” Nanase-san denied halfheartedly, too used to this particular insult to rise to the bait like he had when they had first formed Idolish7.
Iori would just have to try harder, then.
“You didn’t even make anything at all! How’re you gonna stay healthy for the group if you’re skipping meals, huh?”
Iori spared a glance at Nanase’s overly sincere expression to ensure he wasn’t making things up but no, Nanase’s best rebuttal was an earnest appeal to Iori’s health.
How cute.
Iori cleared his throat. “How could I cook with Tamaki-kun making such a fuss?”
“What? Tamaki’s still asleep in the hallway.”
A spike of irritation shot through Iori. After he’d gone through all that effort to get Sogo-san to solve the problem, too.
“He better not be. I’ll kill him.”
Nanase-san laughed, unfairly awake and amused at such an early hour. His right hand rested comfortably on the back of Iori’s chair. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”
Iori was…not sure what kind of a person he was, yet.
Still, he knew he found delight in giving Nanase-san a hard time and, mature as he was, Iori couldn’t see a reason to give that up when it made him feel so pleasantly warm.
Iori shrugged carelessly, tucking away any hint of the smile he felt growing in his chest. “Maybe I’d be cheerier if you didn’t burn my toast.”
“What?” Nanase-san exclaimed. “No way! I didn’t burn anything!”
Iori stared at him blanky until Nanase-san began to fidget, his cheeks taking on a bit of the color Iori worked so hard to see everyday.
“Well,” Nanase-san mumbled, eyes darting away, “you ate it anyway so it couldn’t have been that bad.”
Iori rose from the table and placed his empty plate in the sink, where it belonged, lips curling upward only with Nanase-san at his back.
“I’m very polite, Nanase-san.”
“Polite my ass.”
STARMYU EP 1
ok wow i loved it. LIKE WOW the opening gave idolish 7 vibes, but then the school reminds me of yumenosaki and the kao council is like Ouran boys i love every bit of it. i was curious tho like WHY DID THEY SING SUDDENLY???? I WAS SO SURPRISED and im so happy for their team i feel like they're the underachiever team which reminds me weirdly of enstars with alkaloid but nonetheless, setting the weird comparisons aside the first episode was rlly cute and kinda light for me so im very excited abt it moving forward. AND NATSUKI HANAE IS THERE SO WOWW
this is the perfect last scene, AFFECTiON it will always be
mitsuki placed first in a popularity poll mitsuki nation we are winning
mitsuki cheeb practice :3c
unfinished stuff from june/july..... (sorry to everyone ive ever told that I'd finish these..... motivation is at an all time low)
happy 9th anniversary to idolish7!!!!!
ATTEMPED THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME..... it should not have taken as long as it did but . It's fine .
(and sorry there's so many tags!!! I had no idea what to put)
IDOLiSH7 3rd Album "LEADiNG TONE" to be released on November 20, 2024.
♫ Regular Edition: CD + Booklet
♫ First Limited Edition: CD + Bonus CD + Booklet + Original Goods (Acrylic Stand)
Store-exclusive bonus
世界は二分されている。the world has been split in two.