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.
“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
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.”