Togachako As... My Melody And Kuromi 💕

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.”

Bullet Point Tag

@aalinaaaaaa thanks for the tag! i decided to complete it for my in-progress fic, Short For Grenade

Drumstick soup? my favorite, yum

Anger issues -> pet dog pipeline

No weapons of mass destruction

Weapons of medium destruction are chill tho

Hashtag parenting win

Hives of love

You say dog, he says evil compass

Happy kidnap your friend(?) day!

Deny, deflect, detonate (and detonate one more time for good measure)

Idiot, dumbass, useless, stupid (affectionate)

This house is a prison

When your secrets keep being spilt by a guy you're not even telling them to

Rabbit trade? Denied. Loser.

Middle aged lady thieves

That's code for "my son has no friends"

All the phobias

Missing Masaru hours

Kidnapping, the sequel

Aaaand

Squirrel 1, Katsuki 0

The End :)

trying to find the time/energy to write now that the semester has started up again is not going to be as easy peasy as i thought lol

writers, pls reblog with your fav writing rituals/habits! i love getting inspired by seeing what works for other people :)

As promised, here's what I've got so far:

Summary: 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.

I feel like I was able to address more of the story elements in this summary, since Forest Fire is mainly about Lincoln reckoning with his past (out of necessity, rather than desire) while still leaving an air of mystery around the specifics of the story

I'm still figuring out how best to frame this, though, so any comments/advice/questions are more than welcome!!

in 2025 i'd like to write a full, first draft of my WIP Forest Fire (working title) and I think some external motivation would be a great push for me to keep engaging with my piece on a regular schedule! soo, what would you guys like to see me post by the end of january?

Are you caught up on MHA? If so, could you write something with Katsuki and Izuku talking some more after the war (follow up to their conversation in CH424)?

Yes, I'm all caught up! Sorry this one took so long, but I hope you enjoy it!

Author's note: it starts a little mushy but this could be read as platonic bakugou & izuku or pre-slash bkdk, whatever you fancy. there's nothing explicitly romantic but they are very important to each other and i find that so charming! lol anyways, 1,866 words, mha manga spoilers ahead. happy reading!

Izuku could recognize Kacchan in the dark. He knew the shape of his voice, the scent of his sweat, the spark-crackle-pop of his quirk. Izuku knew the feel of Kacchan’s hands on his shoulder. In his hair. On his back. 

Izuku knew him bloodied and unmoving on the ground.

It’s a relief, Izuku thinks, to know him now by the sound of a rolling IV stand. 

“The nurse told you not to walk around so much, Kacchan.”

The rolling in the hallway slams to a sudden halt and Izuku imagines that Kacchan is annoyed at being caught. Then it starts up again at a slightly faster pace and Izuku hardly has the time to smile before Kacchan’s scowling figure passes through the doorway to Izuku’s hospital room. 

“You put a fucking tracking chip on me or something?” he complains. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku protests- weakly, he’ll admit- joy and relief jumping to take control of his brain at the sight of Kacchan, alive- but it’s the attempt that counts. 

“‘S not even that fuckin far,” Kacchan replies, the tinny chik-chik-chik of squeaky wheels on tile following him across the floor before he settles himself in the visitor’s chair beside Izuku’s cot. “The view’s better in here, anyway.”

Izuku hums, turning his gaze beyond Kacchan’s swaying IV bag to All Might’s empty cot. The retired hero goes to physical therapy on Thursday afternoons, now, and every time the doctors take off one of his casts or bandages, Izuku feels like he can breathe a little easier. 

“That’s true.”

Izuku doesn’t think the sight of All Might will ever not be comforting to him. 

Kacchan clicks his tongue in annoyance and presses one finger against Izuku’s unbandaged cheek, turning his head. 

“I’m talking about the fucking window, fanboy.”

Izuku startles, a small laugh falling from his lips as he obligingly turns towards the window instead. A few tree branches gently brush against the glass and in the distance he can make out the big silver fountain that rests in the middle of the hospital’s courtyard.  

“Oh, yeah that’s nice, too,” Izuku agrees absentmindedly. He’s not sure what Kacchan can see from his own hospital room but he’s pretty sure it’s not much different from this one. 

Kacchan shifts like he wants to cross his arms, then scowls and starts tapping his nails against the armrest instead with a huff.

Izuku watches the steady rise and fall of Kacchan’s chest, unsure if he should say anything. Unsure why Kacchan keeps coming to his room in the first place. 

Two days ago, Kacchan had muttered something about how being in Izuku’s room made it harder for his mom to track him down and nag him and the week before it was because he had beef with the nurse on duty and wanted to make her life difficult.

But even after a lifetime of analyzing Kacchan, all Izuku can really discern now is that there’s something more pulling Kacchan to the plastic chair by Izuku’s bedside. 

Izuku hates the not-knowing. He thinks he’d hate it more, though, if Kacchan got what he needed and stopped sneaking out to visit him, so he stays quiet. 

Childishly, he wants to poke Kacchan back but both of his arms are still mummified and unusable so he contents himself with imagining it. 

“The fuck are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Izuku lies, gazing happily at Kacchan’s familiar scowl. “You’ll get wrinkles, Kacchan.”

Kacchan narrows his eyes. 

“You’ll get a fist in your face.”

“You’ll get knuckle pain.”

Kacchan scoffs. “Think your face is made of steel or something? When did you start acting like hot shit, huh?”

“Probably since they started pumping me full of pain meds,” Izuku admits, grinning. “Makes me feel steel-y.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“It’s not as strong as the stuff they had to put All Might on, though,” Izuku continues seriously. “After his surgery, he told me the same story about fighting an American villain with David Shield seven times in a row.”

Kacchan smirks. “And I bet you ate that shit up.”

Izuku flushes and turns his gaze towards the ceiling. “Sometimes the details would change,” he defends. 

When Kacchan doesn’t respond, Izuku shifts his gaze back and watches on as Kacchan wrestles with his inability to cross his arms again. Izuku really doesn’t want Kacchan to leave, but…

“Kacchan, if you’re in pain maybe you should-”

“Shitty Hair said we should talk,” Kacchan interrupts. 

Izuku fights to sit up straighter in his cot, confused. “Kirishima did?”

He’s grateful when Kacchan doesn’t rush to help him. Doesn’t help him at all, actually, which soothes the constant drone of quirkless-helpless-quirkless that Izuku’s been trying to drown in his subconscious lately. 

Izuku hesitates before he bites the bullet. 

“...talk about what?”

Izuku’s not sure if it’s a good sign or a bad one that Kacchan seems equally, if not more, uncomfortable. 

“...our conversation,” Kacchan finally spits out. “The one we had here.”

These past few weeks, they’ve had a lot of conversations in Izuku and All Might’s shared little hospital room. Most of them pointless. Some of them sweet. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know what Kacchan’s referring to, though, and it’s exactly the thing that Izuku would rather leave buried and brushed past so he focuses on Kacchan’s forehead instead of his bullshit-piercing eyes and says, 

“Yeah, it was really nice to be recognized by All Might, right? Like, next level awesome. I don’t think I’ll ever emotionally recover from that, actually. I think I was smiling in my sleep that whole-”

“Izuku,” Kacchan says, and it cuts through him like a knife. 

“Hm?”

“Cut the crap,” Kacchan says, his glare fading into something softer and more uncertain. “We have shit we have to talk about.”

Izuku gnaws on his bottom lip, uncertain enough to harden his resolve and force out a nervous laugh. The nerves are genuine, anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Kacchan demands, quietly dangerous. Then he rises from his chair with a scoff. “This is fucking stupid! Why won’t you-?” Kacchan starts to shout, before letting his anger fall from him with one, deep exhale, leaving behind only weariness and a shadow of what looks like resignation.

It looks wrong on Kacchan’s face. 

“Fine,” Kacchan sighs. “Whatever. If that’s how you’re gonna be then I’m fucking outta here.”

“I-” Izuku catches one glimpse of Kacchan’s back and his hardened resolve collapses like a child's toy tower. “Wait, wait no! Kacchan, I’m sorry! I’m- I’m sorry. We can talk about…it. About what you want, just please don’t...”

“Wasn’t gonna leave forever,” Kacchan mutters, not quite facing Izuku but not walking towards the door, either. 

Izuku tastes salt on his lips before he even realizes he’s crying. “Promise?”

Kacchan’s head whips around so quickly Izuku can’t help but imagine that he’d pulled on some invisible string. 

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Kacchan says, voice angry and honest in a way that soothes the awful pang in Izuku’s chest that the doctors have assured him isn’t physical. “This is why we need to talk, you stupid nerd.”

Izuku hiccups and nods, releasing slow streams of breath from his mouth until he feels he has his voice under control.

Kacchan moves back into the chair, alternating between watching him and the monitors still hooked up to Izuku’s vitals.

“I’m…I’m okay,” Izuku finally says. 

“I’m not,” Kacchan replies bluntly. “Lie to me again and I’ll break your stupid skull.”

Izuku freezes, then lets himself sink morosely into the pillow behind him. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Kacchan scolds. “Be honest.”

Izuku darts a considering glance towards Kacchan, but he seems sincere, so Izuku murmurs, “You sound kind of like a preschool teacher right now.”

Kacchan jolts under the observation, clearly not expecting it. Then he regains his bearings and jabs a finger in front of Izuku’s nose. “Then stop acting like a guilty little snot-nosed runt!”   

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“What…now?” Izuku asks.

Kacchan sighs deeply through his nose, slumping back in his chair as he thinks it over. 

“Now…I apologize,” he finally says. 

Izuku frowns. “But you already-”

“I know,” Kacchan interrupts stiffly, belatedly scratching at his nose, brow furrowing uncomfortably while he peers past Izuku and towards the silver fountain in the distance. “But I…” Kacchan starts, before his eyes suddenly jump back to Izuku. “And I’m only gonna say it once, understand?”

Izuku nods. “I have my listening ears on, Kacchan.”

“Your-” he starts to repeat, incredulous, before scoffing and turning back towards the window. The hint of a smile Izuku had managed to coax out turns down again, drawing out the unhappy wrinkles in Kacchan’s forehead.  

“When the doc said I might not be able to use my arm again and that half of my quirk, I…fuck. I thought about how you never had one to start with and how it never slowed you down so like hell was I gonna chop the damn limb off and not do rehab. I’d kick rehab’s ass. Of course I could, full quirk or no, because you could.”

Izuku’s breath catches in his throat. 

“And that’s…that’s something you gave to me.”

Kacchan’s eyes slowly find Izuku’s, searing through him, blood and bone, with their intensity. 

“That’s something I took from you.”

“Kacchan-”

“I’m sorry, Izuku.”

Izuku rapidly shakes his head. “No, Kacchan you…you gave me a symbol of victory.”

Kacchan’s mouth twists. “You’ve said.”

“But you don’t get it. I…” Izuku squeezes his eyes shut tight, face already growing warm. “It’s…you have no idea how much of my heroism was just…yours. Yours that you gave me and that I relied on when I didn’t have time to think.” Izuku lets out a shaky laugh. “I always wanted to save people with a smile because of All Might, but…the smile I wore when it mattered was yours, Kacchan.” 

Izuku tentatively peeks one eye open, surprised to find Kacchan so stunned. Surprised that he didn’t already know, but…

Maybe they have a lot more to learn about each other, after all. 

“I became a hero because of you.”

Kacchan frowns. 

“And in spite of you,” Izuku concedes. “It’s all…mixed up. In my head. But I don’t…I wouldn’t have traded a second of it.”

Kacchan startles under the declaration, peering back at Izuku with wide, searching, crimson eyes that Izuku thinks he’s seeing more clearly than he ever has before. 

“You wouldn’t?” Kacchan asks. 

Izuku shakes his head earnestly. “No, of course not,” he murmurs. “Kacchan’s amazing.”

Kacchan blinks. Hard. Tears well up in his waterline. 

“Izuku’s amazing, too,” he says, scrubbing pointlessly at his face. “Even though he’s a fucking stupid sap who’s always saying embarrassing shit.”

Izuku laughs brightly, even though he’s crying too. 

“I’ll kick rehab’s ass before you’re even outta that damn cot!” Kacchan announces. 

“Nuh uh,” Izuku shoots back happily. “I’ll be so Plus Ultra once these casts are off, you won’t even believe it!”

Kacchan stops wiping his eyes and peers back at Izuku through his fingertips, a genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

“I’d believe it,” he says. 

And Izuku? He feels a little bit put-together, after that.

"this lasting pain"

hello saiki k-ers im back in my kbys era after like 4 years [gnawing on the bars of my enclosure]

Out of all the mha AUs you’ve made, is there one that you’re particularly fond of?

The fusion au I made with my friend :’) <3 also scammers to lovers! It’s such a silly au that I just kinda made on a whim and turned into something special and I’m always thinking about it lol

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