HOMESICK

synopsis: when the exhaustion of loving finally takes you.

tags: xavier x non!mc, ANGST!!! hurt/ comfort(?)

word count: 4.4k

likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

authors note: xavier’s version of this. let me know if you want versions of the other Lis. also please give me some ideas!!! divider by: @fairytopea

ACT I: VIGIL

Laughter has never been so suffocating.

You watch, not from a distance, but next to MC.

You think it's worse to be this close and to hear everything you're hearing now. In all the years of trials and tribulations of knowing Xavier, have you ever heard him laugh so brightly, smile so widely, or love so loudly?

The quiet, ever aloof prince of Philos—the man you followed, crossing stars, passing meteors, abandoning the place you once called home—beams brighter than his evil.

You think about all the things that built up to this moment.

To you, he was the stars: bright and all-encompassing. His silence—always silent—ever consuming, as you trailed in the shadow he left behind. Throughout the years of companionship and camaraderie, you followed blindly, as you always do, even when you knew what following him meant: an ill-fated destiny you could never rewrite.

You knew MC once before—the same woman who took the world by storm, a hurricane in his life that devoured him whole, leaving nothing for you behind.

Just like the MC you once knew, this MC is just as captivating.

The universe is playing a sick joke. He is your longest companion, the very last of your kind—the last light of your planet, your world, your culture. You left it all behind because, to you, loving him meant more than the comfort of your people and the safety of your planet. Loving him was worth leaving everything behind.

Ironically enough, he thought the same thing.

And despite it all—the friendship, the companionship, the camaraderie—you’re not even a placeholder for the love he holds dear. Nothing but white noise that followed him around, that clung to him at every turn.

A persistent, pathetic, piteous echo.

You are so close, and yet, so far.

Pulled in by the gravity of his very being. You think—thought—that all this time, just being beside him would be enough to soothe the dull ache of your heart, the perpetual pain that roamed your bones, and the exhaustion that swallowed you whole.

Like a dreamer, you think of the ways he could love you in the same capacity he loves her. That if you show up enough times, reach out and fill the silence he leaves behind; that the days of dedicated devotion, the sacrifices made along the way, would surmise to something worthy of being loved.

Worthy of being seen.

You’re left stranded in his orbit, gravity pulling harder the more you think you’ve got a handle on your thoughts. The pain, the agony, the suffering. Thinking that sticking by his side was all you ever needed, that you can’t be greedy—because having him was enough, and having him be yours was pure insanity.

You hear the laughter erupt once again, likely from a silly joke MC made. You pull yourself out from whatever hole you've dug, pull your lips into a smile the best you can, laughing along. It's hearty and very becoming of your character, you think, since MC wraps a secure arm around yours and squeezes with affection.

You allow her, of course—straining your cheeks until they burn, letting out a long-drawn sigh that fills the room.

Despite what others may think, as you converse along luridly, as if the volume of your voice could hide the heavy heart you bear, you've never been so quiet.

…

ACT II: DREAM

You once thought that the convenience of being neighbours was a good thing.

Next door to Xavier—close to him, but never next to him.

Walking to the Hunters Association together, coming home together, eating together. Just being together.

But you could tell Xavier wasn’t ever there—not really.

Despite being with him for so long, his mind was usually elsewhere. Sometimes in dreamland, but mostly—actually, always—drifting to her.

At some point, in between the solo bickering and one-woman conversations, you, too, found yourself wandering.

Like your mind sanctioned itself in your own self-made isolation.

Quieter. Smaller. Dimmer.

You stop talking as vividly—maintaining just enough energy to keep up appearances. Your voice, so used to fading into the background, remained where it was so oftentimes pushed towards—away from everything. Everyone.

You stop tagging along in the mornings, early days, and late nights, save for the obligatory lunch with your co-workers.

You stop leaving your apartment, taking refuge in a bed you’ve grooved your body into, like a coffin awaiting your arrival. An apartment you’ve grown used to, replicating the only home you knew.

And you’re just so tired. Tired of it all. Exhaustion clings to you like chasing breath. Sleep evades you like the plague.

It was your choice to cling to hope—to leave your home and to follow, naively, in hopes that one day, he would look at you the same way you look at him. To experience his love: the soft edges, the warmth, the gentleness. To think quiet, everlasting devotion would get you anywhere—devotion that controlled you, consumed you. Devotion that you thought would be enough, as silly as it sounds, to at least hold a candle next to the sun.

Devotion that instead puts you in the hands of despair.

You’re stupid to still hope, to yearn for a love that was never yours to have. To attempt to go against fate—against an entire lifetime of love.

So really, it was your burden to bear—and bear it alone.

And the funniest thing of it all? Xavier never once visited you. Checked on you. Sought you out. Even the tenant right below you, Charlie, visited, offering warm welcomes of fresh bread and a simple smile.

As you lie on your couch, enveloping yourself in the embrace of your own naivety, forced by Jenna to take a day off, you listen to the familiar silence.

Which is soon broken by the snubbed sound of light that snuffs the room.

It’s the first time in weeks—29 days, 21 hours, 2 minutes—Xavier has stepped foot in your apartment.

You don’t make a move to look at him or say anything like you normally do.

You both reside in the deafening silence. One by choice, one succumbed.

For the first time, Xavier breaks the silence: “You weren’t at work today.”

You could laugh, scream, cry, or all of the above, but you don’t.

Quietness reaps your soul.

Xavier continues. “MC was worried about you.”

A lifetime's worth of companionship, and he wasn’t even here to seek you out.

You truly are stupid.

Xavier isn’t used to the silence—not this kind. Despite being so quiet all the time, this silence was completely foreign. It was heavy and uninviting, almost suffocating.

There’s a moment of unrelenting anticipation as he waits to see you respond.

When you don’t, he steps forward. One step, then two—then he’s at the foot of the couch, peering down at you like a deity summoned—unconsciously shining with that light of his.

Steel blue eyes bore into you, trying to read you.

But you’re too fractured to be read. At least not clearly.

“Are you okay?”

‘Am I okay?’ You want to laugh at the thought, to make fun of the words asked.

Were you ever okay?

You miss it all—your family, your friends, your people, your home.

To think, once there was a time you chose to abandon it all in the name of love—where you thought complacency was where you belonged: beside a man you knew never loved you, maybe never even liked you.

Now you can only sneer at the fact, as you reminisce about a place far and forgotten, only finding a place deep within your memory.

Xavier prompts a different question. “Have you been sleeping?”

And for the first time in a while, you finally speak.

“I’ve been dreaming a lot.”

First, about you. About us. About what could have been. About what never was.

“What about?” His voice holds something softer than you ever thought possible from him. Something reserved only for her, never for you.

It almost makes you break. To confess everything. To finally open up your heart and pour all your pain out. To free yourself from self-made shackles and unwanted thoughts. To hear the very softness you crave—to be held, caressed, embraced.

But you don’t. Because even with that unreadable look in his eye—the same eyes you’ve longed for all this time—you know what they hold.

Obligation

“Home,” you say simply.

For the first time in a while, Xavier looks at you—really looks at you. He’s known you all this time, the image of you ingrained in his brain like second nature. He knows you—you’re his oldest friend, most trusted companion. He's seen all sides of you, but the person he’s looking at looks nothing like the you he remembers.

He looks at you and can’t even recognise you. Cruelly, for a moment, he even wonders if it’s really you.

“I don’t see any changes.” Xavier takes a quick glance around; everything remains stagnant, as it always has.

You don’t correct him—not this time. You hum a noise between affirmation and acknowledgement and drift off to a place once forgotten.

Silence consumes the soul once again, with Xavier wondering when he had become so complacent with it all: with your constant presence, voice to fill the spaces he’s left behind, unrelenting energy, and unwavering spirit.

“You’re right. Nothing has changed.”

…

ACT III: DRIFT

Xavier hasn’t visited since.

Not that you didn’t expect it.

You still see him at work, at lunch with MC, and on the rarest occasion, you bump into him in the hallway of your apartment complex—like strangers.

You do your best to find a new rhythm in this life, as your absence becomes more common and your presence goes with the echo of your voice. You’re seen less and less.

Maybe you were never seen at all—not truly.

You find that it’s easier to deal with heartache in the same way Xavier deals with everything: in silence.

Silence, although not foreign, not even new to you, seeks you out and sticks to you like a foreboding message.

You’ve spent years so bright, a will so strong it held on tight enough to kill you. Your loudness brought you here, away from Philos, so as the bits of your spirit whittle away along with your soul, silence is left to fill in the gaps of an empty shell.

You learn to live without Xavier in your life—as though he isn’t the last thing you have of your home, of the love you once felt, the comfort, the security. You learn to live without Xavier and learn to nurse a pain that has become something of a lover.

You had to learn to live because the world kept spinning—even when you’re lost in a place, unfamiliarly familiar, and can do nothing but live on.

But are you even living at this point? Even a dead girl walking has rights to a life—to living.

You’re leaving for another mission. In spite of Jenna’s protests, you’d rather fight to exhaustion—to blend the pain in your chest with the ache of muscles.

Your face reflects your volition. Eyes pulled down by the weight of your burden, face pale like a dying star. Despite trying, your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, your laughter isn’t as bright, and your voice isn’t as loud.

You wait for Jenna’s reluctant orders. She’ll be damned if she lets you out on another solo mission—because despite your incredible hunting rates, you too are human.

A voice so familiar pulls your attention, and you look up to see Xavier standing before you—ice blonde hair and steel blue eyes in tow.

How long has he been standing there?

“Jenna assigned me as your partner for the mission.” Your face shows no expression—and not for lack of trying.

You laugh inwardly at the thought.

You're too much like him, in a sense. Loving hard enough to abandon your home, to follow blindly with fate—in spite of your own shortcomings. To silently love, quietly devote, and slowly disappear.

You purse your lips and let out a sigh too heavy for someone like you.

Xavier is almost taken by surprise.

“Let's go.” Xavier can hear it in your tone, and see it in your voice. How truly tired you really are—incomparable to his ever-waking sleepiness.

Your exhaustion runs you dry.

Again, silence befalls the two of you—an unwelcome rhythm that has found a place in the cracks of your relationship.

For the first time, Xavier trails behind you. Watching you. Observing you. And if he didn’t see your face or know your frame, he’d think the person walking in front of him was nothing but a stranger.

This time, Xavier walks in your shadow.

…

ACT IV: SILENCE

You think you’re fading.

The remnants of who you once were have been whittled down to the bone. You’re broken—maybe you always have been. Maybe this was who you were always supposed to be.

You’re so tired, not just emotionally but physically too.

The never-ending stream of wanders is starting to take a toll, even on professionals such as you and Xavier.

Your sword is dull, chipped at the edges, and your wounds scatter across your frame, staining your skin in a dirty shade of red.

Even the almighty knight is struggling to keep up with the demand.

So, as you find refuge in a murky cave, to recuperate the best you can, you find that the full-body ache starts to return.

You lean against a well-placed boulder, breath shallow and your grip loose, as your eyes haze over the fire in front of you.

You feel the warmth reach out for you—gently, creeping through the shell of yourself.

It’s quiet, save for the crackle of the flame.

You feel peaceful for once—the hunt muddling your thoughts so much that you can’t even think straight. Or maybe it’s the exhaustion of not sleeping.

Despite it all, you feel a strange sense of tranquillity. One with the throb in your chest that makes it hard to breathe, but is easier to deal with now that everything aches.

It’s peaceful, you think, as you fade into whatever hole you’ve dug all those years ago. Your mind is muddled, and your soul flickers with the last bits of who you were.

Suddenly, you’re pulled back out—again by the very men who left you there, like a nostalgic toy forgotten all these years.

Your eyes pull away from the fire.

You soak in his gaze. It holds none of the same love you see him give out so freely to MC. It’s hard and stern—years of knighthood sewn into his features. He looks at you like he doesn’t know you at all.

Calloused hand gripping your shoulder—it’s firm enough to shift your attention, your body facing him.

You look at him and try to find the line between succour and obligation. Try to find one thing that says you mattered—even just for a second.

You were foolish to believe that you could remain just his friend, companion, comrade. You were stupid, dumb, idiotic.

You were completely blind to it all—to think that his love could have relieved something burning in you. Something insatiable. Something permanent.

“You’re drifting.” Xavier’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and heavy heart.

You’ve been drifting.

You don’t make an attempt to joke like you used to—not even a weak smile. You sit back and stare at him like you don’t even know him.

“You’ve been doing that more often.” You take a moment to digest what he says—something he’s noticed entirely on his own, not by MC’s worrywart love.

Once upon a time, you would’ve thought it was normal for him to notice these types of things—the dullness of a close second. But now, you’re surprised. Shocked, even. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Where are you going?” he prompts, and his voice holds something so intrinsic to the soul. Something you can’t find here. Something like home.

You’re fading, like the light of his evol—dimmer, as you’re pulled into the gravity of your own mind.

You’d like to tell him—if not as a lover, then a friend:

I’m lost. I’m gone. I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m furious. I’m not myself. Not with what’s left of who I am.

I am not home.

You don’t. Despite something inside you telling you you must. That it’s not worth dying on this hill.

You think: How much deeper of a hole can you dig before you vanish? Before you're gone? Forgotten? Never having existed in the first place.

Until you’re not a person, but a memory.

You don’t tell him anything, because that’s not the kind of relationship you have—not anymore.

In the midst of the silence, your voice finally breaks through.

Quiet. Cracked. Almost gone.

“I’m thinking of going home.” There’s finality in your tone. Weak as your voice may be, Xavier hasn’t heard such certainty from you in months.

His eyes knit in confusion, contort in concern.

Maybe you’re just tired. But there’s something to your expression—an unspeakable hollowness that wasn’t there before. Your eyes haze over with something distant.

A body without a soul.

Like he always does, he remains silent. Never reaching out. He’s seen you get through worse, come back stronger. He’s seen everything. He knows you.

Or maybe... he knew you.

All the years of companionship will amount to something. It has to. He’s known you for so long. You stuck by his side even through death. You truly were the one stable thing in his life. Never needing to chase—always there, beside him. With him.

It was always you and him—even as he fights his way through the forgotten memories of MC, you remain.

Though, something claws at him, as his hand gently travels down your arm. To reach. To ask what you meant. To wonder if you meant the apartment beside his, where it reflected the culture of Philos, somehow capturing the stars in every object you bought.

He wants to ask if home is with him.

But he doesn’t.

Silence is there to greet him again—him only, he thinks, because you seem so used to it now.

Unfamiliar territory.

His eyes travel to his hand on yours, afraid to let go for some reason. As if letting go meant never seeing you again.

Your head is slumped motionless against his shoulder. His eyes peer onto your back—and then he sees it.

The blood stains the rock behind you. Your back is adorned with gashes that soak your uniform.

“Y/N,” he calls out, like it’s the only thing he knows. Because it’s the only thing he can do.

He hears no response. Not even a whisper of a shallow breath.

It’s not quiet. Not even small.

It’s silent.

Then he feels it. The way your eyes droop down to the fire. The limpness of your hand on his. The paleness. The coldness.

The death.

His spare hand reaches out.

He shakes you. “Don’t close your eyes.”

But you don’t abide—swaying with the motion of his force.

You could do anything. Do everything. Move mountains. Slay beasts. You were strong. Firm. Confident. He knew you could get through anything.

“Come on, just open your eyes. Can’t you do that?”

“One breath. That’s all I need.”

“Hold me tight, Y/N.”

Xavier cradles your gaunt body as he pulls your head taut to his shoulder. He rocks you like a sleeping child, holding you tight—tighter than he ever has before.

He’s shaking—and not from the cold.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but suddenly, the silence breaks.

And he hears everything. Sees everything. Feels everything.

And he cries.

Because that’s all he can do.

…

ACT V: LINGER

Xavier likes to think that he notices your absence.

The way people step over the shells of your name, the routes taken to avoid the common spaces you once occupied in the living. The untouched work desk, memorialised by those who remembered her. The vacancy next door — the home she built away from home — now barren, her things sold, thrown away, or forgotten.

MC, who was so loud with her affection, mourned just as passionately. Her heart sewn onto her sleeve as she cried the loss of a friend. Flowers tended on the desk of a fallen soldier, and distance built from the apartment upstairs.

But really, he doesn’t.

The way you’ve faded so naturally out of his life — never moving, never reaching. The walk to and from home is the same. His apartment is the same. His life remains the same. Like you were never there. Like the image of your smile wasn’t something that pushed him through distant times.

Like you never meant anything to him.

Like the years of friendship, companionship, camaraderie — all amounted to a tombstone with your name etched into it.

And he hates himself for it.

For being so complacent. For never seeing you. Never hearing you. Never reaching out. For always thinking you’d remain the same: the loyal, competent pillar in his life. For thinking that his silence meant nothing to you.

Because it did. It meant everything.

He hates how he’s living life like he always did — like you weren’t ever part of him. Regret, guilt, grief — they all settle in his bones, for a person he can’t even remember.

Along with the memory of you, time passed, as it always does. And as time passed, he slowly forgot.

Your goals and aspirations. Your loves, your hates.

Your dreams.

He can barely remember your face. The last time you laughed. Your smile.

He can barely remember you at all.

Only pulled in by the gravity of his grief, where he finds you at the centre of it all.

To think he was so far from you. The irony now is that he can’t ever leave.

Stuck on a cursed image of a woman who meant so much to him.

Who held the moon up so he could shine with the stars.

He sits on his bed, light voided from the room. The pictures from your apartment piled by his bedside, facing the stars, watching — as you always did.

For the first time, he’s not tired at all.

Is this how you felt? How restless you were?

When he showed up that time, too worried about MC and her anxieties. Too quick to solve her issues that he hadn’t noticed how your eye bags sank deep enough to stain your spirit. How you lay, lost, drifting to a place he couldn’t reach.

Dreaming of home.

And just like his home, his culture, his people — you too join the faint memory of Philos.

His phone buzzes, bright. The screen illuminates the room.

Xavier thinks it’s MC again — she doesn’t know the depth of what you and Xavier shared, but she understood the weight of long-term partnership.

At first, he answered every time — to relieve her worries, to silently say he was fine.

But now, everything feels like a farce.

A lie he tells himself as much as he tells the world.

If the absence, the silence, isn’t acknowledged — maybe it’ll keep things still. To stop time from moving.

Because if time doesn’t move, then the memory of you won’t fade.

And you’ve faded enough.

He picks up the phone and waits.

Then he hears it — the soft laughter he longed for. It’s gentle and hearty, so full of life.

Xavier peels the phone from his ear to peer at the screen.

Then he sees it. The light. The brightness of a smile lost to memory, now alone. It’s displayed in front of him — teeth bared, lips stretched wide with a feeling he hasn’t seen in years.

It’s you.

Laughing so freely. Smiling so widely.

You’re alive.

Xavier scrambles upright, leaning forward to see the screen more clearly.

It’s you — in clothes he’s never seen you wear, in a room he’s never seen before, with a face he barely remembers.

But he knows it’s you. 

How could he ever forget? Not truly.

So desperately, he calls out. Announcing himself, finally reaching out.

Your eyes perk in surprise as you lean in.

“Holy shit, did he just say my name? That’s crazy!” you giggle, and Xavier is too overcome with emotion to even question the absurdity of your words.

“No wonder people were glazing this game on Twitter!” you laugh before the call cuts.

Xavier’s too stunned to react. He taps rapidly through his phone to check the caller history.

Unknown.

He scrambles to call again.

Anticipation sweating off of him.

He holds his phone tightly and then— You pick up.

Your face: confused.

“Damn, I didn’t even level his affinity up yet and he’s calling already,” you mutter, peering at the screen.

Xavier looks dishevelled, almost destroyed. His hair is a messy heap, and dark circles shadow his eyes. The usual soft glow of his skin— dulled, lifeless.

He’s worn thin. A dead man walking.

“Hey,” Xavier says softly, almost inaudibly.

He watches your face shift — confusion to elation.

“Oh my god, you can even talk! Let me try again.”

And then you speak — not offhand commentary, but to him.

“Hi,” you greet, brightly enough to light up the room.

Xavier is at a loss, and doesn’t reply. But unlike before, you speak again.

“This is so cool. So like, does this count as my daily interaction?” you ask aloud, maybe to yourself, maybe to him— he can’t tell.

“Right, probably not in his programming to answer questions like that,” you mumble, before turning your full attention back to him.

“I’ll see you soon, alright? I hope this mechanic isn’t a glitch.” You grin softly.

And nothing in Xavier’s entire career could’ve prepared him for this.

But he’s not letting this opportunity go. Not when he has another chance to hear you, to see you — and even if he can’t touch you, he’ll never let go.

He’s not letting you slip.

Not now. Not ever. Not again.

“All right... I’ll see you soon,” Xavier replies simply.

Watching your face glow is enough for him.

The way your lips stretch, teeth bare — a face full of life.

Here, he decides: he’ll wait as long as you need.

As long as you want.

He’ll wait until the phone screen glows once again. He’ll wait to see you again.

Close enough to hear you. To see you. But never touch you.

…

ACT VI: ECHO

“Hi Xavier”

synopsis: ni'ki's been losing his clothes; wonder who the culprit is??

tags: bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship, crack, humour, no mention of "y/n" (ni-ki calls you sweet girl because thats a nickname ive been hyperfixating on!)

warning: none

wordcount: 1.4k

likes + comments appreciated

authors note: LOL SORRY FOR DIPPING FOR AWHILE! but i was insanely inspired… while in the train so i wrote this little scenario!! enjoy! inspired by this sakusa fic! check it out and support this author!!! enjoy!!!

Ni-ki, in all his teen-hood, would have never guessed that he'd find himself in this predicament.

After a long day of work, Ni-ki expected to come home to see you for your bi-weekly sleepover. He had been anticipating this moment since the second he awoke early that morning. Sending his obligatory “morning stink” text, waiting for some feral response from you (it was a photo of his own feet, in which he wonders when you took them). Making a mental itinerary of what the two of you would be doing that night; take out, a movie, face masks, gossip, make out (if the cards were in his favour).

But he wouldn’t have guessed catching you mid sneak out his room, dressed in his hoodie, sweatpants, somehow mismatched socks (did you pull out him apart??) and slides— all his. As if getting caught red handed (you were), you straighten up, humouring the idea that your full height would rival his 6 foot thousand stature.

“What're you doing?” Ni-ki interrogates, eyebrow raised skeptically as fixes his stance to block the hallway. “Nothing! I wasn't doing anything, my Ni-ki tingle went off and i wanted to surprise you” you chirp, clearly acting suspicious, as you skip towards him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“I missed you!!’ you squeeze and gently rock side to side, and Ni-ki can't help but relax in your hold, embracing you gently back. “Me too, Sweet girl” he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Too lost in the moment, Ni-ki doesnt realise that your rocking was clearly deliberate, slowly maneuvering the two of you around so that he was on the inner facing side of the hallway and you had easy access out the hallway.

Ni-ki doesn’t realise this move until you pull away, faux innocence plastered on your face in which he clocks almost immediately.

To anyone else, Ni-ki’s grasps onto your biceps seem caring and gentle, but to the keen eye; the glint in his eye says otherwise, as does the whitening of his knuckles.

“My room's this way” Ni-ki says, and it sounds more like a command than a statement. You laugh, but there’s no humour in your tone, as you try to pull away. “Just wanna get some snacks from my car. You know, before they go bad.” you try your best to excuse but Ni-ki, being your loving boyfriend, can read right through you.

“We have plenty here in the dorms”

“Not the ones i got”

“Your favourite ones are here”

“They're not my favourites anymore”

You and Ni-ki battle it out, with an intense staring contest, waiting for the other to react first.

“Why are you having a standoff in the hallway” Suddenly, Jake’s voice breaks the tension between the two, as does it snap Ni-ki’s attention which is just enough time for you to dash away towards the door.

Curse you, Jake!

Ni-ki chases you like Tom the cat, but clearly you’re a very good Jerry because you seem to evade him easily.

“Come back you thief!” You and Ni-ki are rounding the table. “I won’t stand for these silly allegations!” you take a step to the right only for Ni-ki to mirror and block you.

“Everytime you walk out with my clothes i never see them again!”

“Well these are mine! so you won’t see them regardless”

“THEY DON'T EVEN FIT YOU!” Ni-ki exasperates and your facade falls apart as you immediately confess, “OKAY? SO WHAT!”

Your lips stretch into a mischievous smile as Ni-ki chuckles at your statement, “So I want my clothes to stay with me” he states as he reaches over to grasp you, Only for you to take a step back.

“You love your clothes more than me!” you accuse, “yeah, I do!” he counters and you gasp, offended.

How dare he!

“Take that back!” you whine, and he can envision you stamping your foot into the ground.

“No way! give my clothes back!”

“Do you want me to walk around naked?!”

“I’m not opposed to the idea”

“Who cares! i look better in them anyways” you declare, angrily huffing.

Obviously, Ni-ki agrees, you look cute in everything you wear, be it a garbage bag to a fancy dress, especially if it’s his clothes. but it’s about the principle!!

“You have your own clothes!”

“Your clothes always look better than mine!”

“Of course they do, I have better style”

You audibly scoff at this, which sets your defences down for a split second but that was enough for Ni-ki to catch you. He steps around the table and reaches out with his long eagle-wingspan he calls his arms and wraps them around your torso, picking you up like a sack of potatoes.

You relent, giggles filling the room as you slump over his shoulder as if you lost all your bones in your body. Ni-ki’s heart fills with so much euphoria listening to you laugh that he almost forgets about the little thief he calls a girlfriend.

Ni-ki huffs as he starts to walk back to his bedroom, not missing the judging eyes of his group mates as he walks by, probably wondering what the heck was going on.

As he opens the door to his room, Ni-ki speaks up, breaking the silence, “you do look better”.

You perk up, all your bones coming back to your body, “huh?”

Unceremoniously, Ni-ki drops you into his bed, frazzling you a bit. “In my clothes, you do look better” he elaborates as he crawls on top of you, settling his head on your sternum.

you let out a soft giggle and he can feel your chest vibrate softly from it, “I think you’d look better in my clothes as well”. Ni-ki pulls away from your chest, just to stare incredulously into your eyes that hold nothing but mischievous. Wrapping his arms around your body he squeezes lightly and sighs.

“Whatever” he relents, but Ni-ki can’t help but grin widely like the silly loverboy he is.

epilouge

“i didn’t have snacks in my car”

“i know, Sweet girl”

“these are still my favourite”

“i know, go to sleep now”

“you love me more than your clothes, right?”

“i love you more than anything, Sweet girl”

“i love you too, Riks”

synopsis: texting your boyfriend “we need to talk”

tags: ot7 x f!reader (separate), fluff, crack, established relationship

warnings: spelling and grammar errors, not proofread, swearing, kms jokes scattered around, one sex joke in sunghoon

reblogs + comments appreciated

authors note: IVE SAVED THIS UP FOR AWHILE, JUST FINISHED MY EXAMS!! YIPPIE, #enjoy

희승  |  heeseung

rest under cut

3:45pm – nrk

tags: ni-ki x reader (established relationship), fluff, prompt #14: “your cheeks are really soft.” “stop squishing them!”

word count: 0.7k , not proofread, likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

°❀⋆manny's 1k celebration event .ೃ࿔*:･

Ni-ki couldn't think of anything worse. 

At first, he thought today would be the best day ever. He had a day off that coincided with your free time, his members all were out for the day and so, today of all days, a once in a blue moon occurrence, you two had the house to yourselves. 

And yet, here you were, sitting at the end of his couch, laptop on your lap, typing away on an assignment that's not due for another month. 

Ni-ki found himself situated close to you, rubbing closely against your side, feeling your arms move as your fingers glide against your keyboard. He was able to subdue his itching need for your attention with a mindless game of fifa. 

And then he played 2 games. And then 3. And then– 

His hand reaches over like a cat, and he keyboard smashes across your document. 

“What the flip, Riks” you gasp incredulously, your head whipping to face your boyfriend. Your eyebrows knit together in that cute way that Ni-ki just adores. 

He thinks everything you do is cute, if he was being honest. The way you look furious when you focus on your silly assignments, the way your expression relaxes when you simultaneously swipe the tab to start reading a new boy's love you've come across, the way you absolutely rage when he decides to annoy the living hell out of you. 

A mischievous grin slips onto his face, one that means nothing but trouble. 

“Hey, no- what are you thinking… actually the fact that you are thinking right now is concerning enough” 

“Can you go a day without bullying me”

You let out the most ear soothing laugh, the melody of giggles slips out and settles in his bones. 

Instincetly, Ni-ki relaxes, dropping his head down to the side of the couch. You maneuver a bit, shifting to accommodate his resting head, making sure to throw a suspicious eyebrow his way. 

“You’re boring me” Ni-ki states, knocking his knee into yours. 

You roll your eyes, and let out a life-too-exhausting sigh which seems to make him feel all too satisfied– just not enough. Even when you shut your laptop, and half haphazardly place it on the coffee table, and lean your head back and into the couch, Ni-ki is still not satisfied. 

“Pay attention to me” He whines, as you turn to lock eyes. 

You roll your eyes again, maybe for the nth-teen time.

You take his hand into yours, and squeeze gently. 

“Baby”

Niki smirks, squeezing back. 

“No, i'm calling you a baby” you tease, which pulls an offended look right onto your lover’s face. 

In retaliation, or maybe retribution, his mile long hand finds home amongst your face. The expanses cover your features entirely, and the gently squish of your cheeks only annoys you more. 

One slap and you're off into another stratosphere. 

You choose not to move, only following the gentle manhandling of your boyfriend as he grips your face and shakes it like a magic 8-ball. 

He attempts to shake your sass out of you, but you seem to not mind. Only after a solid 5 seconds of annoying you, Ni-ki’s hand travels down to cup your between his thumb and forefingers. 

And squeezes. 

And squeezes again.

And now he's pulled his other hand from your hold to play with your cheeks like a little dough ball. 

“your cheeks are really soft.” Ni-ki says, in a tone between bewilderment and adoration. As if he doesn't spend half his time with you glued to your side, finding new ways to crawl under your skin.

At this point, you can feel your cheeks becoming sore, and you're sure they're red now and not because you're flustered by the proximity of you too.

 “stop squishing them!” you finally swat his hand away. 

Again with the offended look on his face. 

“My girlfriend hates me core” He fake sobs, and you push him down the couch with a hard shove. 

“You idiot!”

“This would totally go viral if i made a tiktok” 

“Stop hypothetically incriminating me!” 

Before you can retaliate even further, Ni-ki pulls you down onto him, settling you on top of his chest for a change. 

“Only if you let me squish your cheeks”

“After a nap I suppose” 

it’s the quiet moments, he thinks, that he loves the most.

Of course, he loves your personality, your many quirks and several qualities. He loves the way your presence fills the room, how it consumes and leaves nothing but you in its wake.

the way your laughter, ever enchanting, spreads through him, how it sends him into a silence that no one can bring him out of.

you’re so captivating, so loveable, so unapologetically

you.

the most you that you can be, and he wishes nothing less (or more) from you, because all he wants is you.

In the dead of night, away from the troubles, away from the worries. away from the world.

where it’s just you and him. your hand caressing his jaw, so gently, as it glides to follow his sharp line.

it travels up and to his ear, then to his cheek.

He leans into your touch like he doesn’t know what else to do; like it’s the only thing he knows.

he tilts his head and kisses your wrist.

He can feel the patter of your heart against his. how it beats so loudly. how he can hear it, the silence, you’ve talked about.

when he takes your hand between his, and let your presence envelope him.

he just listens. like you always do.

he yearns for silence the same way he yearns for your loudness.

because ultimately, he yearns for you.

“i love you”

i love you i love you i love you i love you

you cock your eyebrow to the sudden declaration. Though, you hold back a snarky remark when you take in the way he’s looking at you, like he had a million things to say, and not enough words to say it with.

So you lean in, a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips and he can feel your lips twitch into a smile.

“i love you too”

so maybe he was lying when he said that he loved the quiet moments the most, because as you lay underneath him, with a smile on your face, staring into his eyes like he’s the only person in the world, like he’s the only person that matters, he thinks about how much he just loves you.

and just being with you is enough.

we love men who yearn

⤷ NI-KI, Jungwon, Sunoo, SUNGHOON, Jake, Jay, Heeseung, myung jaehyun, HYUNJIN, felix, beomgyu, soobin, your faves

synopsis: things your Enhypen boyfriend does

tags: bf!ot7 x f!reader, crack/ humour

warning: none

word count: n/a

likes + comments appreciated

author's note: Thank you for 1k followers! i know i don't actively post on here because its a hobby account but i seriously am so grateful for for all the support!!

#°❀⋆manny's 1k celebration event .ೃ࿔*:･

희승 | heeseung

- has toxic league humour running in his veins

- don’t let his cool sexy hot guy persona fool you

- one time you caught him on YOUR twitter account OLBITERATING his own haters

- lich got you banned on twitter for saying kys your mums a hoe!

- thank god he doesn’t know how to dox or else he’d abuse that shit out of that ability

synopsis: Ni-ki's girlfriend just came back from war

tags: bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship, crack/ humour, no mention of "y/n", twitter war based on irl event (my own irl event)

warning: none

word count: 0.5k+

likes + comments appreciated

authors note: Wait why am i on a writing streak?? its because my tim drake oneshots on my alt account is flopping and im lowk mad af (shameless plug lol) so im just writing to make a feel better, and this oneshot is lowk so cute and funny.

The tranquility of Ni-ki’s room is nice. Your boyfriend lies comfortably on top of you, head resting in his well-worn area—your chest— as his feet dangle off the foot of his bed. 

“And then I tweeted back a deez nutz joke that seriously set off OP because then they just started spamming me with a bunch of numbers an— wait, did I get doxxed?”

You pause for a moment and furrow your eyebrows in thought. 

“Nah, no way. Anyways, I ignored their tweet, obviously, and kept sending them Hilson fan art because I checked their bio and guess what?”

You wait for Ni-ki’s reply, hand finding home at the back of his head, combing through his hair gently. 

A moment passes. 

“Riks, are you asleep?”

Your hand pulls away, which instantly pulls your boyfriend out of dreamland as he chases your hand, “Hey, why’d you stop?”

“You whore! You weren’t even listening to my story!” 

“Was too!”

You give him an incredulous look, an eyebrow raised expectantly: “What was I talking about?”

There’s a beat of silence before Ni-ki pulls his head away from your chest to look you straight in the eye, as if he were ready to answer. 

But nothing comes out. 

“I knew it!!” You gasp, offended, pinching his side, making him whine like a baby. “I’m sorry! You just get into so many Twitter wars, it’s hard to keep track!” Ni-ki justifies as he takes your wrist in his hold and pulls your pincers away. 

“I only do it in your honour! They were totally flaming you.”

“You flame me.”

“Yeah, but I make up for it by letting you sleep on my tits.”

“True that.” 

You sigh dramatically, returning your hand back to his hair, massaging gently—to Ni-ki’s satisfaction. “Now that you’re awake, I’ll continue,” you declare, and your boyfriend nuzzles his head back into your chest comfortably. 

“Please continue.” 

“They're homophobic!” You gasp, acting like you just found out.

“They’re homophobic!” Ni-ki mimics, adding his own boyish flare. 

“I know, right? Can’t believe it, but I mean, they’re a hater for a reason.” 

You continue your story about how your day in (Twitter) war, claiming that you are his “strongest soldier” and that the trenches never get any better as the days go by. 

“Seems like you had a tough day, Sweet girl,” Ni-ki says soothingly, and you feel his deep voice rumble in your chest. “I really did,” you sigh dramatically, which makes him chuckle. 

“Do you want a reward for your efforts?” He offers, as he lifts his head off your chest again. “Obviously, I don't do this because I have altruistic intentions.” you humour, tilting your head a bit.

“I don’t even know what altruistic means.”

“Just give me the reward.”

Ni-ki rolls his eyes, shifting his body closer to your face. He lifts his arms from your sides, using them to hold your face gently. 

He reels you in, and places a gentle kiss on your lips. 

Then he pulls away. 

“That’s it?”

“And you call me the greedy one.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as push your hand– the one that was leisurely playing with his hair– and pull him into another, longer kiss. 

This boy

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

epilogue

You finally settled down from your rant, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

“Wait, were you actually doxxed?”

“Go to sleep, Duckie.”

“Sweet girl, Did you get doxxed?”

“Shhhhh.”