NEVER NOT BABY ✨
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ about: To FELIX, being younger means you're automatically baby — no matter how many times you try to prove otherwise
YOUNGER GIRLFRIEND SERIES MASTERLIST
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🐥 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
It started with the cereal box.
You were standing on your tiptoes, arm stretched to its limit, fingers just grazing the edge of the top shelf. Determination burned in your chest.
You were so close.
Just one good stretch away—
“Aw, baby,” came a voice behind you, warm and unmistakably smug. “Need help?”
You froze, hand still reaching, and sighed before turning around. Felix stood in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed up and sleep still clinging to his eyes. His smile widened the second he saw the guilty look on your face.
“I was fine,” you insisted, even though the cereal box was still stubbornly out of reach.
He padded over barefoot, wordlessly plucked the box off the shelf, and held it out to you like a peace offering. You took it with a huff.
“Y’know,” he added, teasing lacing his tone like honey, “I leave the kitchen for five minutes and you’re already trying to prove you don’t need me.”
“Because I don’t,” you shot back, even though you were already pouring yourself a bowl like nothing had happened. “I can reach it on my own. Eventually.”
Felix leaned against the counter, watching you with those galaxy eyes of his — the ones that made it hard to stay mad, no matter how annoying he was being.
“But you don’t have to. That’s the point.”
“That I should let you do things for me?”
“That you’re baby,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “My baby.”
You rolled your eyes, but the way your cheeks warmed didn’t go unnoticed.
“Felix—” He cut you off, voice dipping into that raspy, affectionate tone that always made your heart trip,
“Doesn’t matter how old you are. You’re younger. That makes you baby. End of story.”
You wanted to argue. You really did.
But then he stepped closer, dropped a kiss to your forehead, and wrapped his arms around you from behind like a human blanket.
You didn’t protest the hug. Not really.
Maybe you melted into it a little. Maybe you leaned back just enough for your head to rest on his chest. And maybe your fingers found his, even as you muttered under your breath, “Still not a baby.”
“Hey… you know you don’t have to prove anything to me, right?”
The question was quiet, barely more than a murmur. But it hit harder than anything he’d said all morning.
You blinked, caught off guard.
“I mean,” he went on, gently, “you act like I’m gonna stop seeing you a certain way if you don’t keep showing me how capable you are. Like I’d think less of you or something.”
You didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was… he wasn’t wrong.
You weren’t used to being taken care of. You were used to being the strong one — or at least pretending to be. The one who didn’t ask for help. Who handled her own stuff.
Who didn’t need anyone.
But Felix made that hard.
He was so gentle with you it was disarming. So quick to notice the little things — when you were tired, when you were stressed, when you needed to breathe. He never made you feel weak.
Just… loved.
And maybe that was scarier than anything else.
“I just don’t want to be the fragile one,” you said quietly, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t want you to think I can’t handle things.”
You felt him squeeze your hands, grounding.
“Babe,” he said, voice low and sincere, “being taken care of doesn’t make you fragile. It makes you human. You take care of me all the time — maybe not by grabbing stuff off high shelves,” he added with a soft chuckle, “but in ways that matter even more.”
You turned to face him then, arms still looped around each other. His eyes searched yours, and you saw the honesty in them — warm, steady, unwavering.
“You don’t have to be less soft to be strong,” he said. “You don’t have to stop being baby to be enough.”
That did it.
The lump in your throat formed before you could stop it. You looked away, blinking fast, but Felix was already pulling you closer, tucking you into his hoodie like he was trying to shield you from the whole world.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair. “Always.”
You let yourself stay there a while. In his arms. In his hoodie.
In the quiet understanding of someone who didn’t need you to prove anything.
And when you finally whispered back, “Okay… maybe I don’t mind being baby sometimes,”
Felix just smiled, kissed the top of your head again, and said,
“Knew it.”
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The entire Stray Kids lineup was packed into a neon-lit arcade like it was some kind of mission briefing, each of them dead-set on avoiding defeat like their lives depended on it.
Felix had you tucked under one arm, steering you toward the claw machines while Chan, Changbin, and Seungmin were already arguing over the air hockey table.
“Do you want the capybara or the frog?” he asked, squinting at the stuffed animals inside the glass case like this was a military operation.
“You don’t have to win me anything—”
Felix looked personally offended. “Excuse you. I’m contractually obligated to win you something every time we go to an arcade.”
You laughed. “By who?”
“By love,” he said dramatically, already slotting coins into the machine.
You leaned against him, watching as he carefully maneuvered the claw — tongue poking out slightly in concentration, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
And then—
Clank.
The claw dropped the plush just before the chute.
“Aw, baby,” came a too-loud voice from behind. “Tried your best.”
You turned to see Han and Lee Know approaching with matching smirks, clearly having witnessed the whole thing.
“Don’t ‘aw, baby’ me,” Felix said, straightening up. “I’m doing this for her.”
Han raised a brow. “Right, right — you, the actual baby of the group, playing dad now.”
Felix looked unbothered. “I contain multitudes.”
Minho nudged you playfully. “You okay, Y/N? Is he feeding you snacks? Keeping you hydrated? Letting you nap between activities?”
You grinned. “He actually did bring an extra water bottle just for me.”
“See?” Felix said proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Taking care of my girl.”
Changbin wandered over mid-sentence, catching just enough to join in with a mischievous grin. “Isn’t this the same guy who cried during Finding Nemo last week?”
Felix blinked. “You were crying too!”
“I was moved! That’s different!”
Jeongin chimed in from the other side of the arcade. “Felix, do you want your milk in the blue or green sippy cup today?”
Now everyone was laughing — even you, though you tried (and failed) to hide it behind your hand.
Felix turned to you, mock-offended. “Are you seriously laughing with them?”
“I mean…” you giggled, “you are kind of getting roasted, baby.”
His jaw dropped, scandalized.
You gave him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re my baby.”
The other boys howled.
“WHIPPED!” Seungmin shouted.
“Absolutely destroyed,” said Minho, fake wiping a tear. “Can’t even be mad. That was smooth.”
Felix just smiled, unbothered, clearly too content with your attention to care. He tightened his grip around your waist and whispered, “I’m still gonna win you that plush.”
“You don’t have to,” you murmured.
“Too late,” he smirked. “My pride’s on the line.”
And sure enough, twenty minutes later, he was triumphantly handing you a very squishy, slightly lopsided stuffed frog — his face glowing with victory while the rest of the boys dramatically bowed to his claw machine skills.
“Who’s baby now?” he asked, smug.
“Still you,” Jeongin replied.
But that didn’t matter.
Because Felix had one arm around your shoulders, your laugh in his ears, and a frog plush in your hands — and honestly? That was more than enough for him.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
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