girldad!lee felix (stray kids) x reader — headcannons
GENRE: domestic, pure fluff, realism, soft chaos, emotional dad moments, gentle parenting.
WARNINGS: pure fluff, mentions of exhaustion, baby crying, Felix being sensitive, realistic parenting
SYNOPSIS: Felix as a first‑time dad: warm, emotional, and completely devoted to your little family.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: ik most of my other one's r like them as js dad's but I didn't want chan to be the only one as a girl dad! sooo here's felix as one cs i'd feel like it suits him more.. enjoyyyaaaa! xoxo ola
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Characters are based on public personas only. Nothing here reflects real-life relationships or behavior. Please do not repost, translate, or copy my work to other platforms. Reblogs & comments are appreciated but not needed ofc!.
MASTERLIST
Felix is already emotional during the pregnancy, but when he finds out it’s a girl? He breaks. Hands over his mouth, eyes full of stars. He whispers,
“another princess…”
like he’s already imagining her whole life.
When she’s born, he cries instantly, soft, overwhelmed tears. He holds her gently and brushes her cheek with his thumb.
Whispers, “hi angel… daddy’s here…”
He has so many nicknames for her: “princess,” “little star,” “my tiny love,” “sunshine girl,” "mommy's mini me."
He is SO gentle with her. Supports her head perfectly. Moves slowly. Talks softly. He’s terrified of being too rough.
He’s obsessed with her tiny features. Her eyelashes. Her fingers. Her pout. He’ll stare at her for ten minutes straight and then go,
“she looks like a fairy… she’s literally magical…”
He’s the dad who talks to her like she’s a grown woman.
“You had a long day, huh?”
“I know, your mom is stressful.”
“She’s three days old, Felix.”
“Exactly.”
He’s also the dad who panics over the wrong things.
She hiccups?
“She’s fighting for her life.”
She is not.
She sneezes?
“OH— she’s cold. She needs a blanket. No, two blankets.”
She does not...
She yawns?
“She’s exhausted. She works too hard.”
She does nothing.
He loves dressing her in soft, cozy, pastel things. He holds up a tiny onesie like,
“this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He says that about every outfit.
He babywears constantly.
She’s strapped to his chest like a little koala.
He does chores with her.
Bakes with her.
Plays games with her.
Talks to her like she’s his tiny best friend.
The moment Felix tells Rachel and Olivia he’s having a daughter, they SCREAM.
They immediately start planning her entire life. Clothes. Hair accessories. Books. Toys. They send him links at 3AM.
When they meet her for the first time, they both cry.
Rachel holds her and whispers,
“Lix… she’s perfect…”
Olivia goes,
“She has your nose, oh my god.”
Felix is already crying too.
Then the teasing begins.
“Remember when you couldn’t even braid hair?”
“I CAN braid now.”
“Barely.”
“I CAN DO A THREE‑STRAND.”
They fight over who gets to hold her.
Felix hovers like a stressed golden retriever.
“Support her head… be gentle… don’t hurt her please I can't wait another 9 months…”
“Felix. We know how to handle babies. Relax.”
They spoil her endlessly. They spoil YOU endlessly. They spoil Felix by telling him he’s doing amazing.
And it's true, he cares so much for his daughter. She basically has him wrapped around her tiny finger.
tagged: @ellemir2404, @niku0704 | TYSM FOR READING TWINSOOOO
I was wondering if you could do a F 9th member comfort story? The 9th member losing a loved one; where she finds out over the phone during practice or an outing. And the boys comfort her and support her through her grief.
When the Music Paused - Stray Kids x Fem!Reader
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Found Family
Warning: Grief, loss of a loved one (illness), emotional breakdown, mentions of terminal illness
Summary: You've always danced with purpose to honor the person who first believed in your dream. But when the loss you've feared finally arrives, you're not alone. Your members hold you together when everything else falls apart.
Your grandmother was the first person who ever told you that your voice was meant for more than quiet living rooms and late-night karaoke.
She wasn’t loud or famous. She didn’t sing herself. But she listened, really listened like every note you sang was magic. When you were a kid, she used to say, “Promise me you’ll keep chasing that dream, even when it’s hard. Especially then.”
And you did.
Even when the world told you no.
Even when training pushed your body past its limits.
Even when you found yourself in a room with eight boys, all bursting with talent, wondering if there was still space for you.
But it was her voice gentle, steady, always proud that kept you grounded.
So when she got sick, you were the first one to call every night. When chemo made her too weak to speak, you texted long updates after practice. You sent voice notes from the studio. She always replied with little hearts and “So proud of you, my little star.”
Then… the replies slowed.
“She’s resting a lot more now,” your cousin explained on the phone two weeks ago. “But she still plays your songs when she’s awake.”
You wanted to go see her. But your comeback was around the corner, and the last thing she said before she stopped calling was:
“Don’t stop for me. You’re already making me proud.”
So you kept going.
You pushed harder. Danced sharper. Sang longer.
Because if she had limited time, you wanted to make sure she saw you shining before she left.
You never thought the moment would come when she wouldn’t be there to see it.
It was a regular practice day. Sweaty, loud, exhausting.
Han was goofing off during the cooldown stretches, Hyunjin pretending to be annoyed while hiding a grin. Minho was unusually focused probably because he had a bet going with Jeongin about who would mess up first during recording. Changbin is busy talking how he absolutely nailing his leg days. Felix handed you your water bottle like always, his smile calm and grounding.
And for a moment, things felt normal.
Your phone buzzed. You ignored it at first, expecting a delivery update or maybe a company group text. But then it buzzed again. And again.
You checked the screen.
Three missed calls from your cousin.
Then a message:
"Please call me. It’s about Halmoni."
Your stomach dropped.
Without a word, you stepped out into the hallway, fingers trembling as you pressed the call button. The ringtone barely rang once.
“Hello?”
There was a shaky breath on the other end. you keep on waiting for the words to come but it nearly 5 minutes later when-
“She’s gone.”
The world cracked.
You didn’t hear the rest, something about how peaceful it was, how she waited until everyone left the room like she didn’t want to be watched. All you could hear was your own heart pounding, and a sound you didn’t recognize at first.
A sob. Yours.
Your phone slipped from your hand, clattering to the ground. You slumped against the studio wall, curling in on yourself like maybe if you got small enough, the pain wouldn’t find you.
Inside, the boys were chatting lightly while cooling down when Seungmin looked toward the door.
“She’s been out there for a while.”
Felix was already walking toward it. “I’ll check—”
He stopped short as he opened the door.
You were sitting on the floor, unmoving, arms wrapped around yourself, your chest rising in silent heaves. Your phone lay face-down nearby.
“Hyung—!” Felix’s voice cracked as he turned back toward the others.
The rest of them rushed out.
Minho was the first to kneel next to you, slowly, not touching yet. “Y/N?” His voice was gentle.
You couldn’t answer.
Chan crouched next, eyes scanning your face. “Talk to us. What happened?”
It took every ounce of breath to speak. You barely recognized your own voice. Your hand is shaky, your eyes is blurry, you feel like you on the edge of throwing up.
“Sh...She’s gone...."
They look at you in confused before Hyunjin slowly hold onto your shoulder, letting him looking at your soaking-wet face.
"Hey, take a deep breath. Slowly. Who's gone, Y/Nnie?"
You take a deep breath even though it feels like there's a deep nails and screws inside your lungs. Your bloodshot eyes looking at him with tears falling like a flood.
"My.... grandmother.”
Silence. Thick and heavy.
Then you fell forward, and Hyunjin caught you.
You sobbed into his chest, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. His arms held you like he’d never let go. You felt someone kneel beside you, Changbin. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, warm and steady, like a human anchor.
Felix was on your other side, whispering, “It’s okay, cry, we’re here,” over and over like a mantra.
Seungmin gently picked up your phone and placed it in your bag. Jeongin stood behind, biting his lip hard, eyes glassy.
Chan stayed crouched, watching it all, his face unreadable. Then he stood, clapped his hands once, and said firmly, “Practice is over. We’re going home.”
You shook your head, panic cutting through the fog. “I—I don’t want to go back to the dorm—”
“Not the dorm,” Chan said softly. “Home. My place. We’ll go together. You’re not being alone tonight.”
---
They brought you to Chan’s apartment.
It was quiet, safe. The kind of silence that didn’t demand anything of you.
Minho tucked you into the couch with a blanket before you even had to ask. Jeongin brought you a hoodie, his own when you started shivering. Felix sat on the floor in front of you, hands resting gently on your knees, grounding you.
No one rushed you. No one filled the space with empty words.
When you started crying again, you tried to apologize.
Han shook his head and hugged you tighter. “Don’t. Please don’t. You don’t have to be okay.”
If only not, it sounds like he's also in a deep sorrow like you as if he can feel the pain of losing someone. Which he did.
Bang Chan brought you warm tea, sitting nearby like a quiet guardian. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft but firm.
“You don’t have to talk now. But we’re not going anywhere. Sleep here. Stay as long as you want. Take all the time you need.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. But you nodded.
And when you finally fell asleep, it was with your head resting on someone’s shoulder, the others nearby like a wall holding you up.
The next morning, you didn’t eat much.
You tried. But the moment food touched your lips, your throat closed up. It felt wrong to be hungry. To be normal.
They didn’t force you. Minho just left a plate nearby. Seungmin sat beside you, talking softly about a cat video he’d seen. Not loud enough to demand your laughter but just enough to remind you that the world still had small, warm things.
Later that afternoon, you found a note on the table in Felix’s handwriting:
“You don’t have to shine every day. But even stars need rest to keep glowing. We’ll wait for you.”
You cried again.
But this time, it didn’t feel like shattering.
It felt like healing.
A few days later, you found yourself sitting in the corner of the practice studio.
You weren’t ready to join. But you watched.
Han flailed dramatically during warm-up. Minho rolled his eyes but smiled. Jeongin made a goofy face at you. Seungmin looked over his shoulder and nodded toward the empty spot next to him.
“Come on,” he mouthed.
You hesitated. Then Chan offered his hand.
You stood.
The music started again. You weren’t perfect, actually far from it. You missed steps. Forgot moves.
But the boys adjusted their pace to you. They laughed when you tripped. Cheered when you hit a move right.
Summary: When a sudden thunderstorm traps you and Felix inside, he turns a gloomy night into the cosiest evening ever. Between hilarious kitchen mishaps, candlelit blanket forts, and a specially curated playlist, the storm outside fades away, replaced by laughter, warmth, and the quiet magic of simply being together.
It started with a low, lazy growl from the sky, the kind that settles in your bones and makes you pause without knowing why. You were standing at your apartment window, mug nestled between your palms, watching as the sky faded from steel-blue to the bruised grey of an incoming storm.
There was something oddly comforting about it. The way the world slowed just before the rain came. The silence between thunderclaps, as if the city was holding its breath.
Then came the sharp ping ping ping of fat raindrops against your window, followed by a steady drumming that quickly became a downpour. You sighed, rubbing your thumb along the rim of your mug. Of course the storm would hit right as you’d started settling into a quiet night alone.
Your phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Felix 🐥: is the storm bad over there?
Felix 🐥: wait nvm i’m on my way
You furrowed your brow. What?
Before you could type a response, there was a knock at the door, firm, insistent, familiar. When you opened it, Felix stood there grinning like the rain wasn’t soaking through the hood of his thin jacket. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and his hair stuck to his forehead in damp curls. In one hand he held a tote bag stuffed full of what looked like groceries. In the other, a closed umbrella that had clearly been abandoned in favour of speed.
“You’re completely soaked,” you said, half amused, half horrified.
Felix just shrugged, stepping inside without hesitation. “Worth it. Your apartment’s got the best windows for storm watching, and I was not about to ride this one out in my shoebox of a place.”
You tried to scowl at him but failed, your lips tugging upward into a smile. He had that effect, chaotic sunshine wrapped in soft boy energy. “So you just… invited yourself over?”
“Technically I warned you,” he said brightly, slipping out of his shoes with a soggy squish. “Also, I brought food. That counts as a formal offering.”
He held up the tote bag like a trophy. A bunch of instant ramen packs poked out the top, along with what appeared to be a mismatched bundle of vegetables and… was that a bottle of wine with a cartoon lizard on the label?
“Oh my god,” you groaned. “That wine is going to taste like regret.”
“Regret with notes of raspberry,” Felix declared proudly.
Thunder rumbled again, closer this time, and a flicker of lightning briefly lit the apartment in white-blue light. You glanced toward the window, where rain now poured in sheets, streaming down the glass like melting ice.
“Well, you’re not going back out in that,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.
Felix flopped onto your couch without invitation, already unzipping his jacket and grabbing one of the throw blankets off the backrest. “Didn’t plan to. I’ve claimed this apartment in the name of storm snacks and poorly cooked dinner.”
You raised a brow. “You do remember the last time you cooked here, right? The microwave fire?”
“That was a learning experience.”
“You put foil in the microwave.”
He pointed at you dramatically. “Learning. Experience.”
You shook your head, but the warmth blooming in your chest betrayed you. His presence made everything softer. The room, the rain, your mood. Even the storm outside felt like background music now, part of the ambiance.
“Alright,” you said with a sigh, plucking the tote from his lap. “But if you set anything on fire again, you’re eating plain cereal while I call the fire department.”
“Deal,” he grinned. “As long as it’s the cinnamon one.”
The lights flickered just then, a brief stutter in the cosy glow of the lamps. You and Felix both froze, glancing upward.
“…That’s fine,” he said quickly. “Totally fine. Romantic, even. Candles. Vibes.”
You snorted. “We’re not even dating.”
He gave you a small, unreadable smile as he stood, brushing his damp curls back. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have good lighting.”
Your breath caught at the casual softness of it, but before you could respond, he was already heading toward your kitchen like he owned it, opening cabinets, talking to himself about the best way to "elevate" cup noodles. His damp socks squeaked faintly on the tile.
The storm raged on outside, but inside your apartment, with Felix humming off-key to himself and clattering through your cookware, it felt like the eye of it, warm, calm, and just a little bit magic.
You didn’t expect him to be so determined about cooking.
Felix had barely finished towelling off his hair before he was rolling up the sleeves of his soft, oversized hoodie and dramatically announcing, “Tonight, we feast.”
You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “On…?”
“On the finest instant noodles this side of the Pacific,” he declared, pulling open your pantry like he was opening a treasure chest. “But with flair.”
Despite yourself, you grinned and slid up to lean against the counter, watching him rummage through cabinets with the enthusiasm of a child playing house. He gathered ingredients like he was preparing for battle, ramen packets, sesame oil, green onions, eggs, leftover vegetables from the fridge that were questionably fresh but still usable if you squinted. Along with the bag of random convenience store tat he had procured on the way over.
“I feel like this is going to end in a smoke alarm,” you said.
Felix wiggled his eyebrows. “It’s not cooking unless something sizzles aggressively.”
You didn’t stop him. Honestly, you liked seeing him like this, carefree, barefoot in your kitchen, moving with that adorable mix of focus and chaos he always carried. The rain outside had gotten louder, steady sheets sliding down the windows, but it only made everything inside feel cosier.
He moved around the kitchen like it was his stage, narrating everything he did like a Food Network host who’d had one too many energy drinks.
“Now, we sauté the vegetables,” he said, tossing them into the pan with a dramatic flair that sent a carrot chunk flying to the floor. “Ignore that.”
“You’ve already been eliminated from Top Chef,” you teased, biting back a laugh.
He gasped, clutching his chest. “Betrayed. In my own kitchen.”
“That’s my kitchen.”
“Our kitchen,” he corrected smoothly, and your breath caught just a little.
The noodles boiled. The vegetables simmered. The eggs somehow made it out perfectly soft-boiled, which he celebrated with a triumphant shout and a spin in place. You clapped mockingly. He bowed.
Then he tasted the broth, and immediately coughed.
“…Okay, okay, it just needs a bit more flavour,” he wheezed, reaching for the soy sauce like a man possessed.
“A bit?” you echoed, watching him pour with the precision of someone guessing wildly.
But even as things spiralled mildly into chaos, with a pot bubbling over, a nearly dropped egg, and Felix flapping a dishtowel at the smoke detector just in case, you were laughing. He was laughing. And the kitchen, messy and filled with steam, had never felt more alive.
Finally, he served the noodles in your two chipped bowls, carefully placing the eggs on top like a proud artist.
You both sat on the floor at the low coffee table, legs tangled under throw blankets, steam rising from your bowls.
“Moment of truth,” Felix said, slurping a noodle.
He paused. You stared.
“It’s…” He blinked. “Actually edible?”
You took a cautious bite. It was salty. A bit too spicy. The vegetables were uneven. But it was warm, and it was made with so much ridiculous, earnest effort that your chest ached a little.
“It’s perfect,” you said, and you meant it.
Felix gave you the sunniest smile in the world, eyes crinkled, dimple deep.
“I am available for private chef bookings,” he said grandly, before spilling a bit of broth on his hoodie.
You burst into giggles, reaching for a napkin. He let you dab at the spot on his sleeve, eyes soft as he watched you fuss.
Outside, thunder rumbled. The lights flickered for just a second. You both froze, then exchanged a look.
“If the power goes out,” he said solemnly, “we’re eating cold noodles by candlelight.”
“And you’re doing the dishes in the dark.”
“I take it back.”
You leaned into him, letting your shoulder rest against his. He was warm. The room smelled like soup and rain and a little bit of chaos.
“I like this,” you murmured, softer now.
Felix tilted his head. “The noodles?”
“Everything.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, the storm reflected in his eyes.
“Me too,” he said.
And the rain kept falling.
By the time the last dish clattered into the drying rack (and Felix dramatically dried his hands like a surgeon preparing for heart surgery), you’d already claimed the living room floor.
Well, conquered it, really.
Blankets were layered over the rug in an uneven but cosy sprawl. Pillows were stolen from every corner of the apartment, arranged in messy piles around a cocooned little centre space. You even propped a sheet between two chairs in an arch overhead, more symbolic than effective, but it added just the right touch of childish charm.
Felix entered the room, took one look, and held a hand to his chest. “Is this… a fort?”
“It’s Blanket HQ,” you said proudly. “We take storm defence very seriously.”
He walked in slow, reverent steps, like he was stepping into sacred space. “This is beautiful. I feel like I should take my shoes off.”
“You are barefoot.”
“Exactly,” he said, crawling in beside you and flopping dramatically onto a pillow. “Respect.”
You laughed and dropped onto your stomach beside him, elbow-to-elbow, both of you watching the glow of the candles you’d scattered around the room. The thunder outside rumbled softly now, less violent and more like a purring presence somewhere beyond the foggy windows.
Felix reached for his phone. “One last thing. A proper storm calls for proper vibes.”
He fiddled with it for a second, and then low, gentle music filtered out, acoustic guitar, soft vocals, maybe a little lo-fi hum beneath it all. Something about it made the whole room feel slower, safer, as if time had crawled under the blanket fort with you and decided to stay a while.
You turned your head on the pillow to look at him. “Did you… make a playlist?”
He shrugged, suddenly shy. “Maybe. Kinda. Been adding songs to it for a bit. I call it ‘Soft Stuff for Cosy Nights.’”
You blinked. “That’s… actually the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He gave you a tiny smile. “I was waiting for the right night to use it.”
And there it was, that warmth in your chest again. That glowing, slow-spreading feeling that had nothing to do with soup or storms or soft lighting.
Just him.
Just Felix.
The silence between you stretched comfortably. He lay back with a sigh, folding one arm behind his head and holding the blanket up with the other so you could scoot closer. Which you did. Obviously.
Your head found his shoulder. His cheek bumped the top of yours.
“This is nice,” you whispered, eyes half-closed.
“Best storm I’ve ever had,” he murmured back.
Another flicker of lightning lit the room in pale gold. Thunder cracked after it, louder this time. The power buzzed for a second. Then, with an almost apologetic click, the lights went out completely.
You tensed.
“…Hey,” Felix said gently.
You opened your eyes.
He was already holding up the candle he'd brought over earlier, lighting the little flame with a practiced hand. The flickering glow made his freckles dance, warm and soft across his cheeks.
“We’ve got light,” he said. “And blanket HQ. And my incredible playlist.”
You smiled, relaxing back into him.
“You forgot the soup,” you teased.
He chuckled low. “Never forget the soup.”
A beat passed. The candle crackled. Rain drummed on the windows. The music swelled gently in the background.
Then Felix leaned down, just enough for his forehead to brush yours.
“I’m really glad I’m here,” he said, voice quieter than the storm.
Your heart fluttered.
“Me too.”
You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t have to.
Wrapped in warmth and blankets and the hum of soft music, the two of you stayed curled together, quiet and close, as the storm rolled on outside, and everything inside stayed perfectly, impossibly peaceful.
You woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through your curtains, the storm finally spent. The air smelled fresh, clean, and a little like rain-dampened earth.
Felix was still there, curled up beside you, blankets tangled around both of you like a soft cocoon.
His arm draped protectively over your waist, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles that hadn’t stopped even in sleep. His breathing was steady, peaceful, and every now and then a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
You reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Hey,” you whispered.
His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with that familiar warm glow.
“Morning,” he murmured.
You smiled back. “So… think you’re up for round two of your ‘gourmet’ cooking tonight?”
He groaned dramatically, but the sparkle in his eyes said yes. “Only if you’re my official taste tester.”
“Deal,” you said, squeezing his hand.
The storm was gone, but the warmth it brought lingered.
It was late in the afternoon, about 4:37, when Felix came home. His eyes were tired and his body language told you that he'd had a long day. Once he locked the front door behind him and let his arms rest at his sides, he slowly stumbles to the couch where you were, and flops down on top of you. He buries his face into your chest, letting out a stressed sigh. "What's wrong, Lixi?" You ask, your voice as soft as silk when you run your hand through his blonde locks.
He lets out a soft grumble into your chest, lifting his head ever so slightly so you can see his eyes. "Long day.." His voice is hoarse and deeper than usual, clearly having had a long day of recording. You nod and sit up, bringing him up with you gently. "We're gonna get you a warm bath and some soup, yeah?" You play with his hair with featherlight touch, looking into his Onyx eyes. He sighs and nods, slowly getting to his feet with your help.
You lead him to your bathroom, gently sitting him down on the edge of the tub and tugging his shirt up. He lifts his arms to allow you to tug it off completely, standing up to remove his sweats and boxers. You gently move him to sit in the tub and run the water warm, plugging the tub and grabbing Felix's favorite bubbles to pour in the bath. He whines at the warmth, pulling his knees to his chest and looking up at you with those big, adorable doe eyes.
You feel your heart melt at the sight, your soft hands scooping up some of the water and rubbing it over his shoulders, massaging them to relieve any pressure or stress. He relaxes under your touch, his shoulders dropping slowly. You lean down and press soft kisses to his jaw, whispering soft praises. "You did so good at work, yeah..? You did so well, my sunshine. So so well." He smiles, eyes closed with a content sigh leaving his nose.
A/N : ̗̀➛ writers please let me know your thoughts on this!! This is my first fic Drabble on tumblr and constructive criticism is highly appreciated!!
An introverted (houseplant) (y/n) with an extroverted Felix who drags (y/n) to all the hole-in-the-wall places he comes across because he knows she enjoys them.
Also, extroverted Felix who never leaves wallflower (y/n) alone at a party.
And most definitely extroverted Felix who understands introverted (y/n) needs space to recharge and leaves are alone for a while but clingy (y/n) finds him and asks for cuddles.
lately you’ve fallen behind in your school work since you haven’t been able to find the will to do it. felix gives you the motivation you need.
pairing: felix x reader
genre: fluff, established relationship
wc: ~1k
a/n: this is my first time writing on here i was just bored & actually in need of motivation so,, if it’s bad pretend it isn’t ✋🏾😭
You sit on the floor of your living room, head buried in your hands, as you sigh for probably the 15th time that hour. Sitting up to stare at your computer screen, with tear streaks on your face, you wonder how you let yourself fall so far behind on your school work. It's 4pm and you have three papers to write by tonight.
After a few moments of sitting in silence, your phone starts to vibrate beside you.
Facetime Video: lixie <3
Drying off your face, you sigh and pick up the phone. “Hello?”
Felix, seemingly on a break at practice telling by the background and the way he was panting. “Annyeong baby- have you been crying?” He pouts with that stupidly cute pout that never fails to make you smile.
“Noo~ what are you up to?” You reply, trying to take the attention off of yourself.
“You look like you’ve been crying. I can tell, you know. You know you can talk to me, right? I'm always here for you.”
“It's nothing, really. Just stressed about school is all.” You start getting a bit choked up. “l just can’t do it anymore, I can’t.” And the tears are back. “I’m sorry, I hate when you see me cry, this is so embarrassing.” You toss the phone onto the couch.
“It’s not nothing, and it’s not embarrassing. Talk to me Y/n,” he pushed.
“What is there to talk about Felix? I’m failing my classes and it’s all my fault because I have no motivation to do any work! I waited ‘till the last minute and now I have 3 essays due tonight and I don’t even know what to write about. I’m stressed as fuck but it’s no ones fault but mine. There’s nothing to talk about.” By the end you’re breathing heavily, watching as Felix frowns. You didn’t mean to yell at him, being in your stressed state had you accidentally letting out your frustrations on him.
“Sorry Lix.”
“Don’t apologize baby. You’re trying your best and that’s all that-”
“I’m not trying, though. That’s the problem. I haven’t done any work for weeks.”
You hear someone in the practice room tell the boys it’s time to get back to practice, so you know you and Felix have to wrap up the call.
“I have to head back but I'll tell you what, how about I come over later? After practice? I’ll bring food and I can try to help with whatever you need, as best I can. How does that sound, hmm?” The offer is tempting, but you don’t want to make Felix come all the way to your apartment and help you do school work when he could be resting. You tell him as much but he wasn't having it.
“You’re not making me do anything, I wanna help. I’ll text you when I'm on the way. I love you~”
“Okay. Love you lix.”
….
At just about 8pm, you’ve managed to finish one paper when there's a knock on your door. Opening it slowly you reveal a beaming Felix bearing food in one hand.
“Hi,” you let out before Felix pulls you into his embrace, his lips pressing against your forehead.
“Hi,” he parrots. “Let me go set this down.” Felix slips off his shoes and walks past you to set the food on the kitchen counter, as you make your way back to the living room. Soon he makes his way towards you, being the cuddle bug he is, he squeezes between you and the couch, back hugging you while resting his chin on your shoulder. He inhaled deeply, feeling comfort with you in his embrace.
“Any progress?” he questions.
“I’ve only done one essay, it was 6 pages. I can’t do this.”
“You can do this, you’ve already done one without my help, I'm so proud of you Y/n. What's next?” he says while rubbing his hands along the sides of your arms.
“The next two are 3 and 4 pages long, that’s another 7 pages in 4 hours and I haven’t even thought of a topic.” Your shoulders slumped and you felt your eyes starting to water again. You look up at the ceiling, determined not to cry in front of Felix again.
“That’s okay, I’ll help you. That’s what I'm here for,” he replies, placing a soft kiss to the junction of your neck. “Let’s get some music going.”
….
After a very long and stressful four hours, with the help of Felix, you were finally able to finish your last two essays. At 11:57, to be exact. You felt like you’ve never felt a bigger weight be lifted off of your shoulders. The two of you had moved to your bed at some point, the floor having started to become uncomfortable after sitting for hours.
As one of Felix’s favorite songs, ‘O’ by Coldplay, which has also become one of your favorites, is playing softly in the background, you closed your laptop for the night, sighing to yourself quietly.
Felix grabs your hand, “You did it! I knew you could, I'm so so proud of you angel.” He praises as you fix your gaze on your entwined fingers.
“Only because you were here,” you look up with tired eyes. “Thank you Lix, really.” Felix cups your face with his free hand, placing soft kisses all over your face, sending you into a fit of giggles.
“That tickles,” you voice, and finally, he presses his lips against yours. It's soft, warm, and just long enough that he could inhale your breath. He pulls away and gives your nose a final peck.
“That was all you Y/n. You just needed a little support, and that’s okay.” He lies down beside you, flicking off the light on your bedside table.
As you lay back into Felix’s chest, you close your eyes, breathing in his scent. It’s calming. You hear him quietly start to sing along to the song, and you relish the moment.
“So fly on, ride through, maybe one day i’ll fly next to you,” are the last words you hear as you finally drift away to sleep.
