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fuck a threesome give me a foursome with bangchan, felix, and changbin

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aren't we? ・l.f.

💿 — felix who truly believes that you were the one who gave him all these freckles in a past life—especially the heart-shaped one.

�� — paring・felix x gn!reader // genres・fluff, established relationships // words・687 // warnings・felix is so sweet and sappy, if you don't like rambles or tooth-rotting fluff than you won't like this

a/n・i just can't let go of the idea that lee felix would find your soul in every lifetime! also i stole this from my short story collection that i'm working to publish because it was felix coded and i also just needed to get something out there for y'all i hope you like it my loves!!!

Felix was the part in your story, always imagined but never written down. 

And in the same way an author takes up a pen, he held his hands before you, and with quiet serenity, he swore—please, unravel your heart before me. I promise, you will never have to fantasize again—without paper or quill, he breathed all your dreams to life.

Even after four years, he continues to do so.

Felix's arms are hot around you, warm hands spread across the small of your back as he pulls you closer to him. He's kissing you, hips spreading your thighs apart from where you sit perched atop the counter's edge. The fudgy scent of brownie batter lingers in the air, wafting from a long-forgotten oven. Felix promised he would pull the brownies out after just one more kiss.

But we both know how well that went.

"Did you forget about the brownies?" Your smile must be contagious, 'cause as soon as it blossoms upon your cheeks, you have already infected him—his spreading bigger and brighter than yours.

"Brownies? What brownies? Were we cooking brownies?" he jokes, thumbs brushing patterns on your exposed back.

In the moment between lifting your gaze to admire his star-struck cheeks and now, you have taken notice of an intriguing-shaped freckle just underneath his lash line, honey-brown and cordate.

Suddenly, you lift a finger to brush the soft skin of his under-eye. First, Felix is confused. Then, as your eyes brighten with both intrigue and awe, he loses any hope of thought at all. A subtle purse in your lips tells him of your deep concentration.

He can't help the amused breath he puffs from his nose.

"What?" he whispers, eyes glazed with admiration.

"You have a heart-shaped freckle." The realization dawns on you with a soft gasp—something so simple, yet so profound. It felt so perfectly Felix.

Mindlessly, he brings his hand up to touch the mark. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"You know, your past lover must have adored your cheeks."

His fingers never cease their exploration upon your bare back. "Do you adore my cheeks?"

You let out an involuntary laugh. "Well, of course I do, but we aren't talking about me."

His eyes turn into crescent moons as he tilts his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Aren't we?"

For a moment, the room feels smaller, quieter, the air thick with emotion. It takes you a minute to discern his words, shifting through the meaning before it all clicks.

You gasp, the weight of his words sitting like a star in your chest. "Are you saying I was your past love?"

"I mean, if the shoe fits." His lips tilt up, and the pad of his thumb finds its way across your own cheek.

He leans in closer, lips brushing against yours as he whispers, with enough sincerity to make gardens blossom in your heart, "there's a freckle for every world I have called you mine."

It all hits you right then—the depth in which you feel for him. It's dizzying, disorienting in the best of ways. You hold love itself in between your palms. It's enough to bring tears to your eyes, slipping into your sealed lips and dripping down to your chin.

Thousands of years ago, his lover whispered the stars on his skin, for now, pressed upon his cheeks will be their story, etched into the very person in which it was born.

This is just a chapter, and maybe a million years into the future you'll be here again, sharing kisses and cherry chapstick until the brownies burn. He'd hold you here forever, over and over, until time slipped past the universe's grip and his book shuts.

Felix can't help but chuckle at the complexity of his thoughts, and when you look back up at him with those big, bright eyes, it all snaps back into perspective. It was all quite simple, really.

He laces his fingers into your hair, leaning forward to seal your lips together once more.

If Felix got to choose his story, every chapter would be filled with you.

loosely based off this fic here by @luvtak! go check it out it's literally the best fic i've ever read!!

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i love stay so much thank you to every beautiful person who helped me during the concert and hugged me when i almost started crying during cover me you made the experience so much better

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guys i’m feeling a little bit better from the disappointment and heat exhaustion but the sadness has made me a lot more motivated to write something sentimental because i love them so much they are literally my home ☹️

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please anybody and everybody who did or even didn’t go to the concert sign this petition for jyp entertainment to stop working with live nation. i was one of the many, many concert goers who got disappointed with the way live nations staff acted and especially the overall tours organization. the entire north american tour has been a total shit show and stay nor stray kids deserve that.

it only takes 10 seconds. thank you so much for your consideration.

love, cookie.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

i’m having thoughts that desperately need sharing

who in skz would most likely love an inexperienced partner because they would loveeee the idea of teaching them everything and guiding them through their first time?

i have had these thoughts for so long now and i need somebody to share my delulu with 😛

you’ve come to the right place bestie, let’s be delusional together 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i feel like chan, minho, & seungmin would absolutely love the idea of having an inexperienced partner the most but i’m not opposed to the idea of all the members being into it. here’s my little list that i compiled hehe <3

chan:

he’s too fucking gentle with you at first, like he treats you as if you’re some delicate flower and is hesitant on corrupting your innocence— especially when it comes to fucking you bc he suffers from big dick syndrome and doesn’t wanna hurt you </3 but once he knows you wanna be taught, it’s game over. he’s the world’s biggest tease so ofc he loves pressing the head of his cock against your untouched folds, not entering, just showing you what’s coming. makes you say “please” until you’re crying. he gets off on having all the control, dragging you down his filthy little rabbit hole with soft praises and unbearable pressure. he wants to be the only one who’s touched you. every gasped whimper, every flutter of your pussy around him as he pushes in for the first time, he memorizes it all. his strokes are always agonizingly slow, deep, claiming, but the more you both get into it the more rough he’d get, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing to him.

“you already came twice baby, i know you’ve got one more left in you.”

minho:

pretends that he doesn’t care (spoiler: he 100% does), he jerks off to the idea of being your first more than he’d admit. especially when you’re looking up at him with those big, doey eyes, lip trembling, legs spread but uncertain— he makes you say it, “i don’t know what i’m doing.” you’ve told him that you’ve never watched porn before and have rarely ever touched yourself, you were a novice, but that’s what he’s here for, to teach you the ropes ! he corrupts you deliberately, one filthy lesson at a time. first lesson? how to suck him off. second? riding until your thighs give out. third? letting him film you crying around his cock. he’s now become fully obsessed with stripping you of your purity, shaping you into the perfect little slut just for him. can’t help but smirk as you beg for more, knowing he’s the reason for turning you into this.

“look at you— used to be so innocent. now you’re drooling on my cock like it’s all you’ve ever known. and it is, isn’t it? ‘cause i made you this way.”

seungmin:

is completely deadpan. quiet, yet dangerous. he acts unimpressed until you’re crying from just taking his fingers. then he’s leans close, voice low, and says, “you really don’t know a thing, do you?” he thrives off being the one to show you. the only one. has you arching off the sheets just from his mouth with the most smug look on his face at how easily you come apart. he doesn’t just teach, he literally reprograms you. makes sure no one else will ever satisfy you again. just watches with dark eyes as you stammer through every new sensation, feeling so overwhelmed and desperate, too shy to even say his name without whimpering ;( makes you go crazy from the way he touches you slowly, taking his sweet sweet time with you like he’s got all day bc if he’s gonna ruin you, he’s gonna relish in it. calls it “training” when he makes you practice sucking him off until your throat burns, when he fingers you for hours just to watch your mind melt from how overstimulated you are. records you babbling nonsense while your legs shake as proof that you belong to him now; have you crying, clinging to him, begging to cum again.

“good girl. you’ll take whatever i give you, yeah? ‘cause i’m the only one who knows what you need.”

changbin:

he’s your coach, absolutely loves teaching !! makes it interactive. pushes two fingers into your sopping cunt and says, “now clench. hold it. yeah, like that.” he takes utmost pride in watching you learn, fucking you in different positions until you find the one that makes you scream. makes you cum over and over again just so you understand your body better. he’s so proud of the mess he makes out of you <3 talks you through it like he’s guiding a workout— except you’re trembling, soaked, tears streaming down your cheeks bc it’s soso much but he’s still not done. makes you mirror everything he does when he eats you out, wants to hear you use your big girl words and tell him what it feels like. spreads your thighs wider with every session, the pad of his thumb circling your clit nice n slow just to watch you squirm from the simplest touches. he gets off on your innocence, gets harder every time you ask, “is this okay..?” bc it means there’s still more to ruin. makes you sit in his lap and bounce until your legs give out from shaking and your voice breaks from how many times you’ve begged. he won’t stop until your body responds to only him, trained and wrecked to perfection, even when you’re dazed, drooling, and completely fucked out.

“told you i’d make a good girl outta you, we’re just getting started.”

hyunjin:

sensual, slow, & obsessed. he calls you “innocent” like it’s your name. thinks it’s the cutest shit ever how shy you get when he’s got your legs sprawled and whispers where everything is. fingers you while describing in grave detail how he’ll fuck you and makes you repeat it back to him. “say it, baby. tell me what i taught you.” he corrupts you with elegance, artful degradation, slow-melting kisses between instruction. every night becoming another slowburn chapter in your ruin. he memorizes every little reaction, every gasp, every twitch, every time your breath catches when his lips brush your ear. he keeps you perched prettily on his cock, producing slow, diluted strokes at first, watching your brows pinch and your thighs quiver, whispering all the dirty shit he wants to do to you in a reverent tone like he’s reading poetry. paints bruises down your throat like he’s leaving his signature. tells you what a masterpiece you’ve become under his hands. won’t let you cover your face when you start to cry, he wants to witness it all. wants to see beg with those soft, needy whines that he loves as he holds your hips still and fucks you through another orgasm, praising how well you’re taking it, how much you’ve changed, won’t stop ‘til you’re boneless and spent, tear-streaked and writhing in his arms.

“you used to blush when i kissed you, but now look at you, ruined and addicted. all mine.”

jisung:

he lives for the fact that he’s your first. the way your whole body shudders just from him breathing on your cunt. how every moan you let out sounds like pure heaven to him— raw, unsure, and desperate. he’s obsessed with how new you are to everything, fingers soaked from just teaching you how to grind properly. “good girl, just like that- fuck, you’re learning so fast.” he craves to taint your innocence than anything else, saying all types of nasty shit as he makes you beg to cum for the first time. he corrupts you sweetly, patiently; until you’re reduced to nothing but a cockdrunk and clingy mess. he likes it best when you’re shy about wanting more, when you squirm under his gaze and whisper that something feels weird, and he has to gently coax you through it, telling you it’s completely normal. lets you ride his cock for the first time with your hands on his chest, telling you exactly how to move. gets so hard watching you unravel from the smallest things, his thumb on your clit, a filthy word in your ear, the soft drag of his tongue over your nipples. adores how overwhelmed you get, how easy it is to ruin you with nothing but gentle pressure and a few well-placed moans. your innocence is like a drug to him, and he’ll spend all night undoing it, slowly and thoroughly, until the only thing left of you is the pretty little mess he’s created.

“you’ll never come this hard for anyone else, baby. they didn’t break you in— i did.”

felix:

surprisingly filthy. like he’s the sweetest, most wholesome boyfriend ever in public but when it’s just you two? yeah, that’s a whole different story. that first hit of dopamine fucks him up when he finally gets a taste of you, the way your body twitches from the first brush of his tongue, he already knows he’s gonna be addicted to your pussy. he worships every shaky moan, every uncertain grind of your hips, loving how easy it is to mold you. showers you with praises while he breaks you, tells you how perfect you look when you’re so lost in pleasure you’ve never felt before. treats your virginity like a gift, but one he fully intends to unwrap, piece by piece. kisses you slow and deep while his fingers slip lower and lower, letting you get used to every inch of him before he gives you more. he coos over every nervous whimper, smiles when you get too overwhelmed to form proper words bc it means he’s doing his job right. his cock swells in size the more you cling to him, eyes glossy, lips jutting out as you beg for something you don’t even have the words for. takes his time stretching you open, his husky, commanding baritones in your ear telling you how good you’re being, how proud he is that you’re letting him ruin you. and when you’re spread out beneath him, flushed and trembling, you’re so far gone that all your shyness sheds away.

“you’re so sensitive, angel. no one’s ever touched you here like this, huh?”

jeongin:

a total freak in denial. like he’s shy and gets all blushy when you call him your first, but the moment he realizes you’re letting him guide you? a switch flips in his horny brain. he’ll make you touch yourself in front of him first, watching you intently, fingers gripping the base of his thick cock as he corrects your movements with breathy commands. is all red-faced and whimpery when he finally fucks you, drunk off the way your pussy swallows him whole every time he thrusts in a little deeper. gets a little timid when he tries to talk you through it all, voice shaky but firm— tells you where to place your hands, how to tilt your hips, what to say when you want more. just can’t help but get so worked up by you, overwhelmed and messy, looking up at him like he’s the only one who’s ever made you feel this way. feels kinda bad for how much he loves it when you cry a little from how good it feels, when you babble that you don’t know what’s happening and he gets to say, “it’s okay, baby… i’ve got you. just let me teach you.” drinking in the scenery of you falling apart under him, frenzied and blissed out for the first time.

“no one else gets to have you like this, yeah? i’m the one who ruined you.”

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the post concert depression is hitting so much harder then i expected it to like i feel like somebodies ripped something out of my chest and it’s finally sinking in that they aren’t just characters in my mind but real people that saved my life but will never know i exist

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rant under the cut bc i just got back from my 800 DOLLAR CONCERT and to say im pissed is an understatement

okay first off i should say NONE OF THIS IS SKZ FAULT!!! like truly bangchan was amazing he kept checking up on stays and was so fun and made sure we all felt good so please im not saying this is skz fault at all!

now that we have developed a safe space i’m like so annoyed right now like im laying in my hotel wanting to cry

so for starters it was like 90 - 100 degrees THE ENTIRE DAY and so the stadium was so fucking hot. skz were so clearly getting hot and tired and it made me really annoyed that they kept putting them in these like jackets as if people in crop tops weren’t DYING. (mad because they looked so tired i wish the stylists didn’t do that to them)

multiple people kept passing out to the point where they first, stopped the show, and second, CANCELED EARLY. i was so fucking excited for encore because it was my ONLY CHANCE to get an interaction and actually see them because my (800 dollar fucking tickets) were completely and totally blocked by both net, lights , AND cameras so i got to see pretty much nothing. and please don’t tell me to be grateful or something because truly not only did i spend 6 months working doubles just to save up enough for the ticket BUT i’ve been so excited about this since November and poof it’s gone

i’m not even really that upset about them stopping the concert early bc skz looked really tired and people kept getting sick so i 100% understand that but it doesn’t make it suck ANY LESS.

ngl the biggest thing i’m upset about it our seats like i tried to get an upgrade and everything bc we literally couldn’t see anything at all like it was really bad and they denied us both times. and the thing is i wouldn’t even be that upset but they never warned us on ticketmaster and how fucking expensive the tickets actually were.

like 800 DOLLARS?? FOR A SEAT I COULDNT EVEN FUCKING SEE IN.

imma be so fr right now i’m so done and i wish i could go to different stops, but i can’t because i barely had enough money to go to this one. like im just so disappointed right now and i wanna cry really bad.

i love skz so much and they truly did save my life. i’m just really upset right now i hope you guys understand

best of luck my loves. <33

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

guys i’m literally in washington and im seeing skz tmmr this isn’t real

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my guilty pleasure

pairing: seo changbin x reader wc: 1.9k summary: you know those artists that you listen to in secret? you—the ultimate cute pop princess—are changbin’s sweet secret, and he attempts to not lose his mind when he finds out you two will be performing at the same event. tags: fluff. idol!reader

“yo, the final performance lineup just dropped,” chan read the email, scrolling through his phone as the others half-listened from the couch.

changbin barely glanced up from his protein bar, pretending to be occupied, pretending not to care. it was just another event, another show, another packed green room where jisung would forget his in-ears and hyunjin would somehow bring three outfit changes.

“any surprises?” seungmin asked, already yawning.

chan blinked at the screen. “wait… wait—no way.”

changbin’s heart dropped. and then picked up speed. and then dropped again.

please not her. please not—

when chan read the full lineup, he choked.

“this is the list”

literally choked. like full-on, should-not-have-audibly-reacted kind of choke.

you were going to be performing. in all your sugary saccharine glory.

“bro?” jisung spun around. “you good?”

changbin slapped his chest twice, coughed like it was casual, like he had not just short-circuited over the mention of your name. “yeah,” he croaked. “just dry.”

lame. you are so lame.

“seriously?” felix echoed, leaning over to see. “whoa, she never does these kind of lineups.”

“right? i thought she was on a break,” chan said, tilting the screen toward them.

changbin did not look. he would not. could not. because if he saw your photo on that screen—cute, polished, probably surrounded by soft pastels and sparkles—he was going to lose it.

“she’s cool,” felix complimented.

“real earworm type,” seungmin squinted.

“no, it’s so fun! catchy stuff,” hyunjin rebuked.

changbin folded his arms tighter. “she’s fine,” he said. “not really my thing.”

they all turned to look at him.

“didn’t you hum her song last week in the car?” jisung squinted.

“i did not—”

“you did,” seungmin said. “it was the one with the glitter in the chorus.”

“it was ironic! for the bit!”

felix grinned. “sure, man.”

changbin clenched his jaw, already spiraling.

you were going to be there. you. you. the literal embodiment of soft pop princess perfection. and he was going to have to stand there like a normal person while his internal organs screamed and his brain played your entire discography on shuffle.

he could not meet you. he could not breathe near you. you probably smelled like strawberries and sparkles and he would spontaneously combust.

he needed a plan.

step one: do not freak out. step two: keep it cool. step three: delete the fan edits from his phone. immediately.

this was going to be tough.

it was fine.

he was fine.

it was just an event. you would be there. he would also be there. that was it. no reason to act like he had not memorised every syllable of your last album, or dramatically lip-synced and performed your choreography while your music videos were on the big screen when he thought no one was home.

he sat in the studio, headphones on, trying to finish a verse, but all he could hear was pink venom in my veins, got sugar on my tongue.

which was your lyric.

from an unreleased b-side.

not even a new single. he was doomed.

“you’re being weird,” minho said suddenly from the corner, not even looking up from his laptop.

changbin flinched. “what?”

“you keep sighing. like—long, emotional sighs.”

“i’m writing.”

“you’re spiraling.”

he was, but he would die before admitting it.

he buried his face in his hoodie and scrolled through his playlist. private playlist. the one named “do not open i swear to god.” the one filled with your discography, remixes, and one very sweet live recording that still made his chest ache with admiration and endearment.

he hovered over the delete button. hovered. then immediately locked his phone instead. coward.

he showed up to dance practice the next day in a black hoodie and darker sunglasses, hoping the vibe would disguise the panic in his bloodstream. jisung took one look at him and said, “you look like you’re going to cry or fight someone. what happened?”

“nothing,” changbin muttered.

“is this about the event?”

his soul left his body.

“what event,” he said. flat. monotone. suspicious.

chan raised an eyebrow from the mirror. “the one with that girl you like on the lineup?”

changbin did not answer. just stared into the distance like a man at war with himself.

the teasing was getting worse. felix had walked past him humming fairy tale fade this morning just to watch him twitch. hyunjin kept dropping “casual” mentions of your outfits. someone had set his phone background to a photo of you from your last tour.

he was not going to make it.

and worst of all, the event was tomorrow.

how could he mentally prepare for this in less than twenty four hours?

he had promised himself he would be normal.

that was the plan. normal. casual. a nod if you made eye contact. maybe a polite smile. definitely no staring. definitely no—

“hi!”

you.

you were there, in the flesh, walking into the backstage lounge like you were not the very same voice that had soundtracked his insomnia for the past year and a half.

changbin froze like his operating system had crashed. spine straight. jaw locked. soul hovering somewhere near the ceiling.

you were radiant. not even in a fancy way—just… bright. warm. clad in a soft sweater, butterfly clips in your hair, glitter on your nails and that voice, that voice, chirping out a sunny “hi!” like you had not just ruined his whole entire life by existing within a three-metre radius.

he did not speak.

you looked around the room, smiling politely at the stylists, exchanging greetings with a staff member. and then you looked at him.

eye contact?

oh god.

he nodded.

too fast. too stiff.

to be frank, he looked like he was trying to hold in a sneeze.

you smiled. waved a little. “you’re changbin, right?”

he opened his mouth.

no sound came out.

he panicked. “yeah.”

you laughed, soft and musical, and his brain nearly shorted out. “i really liked that freestyle you posted last month. the one in the stairwell?”

“...thanks.”

say more. say literally anything else. tell her she is the entire reason he believes in bridge sections. tell her he watched that one acoustic performance seventeen times and had feelings. tell her he—

“i like your sparkles,” he blurted.

you blinked. “my… sparkles?”

changbin briefly considered setting himself on fire.

“your nails. i meant. they’re… cool.”

a beat of silence.

then—your grin widened, eyes warm. “thank you. that’s really sweet.”

he felt his ears go red.

you turned to greet someone else and changbin turned slowly, silently, like a man who had just seen god and needed to go scream into a soundproof booth.

jeongin sidled up next to him. “you good?”

“no.”

“wanna sit down?”

“i cannot feel my legs.”

he was doing fine.

really.

his arms were crossed, shoulders tense, expression locked in neutral. the camera panned past him once and he didn’t flinch. what a miracle. he was the image of calm. no one would know he had sweated through two layers of clothing.

but then you came out.

spotlight. sparkles. glossed lips and a grin that lit the whole stage. your intro track rolled in—a dreamy, synthy swell—and the crowd screamed, but changbin couldn’t hear them. he could only hear you.

you were wearing that outfit, the one that had gone viral. and singing that song, the one he had once dramatically whispered into his studio mic at 3 a.m. when no one was around.

he swallowed.

he could do this. just nod along. casual. unimpressed. totally unbothered.

and then—then you looked at him.

not vaguely. directly. mid-chorus. you scanned the crowd, smiling like it was nothing, and your gaze hit his and held.

and he cracked.

just a tad.

his eyes widened. mouth parted. he shifted forward in his seat without realising. his foot tapped. his hand lifted like he might wave. he caught himself a second too late.

“...oh my god,” jisung whispered.

felix turned. jeongin blinked.

changbin snapped back in his seat, face burning. “what.”

“you just made eye contact with her,” chan muttered under his breath. “and then you smiled like a disney prince.”

“i did not.”

“bro,” hyunjin hissed, pointing. “you were glowing.”

he looked up again. you were still singing. still dazzling. still laughing between lines like you were having the time of your life.

and changbin? he was a man undone. hands clenched in his lap. heart clattering like a snare drum. every lyric felt personal. every beat synced with his pulse.

and in the back of his mind, one thought stuck deep inside like a hook caught to a fish:

he was so screwed.

after the overall performance portion had wrapped up, changbin was in hiding.

technically, he was resting behind the vending machine in the hallway next to the staff kitchen. but he was also very much hiding. curled in the shadows. hoodie up. heart still pounding from watching you sing like you had been summoning him personally.

he had survived the performance, barely. now he just had to survive the aftermath. he would wait five minutes, then sneak back to the dressing room and pretend he had been in the bathroom the whole time.

and then—

“found you.”

he jerked.

you leaned around the corner, lips glossed, cheeks still flushed from the stage. “you really are bad at hiding,” you teased.

he stood up too fast and nearly knocked over a folding chair.

“i was not— i was just— i was… stretching!”

you smiled like you could see straight through him.

“so,” you said, stepping closer. “did you like my set?”

“it was fine,” he said. voice deep, arms crossed. lying through his teeth.

you tilted your head. “only fine?”

he blinked. “i mean. yeah. like… it was energetic. or whatever.”

your grin sharpened. “hmm. must’ve been someone else who was making heart eyes at me from the third row.”

his whole face flared red.

“i was not—!”

“you were literally swaying.”

“that was muscle tension.”

“you mouthed every word.”

he covered his face with both hands. “please stop.”

you laughed, light and unbothered. “okay, okay,” you teased. “i’ll go easy on you.”

you paused.

then handed him your phone.

“here.”

he blinked down at it.

“what?”

“type your number.”

his brain stopped working. “...why?”

you shrugged. “in case i need a gym partner. or a rapper. or someone to teach me how to hide my fangirling poorly.”

he stared.

you nudged the phone into his hands.

he typed so fast he accidentally double-saved it with a heart. he panicked and tried to delete the heart but hit send instead.

you laughed again. “changbin, with a pink heart. you’re cute.”

he made a noise that could only be described as distressed victory. you winked and walked off, waving over your shoulder. “see you later, my fanboy.”

as soon as you disappeared around the corner, he exploded.

“oh my god,” he gasped. “oh my GOD.”

he sprinted back to the dressing room, burst in like a man on fire.

“GUYS—”

“you got her number, didn’t you,” seungmin said flatly, without looking up.

changbin flung himself on the couch, clutching his phone to his chest. “she called me HER fanboy and she SMILED and i think she WINKED and i do not know how to live anymore.”

“you’re being calm about this,” chan said mildly.

changbin shook his head. “i’m gonna marry her.”

the room exploded with teasing remarks. teasing changbin relentlessly? this was too good an opportunity to lose.

“you really are a fanboy huh?”

“support.”

“have you picked rings yet?”

“what’s the wedding dress code?”

“wonder what you’ll say on your first date”

changbin rolled over and screamed into a pillow.

soft changbin you have my heart for the rest of my lif

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[lixies-favorite-cookie]

aren't we? ・l.f.

💿 — felix who truly believes that you were the one who gave him all these freckles in a past life—especially the heart-shaped one.

🔭 — paring・felix x gn!reader // genres・fluff, established relationships // words・687 // warnings・felix is so sweet and sappy, if you don't like rambles or tooth-rotting fluff than you won't like this

a/n・i just can't let go of the idea that lee felix would find your soul in every lifetime! also i stole this from my short story collection that i'm working to publish because it was felix coded and i also just needed to get something out there for y'all i hope you like it my loves!!!

Felix was the part in your story, always imagined but never written down. 

And in the same way an author takes up a pen, he held his hands before you, and with quiet serenity, he swore—please, unravel your heart before me. I promise, you will never have to fantasize again—without paper or quill, he breathed all your dreams to life.

Even after four years, he continues to do so.

Felix's arms are hot around you, warm hands spread across the small of your back as he pulls you closer to him. He's kissing you, hips spreading your thighs apart from where you sit perched atop the counter's edge. The fudgy scent of brownie batter lingers in the air, wafting from a long-forgotten oven. Felix promised he would pull the brownies out after just one more kiss.

But we both know how well that went.

"Did you forget about the brownies?" Your smile must be contagious, 'cause as soon as it blossoms upon your cheeks, you have already infected him—his spreading bigger and brighter than yours.

"Brownies? What brownies? Were we cooking brownies?" he jokes, thumbs brushing patterns on your exposed back.

In the moment between lifting your gaze to admire his star-struck cheeks and now, you have taken notice of an intriguing-shaped freckle just underneath his lash line, honey-brown and cordate.

Suddenly, you lift a finger to brush the soft skin of his under-eye. First, Felix is confused. Then, as your eyes brighten with both intrigue and awe, he loses any hope of thought at all. A subtle purse in your lips tells him of your deep concentration.

He can't help the amused breath he puffs from his nose.

"What?" he whispers, eyes glazed with admiration.

"You have a heart-shaped freckle." The realization dawns on you with a soft gasp—something so simple, yet so profound. It felt so perfectly Felix.

Mindlessly, he brings his hand up to touch the mark. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"You know, your past lover must have adored your cheeks."

His fingers never cease their exploration upon your bare back. "Do you adore my cheeks?"

You let out an involuntary laugh. "Well, of course I do, but we aren't talking about me."

His eyes turn into crescent moons as he tilts his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Aren't we?"

For a moment, the room feels smaller, quieter, the air thick with emotion. It takes you a minute to discern his words, shifting through the meaning before it all clicks.

You gasp, the weight of his words sitting like a star in your chest. "Are you saying I was your past love?"

"I mean, if the shoe fits." His lips tilt up, and the pad of his thumb finds its way across your own cheek.

He leans in closer, lips brushing against yours as he whispers, with enough sincerity to make gardens blossom in your heart, "there's a freckle for every world I have called you mine."

It all hits you right then—the depth in which you feel for him. It's dizzying, disorienting in the best of ways. You hold love itself in between your palms. It's enough to bring tears to your eyes, slipping into your sealed lips and dripping down to your chin.

Thousands of years ago, his lover whispered the stars on his skin, for now, pressed upon his cheeks will be their story, etched into the very person in which it was born.

This is just a chapter, and maybe a million years into the future you'll be here again, sharing kisses and cherry chapstick until the brownies burn. He'd hold you here forever, over and over, until time slipped past the universe's grip and his book shuts.

Felix can't help but chuckle at the complexity of his thoughts, and when you look back up at him with those big, bright eyes, it all snaps back into perspective. It was all quite simple, really.

He laces his fingers into your hair, leaning forward to seal your lips together once more.

If Felix got to choose his story, every chapter would be filled with you.

loosely based off this fic here by @luvtak! go check it out it's literally the best fic i've ever read!!

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

i just wanna kiss his pretty pretty neck

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face reveal soon? 🤭🤭

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currently watching the documentary on the astroworld tragedy and…wtf

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

samson ❁ lfx x gn!reader

it’s 12 minutes till your birthday, and you’re reminiscing on falling in love <3

❁ tw/genre fluff! just sweet lovers being sweet, what can i say its what i do best! reader is said to be a year younger than felix. unedited.

❁ w/c 1037

❁ a/n its been months and months since i’ve written anything, but i’m finally free for the summer!! i’m hoping to write a bunch so i hope you like this one and watch for all the others!! ily always <3 happy reading!!

masterlist

it all started with a smile; a warm glinting thing that brought goosebumps to your skin, and butterflies in your belly.

You saw him from across the room, the first party of the summer in full force—music blasting and bad decisions forming—and the boy in the corner, shining with golden sunlight and a midnight grin.

His eyes were remembering his last laugh, crescent moons twinkling on beat with the music. The song’s refrain repeating dirty words and pretty fantasies, all while this beautiful boy looked over at you.

You remember thinking he was beautiful, not merely hot or good looking, but beautiful…

What would it be like to be loved by this boy?

He was really truly lovely, and he was looking at you. He can see how he walked, his hips swaying as he moved his body to you, shaking hands and blowing kisses at his friends nearby. He was loved that much was obvious, filling up on affection from everyone he passed, but still he was staring at you.

Your heart’s song filled your ears and his toothy grin blinded, but still you couldn’t look away—breath getting heavier the closer he got to you. The memory of the party is hazy… friends and ex lovers dancing and drinking, laughing and lying… But the memory of the first time you saw Felix lives in your head like a recorded re-run.

“Hi,” he told you, “D’ya come here often?”

He said it with the sweetest voice, barely recognizing how cheesy it was, but still you sighed… this pretty boy and his pretty voice…

He spoke to you all night, hand on your thigh and eyes alight with mischief. You might’ve fallen in love right then, sinking into infatuation like a worn out couch. He was so familiar, like a dream you’d had once, or a dream of a dream…

You remember all this, yet you still can’t believe he’s in bed with you now, curled around you like a sleepy house cat—as warm and inviting as your childhood blankets.

“I can’t believe it's almost your birthday…” He tells you, “you’re so old now.”

“Felix!” you say, laughing even while reprimanding.

“What?! you were just a baby when we met, now you’re an old broad.”

“Well, if I’m old then you’re ancient—don’t forget you robbed the cradle.” You tell him, laughing at his distraught pout.

“Baby, I’m only a year older than you,” He cries, holding you tighter through his crocodile tears.

Your giggles are misplaced in your dark room, the only light coming from the fairy nightlight Felix insisted you bought. Your skin is hot underneath the layers of clothes and your boyfriend’s warm body, but still you move closer to him—snuggling into his hold.

“I can’t believe my baby is this mean to me, but I’ll let it go since your birthday is in 12 minutes…”

“How kind of you,” you say, “it’s almost like you love me…”

“Yeah, yeah” Felix says, but he does love you—with every atom that makes up his physical body.

Ever since he saw you, he knew it, believing in love at first sight as soon as he saw you in your party clothes. He remembers his heart stuttering in his chest, the way his ears burned—he fell in love then, but he knows he needs you now. Needs you like a plant needs sun and water, like you’re his basic needs come to life.

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks, “That first night we met?” Felix sounds nervous, which is silly really—why would he ever need to be nervous with you?

“All the time,” you tell him, “I think it’s my favorite memory.”

It's his too—he’s been thinking about it a lot lately, your face smiling up at him… his hands burning with the need to touch you. Everything was new and slightly forbidden, coated in impropriety and illicit fantasies. He loves that memory, the moment he knew he had to be yours, but he thinks he may love this moment more…

Laying in bed with you, two hearts in one shelter, your hands rubbing at his back with loving familiarity rather than an exciting caress. Yes, meetings are always magic, but knowing you inside out and front and back sure is better. You’re his, your heart lives in his chest cavity and beats next to his—there is no insecurity or beginning giggles, he loves you with the stability of a hundred armys. That first moment was his favorite memory, but now there's this: you in your jammies making fun of him, counting down the minutes until your birthday.

“I think your birthday is my favorite day of the year,” He says, voice deep with sleepy thoughts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I love seeing you happy—plus, it reminds me that you’re here, that I get to love you and celebrate you… It’s my favorite thing to do you know,”

“Do what, honey?”

“Love you.” His voice is honey and his smile is torture, shining down at you with a look that tells you he knows what he’s doing. “Four more minutes now.”

God you love him, you’re silly sweet boy—how treacherous it is to love him, to feel your heart trying to squeeze out of your rib cage and break into his. Loving him is sublime: terrible and powerful, beautiful and ugly; loving him is everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you need. Even while he crushes your weight with his, even when he starts teasing you about all your embarrassing moments this year—counting one by one till he gets to your age.

“You’re such a menace , I don’t know why I put up with you.” You say, but you’re kissing him, pressing your lips to his after every humiliating moment he brings up. “Thirty more seconds!”

He grins, prettier than anything you’ve ever seen, and starts singing you into your new year. Each ‘happy birthday’ in a different funny voice, with a kiss to end each verse.

“Happy birthday, my baby love.” He whispers, sweet and sultry like chocolate cake. “Can I give you your present now?” he asks, eyes lighting up with familiar trouble, and you know—with everything in you—you’ll never get enough of him.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

i don't write what i wanna read. i write so that emotions sound beautiful.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

just got my nails done for the concert and i realized i can barely fucking type 😝