#leefelixcomfort
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yaniiiiism · 18 days ago
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here's your mocha latte, with a side of me? ꒰ a l.fx imagine ꒱
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~ ۫ 𖨂 𓈒 ☕️ ۟ ៹ 𓂂 ᘡ
masterlist > schedule > main directory
♪┆pairing : lee felix x fem!reader ͏ ♪┆info : cafe barista x customer, uni au, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, cuties. ♪┆ personas: uni students , reader is an anthropology student (wanted to switch a bit :) strangers that go to uni , no mention of hobbies so add yours !! ♪┆word count : 3k ♪┆warnings : tooth rotting fluff. sunshine lixie being himself <3
happy (late) lixie day ! ✰
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The café had always been a hidden gem—tucked between two towering bookshops and half-covered in ivy that gave it a quiet magic.
And it was here, in this little coffee haven, that two lives started to intertwine in unexpected ways.
Y/n had been coming here regularly for weeks now, sliding in most mornings with a soft 'hi' and a slight smile. It was warm but polite, like she didn’t want to disrupt the calm that filled the place.
She’d always order the same thing—a mocha latte with extra foam—and settle into her favorite spot by the window. Her table was something of a fortress, surrounded by stacks of books and scattered papers.
She spent hours there, immersed in her work, her gaze often drifting out the window to the trees swaying lazily in the breeze.
But lately, her eyes had been wandering elsewhere.
To the counter, to be exact. Or, rather, to someone behind the counter.
Felix.
The name tag on his forest green apron spelled it out clearly, though it wasn’t hard to remember. He was the type of person you didn’t easily forget.
With sandy blonde hair spilling out from beneath a slightly-too-big beige beanie and eyes that sparkled with some endless, secretive mischief, he looked like he belonged here—like he was part of the café’s unique charm. His presence was as warm as the lights strung along the walls, like a permanent fixture of the place.
Felix had noticed her right away.
To be fair, he noticed everyone, quick with a smile, always ready with a friendly quip, a social butterfly in every sense. But there was something different about this regular—this girl who ordered her mocha latte each morning and tucked herself away by the window.
She seemed like one of those people you saw every day but somehow never really knew. The kind of person you wanted to ask about the story they carried, about what hid behind the small, quiet smile she kept just for herself.
It started out simple enough—a quick glance here, a little smile there, a few “good morning” greetings exchanged over the counter.
The blonde's friends and coworkers had noticed too, occasionally catching him gazing just a beat too long in her direction. They’d nudge him, teasing, and he’d brush it off with a shrug and a grin.
He’d tell himself it was nothing, just a curiosity. But each time she walked in, he found himself a little more drawn in, the pull stronger than he’d ever expected.
~
The first time they really spoke beyond a “hi” and “thank you” was an accident.
One gray afternoon, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/n realized she’d forgotten her prized notebook at home.
She frowned, mildly irritated; she’d planned to spend a few hours working.
Felix, who was wiping down tables near her spot, couldn’t help but notice her furrowed brows, cute, he thought.
“You okay there?” he asked, his voice low but friendly, like he was speaking in the library.
She glanced up, surprised.
“Oh—uh, yeah. I just… forgot my notebook,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.
He grinned, tucking the cloth he was holding into his apron pocket. “A writer, hm? Or a student?”
“Both,” she laughed shyly, her cheeks warming as he leaned in just a bit, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m working on a research paper. And I think I left half my sanity in that notebook.”
Felix laughed, the sound warm and easy, and it made her smile widen a bit. “Research paper? Let me guess. Something thrilling, like organic chemistry or macroeconomics?”
“Close,” she teased. “It’s actually an analysis of cultural symbolism in modern art. You know… riveting stuff.”
“Oh, sounds very serious,” he replied, leaning on the back of the chair across from her. “But I think it’d be more riveting if you had some caffeine to go with it. On the house, maybe?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t—”
“Hey,” he raised a hand, “I insist. For the arts.” His eyes held hers, exaggerating his words with hand actions, a spark of playful sincerity in the gaze.
And so, for the first time, she watched Felix bring her a mocha latte from across the counter, carefully placing it in front of her with a grin that seemed almost too charming for a place as quiet as this café.
~
After that day, things shifted—just slightly, but noticeably.
There were more smiles, more exchanges. She would glance up from her work sometimes, finding the blonde already looking her way, and he’d offer her a quick wink before going back to wiping down tables or taking someone else’s order.
She found herself smiling more than usual, her gaze following him whenever he moved around the café.
One chilly morning, she came in a little later than usual, wrapped up in a thick scarf and shivering slightly from the cool snowy weather outside. Her brown hair, partially were sprinkled with sugar-like snowflakes, as she quickly closed the wooden-glass door behind her.
The guy, who’d been leaning against the counter waiting for her, broke into a grin as soon as he saw her.
“Oh, a little cold, are we?”
She laughed, cheeks heating as soon as she heard his deep voice. “Well, hello to you too, Felix.”
He chuckled, unbothered. “Sooo, should I take a wild guess at what you’re ordering today?”
“Oh, you’re psychic now, too?” she shot back, feigning surprise, raising an eyebrow.
He gasped in mock shock. “You got me. How’d you know?” He tapped his forehead, giving her a mock-serious look. “It’s all in here.”
She laughed, like she always would, watching as he went to make her drink, still playfully speaking as he worked. And as he slid the mocha across the counter toward her, he gave her a look so warm, so familiar, that for a moment, she forgot they were strangers at all.
“You know,” he began, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful expression, “I think I should get to know the mysterious mocha drinker a little better. How else am I supposed to keep nailing your exact order?”
“Oh, is that why?” she replied, biting back a smile. “For the sake of the perfect mocha?”
“Exactly,” he nodded, eyes twinkling. “Only for quality control, of course.”
The two fell into a soft rhythm, like an unspoken dance, each of them taking turns to ask and answer questions, uncovering little pieces of each other’s lives with every passing moment. Felix learned she was studying anthropology, that she had a younger brother who’d recently started university, that her favorite book was Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.
She learned he was majoring in design, that he loved baking as much as he loved making coffee, and that he could spend hours watching old animated films without getting bored.
Just the perfect match, as someone would say.
Eventually, the café became more than just a place for her to work; it became a place for her to find something that felt strangely like home.
And Felix, the friendly barista with the smile that lit up the whole town, was slowly becoming a part of her morning ritual, someone who made her look forward to the quiet hours by the window just a little bit more.
~
The next morning, she noticed a little sketch on her coffee cup, a tiny doodle of a smiling sun with the words, 'Good luck today!' written underneath.
She looked up, catching Felix’s eye, and he smiled, giving her a casual little shrug.
“Thought you could use a little good luck,” he explained, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "You know, for the research presentation today."
"You remembered?" She felt her heart skip, surprised by the unexpected sweetness of the gesture. “Thank you… really.”
Felix gave her a soft smile, one that lingered with unspoken words. “Anytime.”
And she left the café soon, after the moment had made her smile a little wider, a warmth blooming in her chest that she couldn’t quite put into words.
And Felix, well… watched her, like he always did.
He had never felt so drawn to someone he barely knew. It was strange, exciting, and a little scary, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he wanted to know her more. A lot more.
The same day, the slightly-warmer noon, was where he found the same girl sitting in her usual spot by the window, deeply engrossed in the notes spread across her table, as he entered the café for his shift.
The soft clinking of mugs and murmuring of the café filled the air, a familiar comfort. Seemed like a co-worker of his had served her today, or did he? Her eyes shot up to him entering, seeing the bell ring slightly as he closed the door behind him. He was wearing a puffy black jacket, which was now being discarded and hung onto the stand beside the door, while she stared at his figure. As he turned around, their gazes met. He smiled, as bright as ever, sending her heart straight to a marathon.
"Well, hello again," He greeted, walking towards the counter. "How did your presentation go?"
She smiled, "It actually.. went better than I thought it would. Thanks to the latte earlier,"
He nodded, "That's good to hear.. seems like my wishes worked, huh?" A chuckle escaped his lips.
"It sure did," She replied with a smile, interrupted a bit as more customers started to enter the café.
Felix had already returned behind the counter, called by his co-worker, Seungmin.
"You're finally here, oh god," The brunet nudged Felix, handing him the tray of the specific order, freshly brewed. "I thought I would have to end up serving your little love interest her usual, thanks for being late, yeah?" He shot a glare his way, quickly pushing the dumbfounded guy, slightly to leave the kitchen.
"Wait up, how long did you keep her waiti-" The elder opened his mouth to protest, only to be greeted by the soft push. "Just go serve her already, will you!"
Meanwhile, today, Y/n wasn’t as absorbed in her work as she seemed. She’d lift her gaze, watching Felix out of the corner of her eye as he moved towards the counter, hoping he’d glance her way.
And soon enough, he did.
Felix caught her looking, his lips curling into a little smirk as he walked over. “What, am I that distracting?” he teased, setting her mocha latte down with a flourish. He seemed unusually fidgety, fingers tapping against the cup as if he were holding something back.
Y/n laughed, feigning a deep, thoughtful expression. “Maybe. You do have a way of stealing the spotlight.”
He snorted, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. “Or maybe you’re just looking for excuses to stare at me.”
“Bold assumption, Felix,” she replied, grinning as she took a sip. Her heart did a tiny flip when he didn’t deny it, his gaze soft as he watched her with that lingering smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting with the.. latte. My fellow barista," He glanced back towards the kitchen, eyes meeting the said guy who seemed to enjoy the other two's moment through the small window. "..ran into some inconveniences."
The blonde only communicated with Seungmin with his eyes, probably motioning his friend to quit being a stalker to the moment.
Soon, the two fell into easy conversation, after serving other customers, his fingers still idly tapping on the counter.
Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he looked down, scratching the back of his neck.
“Uh, you know,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter. “I was actually wondering if—well, if you’d maybe like to hang out outside this café sometime. Like, more than just a customer and a barista thing?”
Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. But her heart picked up speed, warmth spreading across her cheeks as she smiled up at him. “Like friends?”
“Or like..” he shifted his weight, glancing away for a split second before meeting her eyes with a sheepish grin. “Friends.. who, you know, maybe like each other a little?”
Her heart was practically racing now. She tried to keep her cool, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking me out, Lee Felix?”
He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Only if you say yes. I mean, I’m not going to force you or anything. But, I think, it’d be nice to hang out. Just us. Away from coffee orders and doodles on cups.”
For a moment, she said nothing, just looked at him with a growing smile that seemed to say more than words could. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “I’d love that.”
The grin that spread across his face was instant, lighting up his eyes with a joy that made her heart do yet another little flip.
Later that evening, around six, the blonde took her to a cozy, lesser-known part of town where string lights draped over cobblestone pathways, casting a soft, golden glow across small street stalls.
They wandered through rows of trinkets and vintage books, the air filled with a slight chill and the smell of freshly made pastries.
“This place is like a dream,” Y/n murmured, taking it all in as they strolled side by side. “How did you even find it?”
He chuckled, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “I have my ways. Plus, I figured it’d suit you. Quiet, a little hidden, full of character, kind of like our café.”
She nudged him with her shoulder, laughing. “Are you implying I’m quiet and hidden?”
He feigned innocence. “Hey, you’re the one who sneaks into the café all quiet every morning. And as for hidden…” He paused, looking at her with a slight tilt to his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes you just look like you’re lost in your own world. It’s kinda cute, really.”
She felt warmth blossom in her chest, her cheeks flushing as she looked down, smiling to herself. “Well, maybe I was just looking for a place to escape,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his tone playful yet warm. “Lucky for you, I’m an expert at escaping the ordinary. Follow me.”
They drifted from the stalls and found themselves near a small fountain tucked away from the main bustle of the market, framed by ivy and stone benches.
He gestured for her to sit beside him, and as she did, she noticed him fidgeting slightly, his leg bouncing in place.
“You okay?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Me?” He shot her a nervous grin. “Yeah, totally fine. Just, you know, first time actually hanging out. Outside the café, without, like, a counter between us.” He laughed, glancing away. “I don’t usually get nervous around people, but you’re.. different.”
She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “Good different?”
“The best kind of different,” he murmured, his voice suddenly quiet and sincere.
For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them charged with a soft intimacy that felt new yet somehow familiar. He hesitantly reached for her hand, his fingers grazing hers in a touch that felt electric, as if every nerve in her body woke up at the contact. As if he was trying to see if it was okay, and did he even know, it was so much more than okay.
They sat there, their fingers intertwined, warmth blooming from their hands into their chests. He was the first to speak, his voice soft but laced with a smile. “You know, I always thought you were one of those people who seemed like they’d have their whole life figured out. But then, I got to know you a little, and I realized maybe…you’re just like the rest of us. Trying to figure things out, one mocha latte at a time.”
She chuckled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Guess you’re not as psychic as you thought. I’m far from having it all figured out.”
“Well,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper, “maybe we can figure it out together.”
Y/n felt her heart swell, warmth spreading from her chest to her cheeks, as she looked down at their joined hands, smiling softly. “I’d like that.”
They spent the rest of the night walking through the quiet streets, talking about everything and nothing—sharing stories, dreams, memories, and hopes they hadn’t even told their closest friends. He would lean closer each time she laughed, the sound sending a thrill down his spine that he was sure she could feel.
As they reached the end of the evening, he walked her back to her apartment, the silence between them comfortable yet buzzing with something neither of them could name.
They stopped just outside her building, and he turned to face her, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “So.. I had a really nice time tonight.”
“Me too,” she whispered, almost breathless, looking up at him as if seeing him in a new light.
They lingered in that moment, their faces close, eyes meeting in a quiet understanding that words couldn’t capture. Felix lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
His voice softened, almost a whisper. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at mocha lattes the same way.”
She laughed, biting her lip as she felt her cheeks warm. “Guess that makes two of us, cute, blonde, barista guy.”
He chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “Maybe we should try something different next time. Something a little stronger.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Stronger? Like, coffee?”
“Yeah, or…” he hesitated, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, “like feelings?”
She blushed, feeling warmth spread through her chest as she held his gaze. “Guess I’ll have to try that sometime.”
With a gentle, lingering smile, he gave her hand one last squeeze. “Good night, Y/n.”
“Good night, Lix.”
As he walked away, she stood there, watching him disappear into the street, her heart feeling fuller than it had in a long time.
And for once, she couldn’t wait for the next morning.
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a/n. ୨ৎ
HAPPY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY SUNSHINE baby lixie :<< SORRY FOR THE LATE POST !! 😞 if u liked this lmk by commenting or liking <333 check out my post-schedule/masterlist/taglists/etc right here ! thank you for reading >< !! also just fine chp 8 is coming soon ! had too many festivals in my country so hard to update :[ — love, yani ♥︎
thank you for the dividers! ♡︎ @adornedwithlight
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lieslab · 23 days ago
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Why does my skin start to burn?
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꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎
Pairing: Lee Felix X gn reader
Summary: Watching Felix read his bible leads to a conversation far deeper than he ever imagined.
Genre: Comfort/hurt
Word Count: 2.1K
Trigger warning: Anxiety, religious guilt, anger, mentions of murder, sexual assault, hate crimes, hatred against women, child abuse, and animal cruelty.
_ _ _
And the two of you fell into a constant routine; a constant pull of gravity of earth and moon. One could not function properly without the other. What good is the earth without the moon? 
The pale moonlight that trails the lost from darkened woods. It highlights the faces of lovers at night and speaks whispers to children, at least, that’s what they think. Their very own personal protector against the darkness, a light in a beacon of nothingness, the one thing that makes them feel as if they’re not so alone. 
You were on your back and already tucked beneath the blankets. That moon sat outside the fluttering curtains. A cool breeze shifted in, but it didn’t help the bubbling anxiety. The what-ifs were back again and as much as you tried to push them away, they remained as a constant thorn in your side. 
Yellow light pooled around the front of the bed via a side lamp. Beside you, the warmth of Felix’s body provided comfort. He was sitting up beside you and tucked beneath the blankets too. You were both draped in the king-sized maroon bedding. Nothing could harm the two of you here. It’s what you wanted to believe. 
A black leather-back bible sat in Felix’s hands. The occasional wisp of a page turning filled the air. His eyebrows sat in a natural furrow as he studied the information. His lips moved as he read, a way to absorb more of the words that way. 
The word of God was so crucial to some. Sometimes in ways that you would never understand. How could you? How could you understand when talking to God felt like talking to empty air? 
People like to say God is there. They like to say he’s always listening and always watching. Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t. It’s always been something you’ve questioned. Some say it’s the lack of faith, but you always say that maybe it’s just the lack of mankind itself. 
Thoughts and prayers. It’s always the thoughts and prayers. Thoughts and prayers through the hurricanes and thunderstorms. Thoughts and prayers when you’re left with your skin on fire after recounting an incident of sexual assault. Thoughts and prayers when life throws you into the deep end and there’s nothing to grab onto. 
There is no life preserver. The words pelt and then slide off of you. They hold no meaning. The weight of your actions is set in stone and words are just words. They can change at any time. A verbal pity works for some, but for others, it feels like receiving a half-deflated balloon on their birthday. 
You sat there with your eyes closed. The low hum of the ceiling fan and the soft whispers of Felix’s voice. Somewhere in the new testament, something about Jesus and the damnation of hell. 
The damnation of hell was eternal. Hot flames lick your skin, but there is no ice to soothe the burn. Skin shrivels and crisps and no matter how much you try, it just won’t disappear. Forever and ever, a seal of God’s abandonment. A testament that you’re just not good enough in his eyes. 
Life is hard and religion can be confusing. So many devotions and deities. Some say sit and others say stay. Everyone always says theirs is the right one, but which one truly is right? Which one saves you from the flames?
“Felix?” Your eyes fluttered open as you mumbled his name. His soft whispers didn’t stop. Too absorbed in the word, he didn’t hear you. He stayed focused until you shifted and called his name louder. 
“Hmm?” The bible slid down. His thumbs pressed down on the pages to hold the book open. “I thought you were asleep.” 
“How do you believe in God?” 
“Huh?” His head shifted. 
“How do you believe?” You uttered again. “How do you know it’s real?” 
“Because God loves everyone. God’s love is unchanging and it’s unconditional.” 
You shook your head, pushed off the blankets, and sat up. “How do you truly know? How do you stop it from feeling so silly? How do you believe in God when it feels fake?” 
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “When it feels fake? What do you mean?” He studied your body language. Your arms had curled around your torso. You looked so vulnerable as you eyed the book in his hands. “Oh.” 
He knew you often struggled. Dating someone who didn’t quite believe the same way as you could push a bit of a challenge at times. The two of you often did an unsteady dance. Most of the time, he kept his religion to himself. You asked here and there, but he never wanted to make you uncomfortable. 
“How do you believe in a God when it feels like everything is falling apart? When the world is crumbling, when people are cruel, when they’re getting hurt; how do you live with it?” 
You didn’t mean to pour it onto him like this. You didn’t mean to grieve and to seem so weak, but what else could you do? Empathy pooled and rather than living on earth, it felt more like living in the pits of hell. 
Another life lost to murder. Another hate crime because to some, skin color isn’t just skin, it’s a sin. Another kid forced into the ugly hands of the world because of who they love. 
The degradation and damnation of a woman. Just an object. A thing. A toy. A hole. A whore. 
Where was God when children went to bed crying and bleeding due to monsters within their households? When dogs were kicked in the ribs by strangers in the middle of nowhere? When a duct-tape cardboard box, full of kittens with sparkling eyes; a box full of vibrancy, was reduced to nothingness as it sank beneath the the top of a bubbling swamp? 
How do you believe when it all spirals out of control? When the darkness blinds you and no matter how much you try to take it off, you can’t fix a severed optic nerve. There is nothing that can restore the sight once the nerve is severed.
“I have hope,” Felix finally uttered. “I read this,” he gently shook the bible, “and I try to do what’s right. In the bible, Jesus is a sinless human, but we’re not like that. We’re bound to sin and fall into temptation at one point or another.” 
“But we’re made flawless in God’s image. So why does…” Your voice cut off as a lump formed in your throat. 
You knew it was dumb. He believed what he believed and that was that. It wasn’t your place to change it, but you just didn’t understand. How could someone so easily pretend that everything was okay? The world was on fire. Sin was everywhere. How didn’t it hurt him as much as it hurt you? 
“I have those days too, you know.” He shifted the thin black string that was glued into the book binding. The thick book closed with a soft thud. The string marked the last page he was on.
“There’s a lot of nasty stuff out there, so I read the bible. I utter prayers and I believe because I have to believe that something happens to cruel people. I have to believe that the monsters will get what they deserve when it’s all said and done.” 
“I’m not perfect and I don’t claim to be. In fact, I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be flawed, I want to be forced to change, I want to be challenged, so I can grow. What is this life if not a constant chance to stride to be better? To do more? To be a decent person?” 
One of his hands slipped into yours. Warm fingers curled around your palm and his thumb slid along the backside of your hand. “Some days, it’s a lot for me too. I think there’s a lot we don’t understand, but this makes sense for me.” 
“You really believe that sinning sends you to hell?” 
“I don’t think God will send you to hell if you tell a little white lie now and then, but I think he will if you like to be an asshole on a daily basis. I don’t know for sure, I’m not God. This book has been rewritten so many times, but I like to think that the theme is the same.” 
“I worry that the deceased people I love are burning. I worry that they’re lost on the other side somehow. I worry about death. I worry about…” Your eyes slipped shut, but a tear fell through. “I worry about everything.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. One of the greatest things about life is that you can pick whatever you want. You can be who you want to be and believe in whatever you want to. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not.” He reached up and gently wiped the tear with his thumb. 
“You’re not going to break up with me and damn me to hell if I don’t believe in your god?” Your eyes opened to face him. 
A small smile tugged at his face and he shook his head. “That’s not who I am. As long as you’re not being a jerk and you’re happy, then why should I care? It’s not up to me to control you and you shouldn’t let anyone dictate things like that.” 
“You’ve got a good heart and a good head on your shoulders.” His hand reached up towards your face. Your breath caught in your throat and you fell hard into that pool of warm molasses. 
The sweetness of honey, warm molasses, and gentle understanding. Why couldn’t we have more of it? The kindness, the selflessness, the happiness that one inspired in others? As you stared into his eyes, you wished more people could be like him. 
“I want you to be happy. If you want to ask questions about God, I’ll try to answer them. If you don’t, that’s okay too.” He shrugged, “it’s not a big deal.” 
“How do you stay so positive when there’s so much evil in the world?” 
“I want no part of it. I like to think that maybe if I’m kind and I treat people how I want to be treated, maybe it’ll make a difference somewhere. Maybe I’ll change someone somewhere. The world could use more kindness.” 
His hand gently cupped your cheek. More tears were slipping out and he brushed them away. “There’s a lot of evil in this world, but there’s a lot of goodness too. Kindness doesn’t have to be some huge thing. It can be gifted to people in a variety of ways.” 
“Like yesterday,” he smiled, “a little girl was outside with a lemonade stand. She made signs and everything. I bought a cup of lemonade and then put a little extra money in her tip jar.”  
“She was excited and she said she was raising money for a new bike. She was so excited, she took off into her house with her pigtails bobbling.” He laughed at the memory of it. “It was so cute and it was just a simple thing, you know?” 
“That’s really sweet,” you finally responded with a sniffle. You reached up and brushed away another tear. The story pulled you from your darkened thoughts for a brief moment. 
“Life doesn’t always have to be so bad. Little things like that make a tiny difference in someone else’s life. You never know who you’ll meet or what life you’ll change with actions like that. Kindness is the best superpower that a person can have.” 
“Kindness isn’t a superpower.” 
“Hey! To me it is! I’m going to get a cape and everything. Put a logo right here.” He pounded on his chest with a fist. “Anyone can be a superhero with some kindness and understanding.” 
“Uh-huh.” 
His eyes narrowed at the sarcasm. “You don’t believe me? Hmm, that’s funny because if I said that I could cheer you up even more by offering to make my brownies…” 
“Anyone can be a superhero with kindness.” You nodded vigorously and quickly wiggled away. You squirmed to the edge of the bed and stood up. “Right, okay, let’s go.” 
He grinned and put his bible to the side. He started walking towards the door, but he stopped when your wrist captured his. A face of confusion met yours and you leaned forward. 
The sweetness of honey, warm molasses, and gentle understanding; it radiated through your body as your lips met his. 
| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.�� | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |
Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45
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newbbystay · 22 days ago
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This was so good!! I loved the conversation between the two of them. The pure vulnerability and the perfect environment for it. I love that Felix didn't try to force her into believing and answered her questions. The little snippets of her past, but not in great detail were well written!
Why does my skin start to burn?
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꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎
Pairing: Lee Felix X gn reader
Summary: Watching Felix read his bible leads to a conversation far deeper than he ever imagined.
Genre: Comfort/hurt
Word Count: 2.1K
Trigger warning: Anxiety, religious guilt, anger, mentions of murder, sexual assault, hate crimes, hatred against women, child abuse, and animal cruelty.
_ _ _
And the two of you fell into a constant routine; a constant pull of gravity of earth and moon. One could not function properly without the other. What good is the earth without the moon? 
The pale moonlight that trails the lost from darkened woods. It highlights the faces of lovers at night and speaks whispers to children, at least, that’s what they think. Their very own personal protector against the darkness, a light in a beacon of nothingness, the one thing that makes them feel as if they’re not so alone. 
You were on your back and already tucked beneath the blankets. That moon sat outside the fluttering curtains. A cool breeze shifted in, but it didn’t help the bubbling anxiety. The what-ifs were back again and as much as you tried to push them away, they remained as a constant thorn in your side. 
Yellow light pooled around the front of the bed via a side lamp. Beside you, the warmth of Felix’s body provided comfort. He was sitting up beside you and tucked beneath the blankets too. You were both draped in the king-sized maroon bedding. Nothing could harm the two of you here. It’s what you wanted to believe. 
A black leather-back bible sat in Felix’s hands. The occasional wisp of a page turning filled the air. His eyebrows sat in a natural furrow as he studied the information. His lips moved as he read, a way to absorb more of the words that way. 
The word of God was so crucial to some. Sometimes in ways that you would never understand. How could you? How could you understand when talking to God felt like talking to empty air? 
People like to say God is there. They like to say he’s always listening and always watching. Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t. It’s always been something you’ve questioned. Some say it’s the lack of faith, but you always say that maybe it’s just the lack of mankind itself. 
Thoughts and prayers. It’s always the thoughts and prayers. Thoughts and prayers through the hurricanes and thunderstorms. Thoughts and prayers when you’re left with your skin on fire after recounting an incident of sexual assault. Thoughts and prayers when life throws you into the deep end and there’s nothing to grab onto. 
There is no life preserver. The words pelt and then slide off of you. They hold no meaning. The weight of your actions is set in stone and words are just words. They can change at any time. A verbal pity works for some, but for others, it feels like receiving a half-deflated balloon on their birthday. 
You sat there with your eyes closed. The low hum of the ceiling fan and the soft whispers of Felix’s voice. Somewhere in the new testament, something about Jesus and the damnation of hell. 
The damnation of hell was eternal. Hot flames lick your skin, but there is no ice to soothe the burn. Skin shrivels and crisps and no matter how much you try, it just won’t disappear. Forever and ever, a seal of God’s abandonment. A testament that you’re just not good enough in his eyes. 
Life is hard and religion can be confusing. So many devotions and deities. Some say sit and others say stay. Everyone always says theirs is the right one, but which one truly is right? Which one saves you from the flames?
“Felix?” Your eyes fluttered open as you mumbled his name. His soft whispers didn’t stop. Too absorbed in the word, he didn’t hear you. He stayed focused until you shifted and called his name louder. 
“Hmm?” The bible slid down. His thumbs pressed down on the pages to hold the book open. “I thought you were asleep.” 
“How do you believe in God?” 
“Huh?” His head shifted. 
“How do you believe?” You uttered again. “How do you know it’s real?” 
“Because God loves everyone. God’s love is unchanging and it’s unconditional.” 
You shook your head, pushed off the blankets, and sat up. “How do you truly know? How do you stop it from feeling so silly? How do you believe in God when it feels fake?” 
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “When it feels fake? What do you mean?” He studied your body language. Your arms had curled around your torso. You looked so vulnerable as you eyed the book in his hands. “Oh.” 
He knew you often struggled. Dating someone who didn’t quite believe the same way as you could push a bit of a challenge at times. The two of you often did an unsteady dance. Most of the time, he kept his religion to himself. You asked here and there, but he never wanted to make you uncomfortable. 
“How do you believe in a God when it feels like everything is falling apart? When the world is crumbling, when people are cruel, when they’re getting hurt; how do you live with it?” 
You didn’t mean to pour it onto him like this. You didn’t mean to grieve and to seem so weak, but what else could you do? Empathy pooled and rather than living on earth, it felt more like living in the pits of hell. 
Another life lost to murder. Another hate crime because to some, skin color isn’t just skin, it’s a sin. Another kid forced into the ugly hands of the world because of who they love. 
The degradation and damnation of a woman. Just an object. A thing. A toy. A hole. A whore. 
Where was God when children went to bed crying and bleeding due to monsters within their households? When dogs were kicked in the ribs by strangers in the middle of nowhere? When a duct-tape cardboard box, full of kittens with sparkling eyes; a box full of vibrancy, was reduced to nothingness as it sank beneath the the top of a bubbling swamp? 
How do you believe when it all spirals out of control? When the darkness blinds you and no matter how much you try to take it off, you can’t fix a severed optic nerve. There is nothing that can restore the sight once the nerve is severed.
“I have hope,” Felix finally uttered. “I read this,” he gently shook the bible, “and I try to do what’s right. In the bible, Jesus is a sinless human, but we’re not like that. We’re bound to sin and fall into temptation at one point or another.” 
“But we’re made flawless in God’s image. So why does…” Your voice cut off as a lump formed in your throat. 
You knew it was dumb. He believed what he believed and that was that. It wasn’t your place to change it, but you just didn’t understand. How could someone so easily pretend that everything was okay? The world was on fire. Sin was everywhere. How didn’t it hurt him as much as it hurt you? 
“I have those days too, you know.” He shifted the thin black string that was glued into the book binding. The thick book closed with a soft thud. The string marked the last page he was on.
“There’s a lot of nasty stuff out there, so I read the bible. I utter prayers and I believe because I have to believe that something happens to cruel people. I have to believe that the monsters will get what they deserve when it’s all said and done.” 
“I’m not perfect and I don’t claim to be. In fact, I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be flawed, I want to be forced to change, I want to be challenged, so I can grow. What is this life if not a constant chance to stride to be better? To do more? To be a decent person?” 
One of his hands slipped into yours. Warm fingers curled around your palm and his thumb slid along the backside of your hand. “Some days, it’s a lot for me too. I think there’s a lot we don’t understand, but this makes sense for me.” 
“You really believe that sinning sends you to hell?” 
“I don’t think God will send you to hell if you tell a little white lie now and then, but I think he will if you like to be an asshole on a daily basis. I don’t know for sure, I’m not God. This book has been rewritten so many times, but I like to think that the theme is the same.” 
“I worry that the deceased people I love are burning. I worry that they’re lost on the other side somehow. I worry about death. I worry about…” Your eyes slipped shut, but a tear fell through. “I worry about everything.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. One of the greatest things about life is that you can pick whatever you want. You can be who you want to be and believe in whatever you want to. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not.” He reached up and gently wiped the tear with his thumb. 
“You’re not going to break up with me and damn me to hell if I don’t believe in your god?” Your eyes opened to face him. 
A small smile tugged at his face and he shook his head. “That’s not who I am. As long as you’re not being a jerk and you’re happy, then why should I care? It’s not up to me to control you and you shouldn’t let anyone dictate things like that.” 
“You’ve got a good heart and a good head on your shoulders.” His hand reached up towards your face. Your breath caught in your throat and you fell hard into that pool of warm molasses. 
The sweetness of honey, warm molasses, and gentle understanding. Why couldn’t we have more of it? The kindness, the selflessness, the happiness that one inspired in others? As you stared into his eyes, you wished more people could be like him. 
“I want you to be happy. If you want to ask questions about God, I’ll try to answer them. If you don’t, that’s okay too.” He shrugged, “it’s not a big deal.” 
“How do you stay so positive when there’s so much evil in the world?” 
“I want no part of it. I like to think that maybe if I’m kind and I treat people how I want to be treated, maybe it’ll make a difference somewhere. Maybe I’ll change someone somewhere. The world could use more kindness.” 
His hand gently cupped your cheek. More tears were slipping out and he brushed them away. “There’s a lot of evil in this world, but there’s a lot of goodness too. Kindness doesn’t have to be some huge thing. It can be gifted to people in a variety of ways.” 
“Like yesterday,” he smiled, “a little girl was outside with a lemonade stand. She made signs and everything. I bought a cup of lemonade and then put a little extra money in her tip jar.”  
“She was excited and she said she was raising money for a new bike. She was so excited, she took off into her house with her pigtails bobbling.” He laughed at the memory of it. “It was so cute and it was just a simple thing, you know?” 
“That’s really sweet,” you finally responded with a sniffle. You reached up and brushed away another tear. The story pulled you from your darkened thoughts for a brief moment. 
“Life doesn’t always have to be so bad. Little things like that make a tiny difference in someone else’s life. You never know who you’ll meet or what life you’ll change with actions like that. Kindness is the best superpower that a person can have.” 
“Kindness isn’t a superpower.” 
“Hey! To me it is! I’m going to get a cape and everything. Put a logo right here.” He pounded on his chest with a fist. “Anyone can be a superhero with some kindness and understanding.” 
“Uh-huh.” 
His eyes narrowed at the sarcasm. “You don’t believe me? Hmm, that’s funny because if I said that I could cheer you up even more by offering to make my brownies…” 
“Anyone can be a superhero with kindness.” You nodded vigorously and quickly wiggled away. You squirmed to the edge of the bed and stood up. “Right, okay, let’s go.” 
He grinned and put his bible to the side. He started walking towards the door, but he stopped when your wrist captured his. A face of confusion met yours and you leaned forward. 
The sweetness of honey, warm molasses, and gentle understanding; it radiated through your body as your lips met his. 
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