Felix Centric One Shots

Forever with You (Jilix)

"Bound by fate, sealed in blood—forever starts now."

Felix had walked these streets for centuries. He had seen them change, watched the buildings grow taller, the people move faster, the world evolve while he remained the same. Immortal. Eternal. But even with his family—his brothers, turned in moments of near death—he felt something was missing.

Love.

Not the kind he had for Chan, who had been the first, dying under the brutal Australian sun. Or Minho, whose body had been broken by cruelty. Or Changbin, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin, all of whom he had saved from death's grasp and given eternity instead. They were his family. His companions. But not his mate. Not the one who would make the endless nights feel warm.

And then, on a biting winter evening, he heard him.

A voice, soft but sure, weaving through the cold air like a lifeline.

Felix stopped walking. So did the others, following his gaze to the figure on the corner.

A young man, no older than his brothers had been when he turned them. Wrapped in a worn-out hoodie, fingers trembling as they strummed a guitar, voice cracking slightly but still beautiful. He had a sign beside him, scrawled in messy handwriting: "Jisung. Just trying to make it through the night."

Felix felt something shift inside him.

Chan was the first to speak. "He's good."

"He's freezing," Hyunjin murmured, wrapping his own coat tighter around himself as if feeling the cold for the stranger.

Minho sighed. "He's going to get sick."

Felix barely heard them. His feet moved before he thought, carrying him closer. The boy—Jisung—looked up, startled by the sudden audience.

"You guys have any requests?" Jisung asked, lips quirked up despite the cold. His breath curled in the air like smoke.

Felix shook his head. "We're taking you inside."

Jisung blinked. "Huh?"

Changbin crouched down, eyeing the thinness of his hoodie. "You look like you haven't eaten in a while."

Jisung snorted. "Okay, weird. You guys in some kind of... good Samaritan gang?"

Seungmin huffed. "If we were, we'd have jackets."

Jeongin, always the softest, reached a hand out. "Just let us help."

Jisung hesitated. His fingers twitched over the guitar strings. But then, finally, he nodded.

"Alright," he said, voice lighter than before. "But if this turns into a cult recruitment thing, I'm running."

Minho smirked. "No promises."

As they led him toward the warm glow of the nearby coffee shop, Felix glanced at Jisung's face, at the way his eyes lit up at the mention of food, the way his lips moved even when he wasn't speaking, as if he always had a song on his tongue.

And something settled inside him.

Maybe, after a thousand years, he had finally found what he was looking for.

The coffee shop was warm, smelling of roasted beans and cinnamon, a stark contrast to the icy streets outside. The barista gave their group a wary glance—probably because they all looked too well-dressed to be hanging around a street musician—but didn't say anything as they claimed a booth near the back.

Jisung hesitated before sitting, like he wasn't sure if he should. Felix nudged him gently. "Sit."

Jisung flopped down onto the seat across from him, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Okay, so... what's the catch?"