22:17 - Y.jh

22:17 - y.jh

“please?” you plead, clasping your hands together. your fiance looks down at you with a stern composure as you continue to look up at him with those wide, pleading eyes. he sighs, pinching his nose bridge.

“fine.”

within 5 minutes, you’re straddling jeonghan’s lap, your tongue stuck out in concentration as a variety of hair pins, stickers and clips were littered around his long, black hair — the long black hair he grew out for about 5 months now. you couldn’t help but smile widely from how adorable he looked.

“you’re such a kid.” jeonghan scoffs. despite scowling in his seat, jeonghan couldn’t help but feel his heart double in size, the warmth exploding in his chest. as you continue to work on your ‘masterpiece’, his hands came down to rest on your hips, his soft thumbs caressing your skin softly.

“how could i help it?” you mindlessly answer. “you look so pretty with them.” jeonghan’s face flushes as he diverts his eyes, opting to play with the ends of your shirt.

the cold metal of his engagement ring against your skin makes you shiver a little, your heartbeat quickening from how flustered you felt as he looks up at you — admiring the way your eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, admiring the way your fingers delicately brushed through his hair as you looked for another spot to stick a 3D heart sticker on his head full of sparkly accessories; admiring the love of his life.

jeonghan mulls over your words, the comfortable silence in your living room prolonging until he cheekily smiles up at you.

“oh? if it makes someone look pretty, then i bet you’ll look gorgeous. i’m doing it on you next.” he grins, lightly pinching your thigh playfully, making you roll your eyes.

time passes by with the both of you just sitting in the comforting atmosphere as you continue to work on jeonghan’s hair, adding some final touches before you felt the sleep kicking in. you were nodding off every few minutes as he held you, his grip on you tightening the slightest bit to keep you from falling off to the side of the couch.

“okay, we’re going to bed.” jeonghan mumbles, carefully standing up as he tries not to wake you, carrying you to your shared bedroom and setting you down on the bed. quietly getting under the bedsheets himself, jeonghan scoots closer to you as you instinctively reach out for him, immediately nuzzling into him. jeonghan softly smiles to himself as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him as you subconsciously find warmth in him, a smile ghosting upon your lips as you fall into a deep sleep.

you couldn’t wait to do this to him every single day.

wc. 460

tags 🏷️ —

@arafilez @etherealyoungk @fairyhaos @gyuguys @georgia-hong @hannieheartuu @haowrld @kyeomyun @saiidahyunie @starshuas @seuonji @shieunviya @welcometomyoasis @wqnwoos @wheeboo @yoonzinuhh

networks 🔗—

@preciousillusions-net @cacaokpop-fics @caratsland @k-labels

SVT WORKS

lmk if you want to be added/removed from my taglist !

ⓒ lvlystars

Hiya! Glad to see you’re back for a little - hope you’ve been doing well! I’ve also been on a SVT kick recently, so I’m thinking a group text au where Cheol scolds the reader and 2/3 other members (your choice!) for doing something chaotic? Maybe like forgetting another member (also your choice!) in an Ikea a couple hours away and coming back without him, or pranking a blonde member by putting temporary neon hair dye in his shampoo? Something silly, if you’re up for it! Thank you ❤️

A/N: Hello love! It took me a bit, but here it is. I had fun while writing it hehe hope you like it!

𝘼 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙨

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚜 𝚡 𝚐𝚗!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚏𝚝. 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗)

𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

angst 16 and fluff 32 with jeonghan please? and that will be my last one haha i'm just so happy that your requests are open. and i just wanted to say thank you so much for your service really, you are legitimately one of my favorite writers on here and i love your blog so much. also you're really sweet and friendly and i appreciate u! <33 have fun writing and don't put too much pressure on yourself, take care, love you 💖

aah, thank you so much!! it took a while but i hope you'll like this ♡

Jeonghan (Seventeen) | Scaring them + “It’s okay. I’m here.” angst/comfort | 0.9k | gn!reader

“I-”

“Shut up.”

You’re seething on the opposite end of the sofa, your knees hugged to your chest and your body so tense he’s afraid something in it might snap. He can barely see you in the faint light coming in from the kitchen. Jeonghan’s just helpless about what to do now.

He realizes, in hindsight, that the prank was stupid. You did mention you like horror movies, that you enjoyed being scared sometimes. Still, he should’ve known better and he’s angry with himself that he didn’t. It’s dark, it’s late, you’ve had a long day, and already had to walk through the dark streets, of course you’d be on edge, and then he jumped out at you from the shadows in your home before you could turn on the lights. 

It’s funny when Mingyu shrieks and pouts and complains, but he sees now it’s not so funny when you’re the one screaming and trembling, pushing him away when he tries to hug you and make up. You won’t even look at him.

He pushes his luck and cautiously moves to sit a little closer. You don’t pay him any mind so he monitors your reactions and continues until he’s sitting right next to you without really touching you. You glare at him when he opens his mouth, and from this close he can see the corners of your eyes are red and you look like you’re about to cry. His heart drops, and Jeonghan can’t resist the urge to hug you, to touch you, but he can slow it down.

To his surprise, you let him wrap his arms around you, you hug him back too, slowly uncurling from your previous position. He maneuvers you until his back is against the armrest and you’re almost lying on top of him, clinging to him with desperation that matches his own. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers, tucking your head under his chin after he plants a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s not okay, because you’re here,” you counter. You have every right to be upset, he acknowledges, and he deserves this but it feels like someone is trying to crush his heart in their fist. 

“I know, I’m so stupid,” he agrees, squeezing you a little tighter in hopes you won’t push him away again.

“Extremely stupid,” you hiss.

“Dumbest person alive~” he sing-songs and while you don’t laugh, you scoff and that’s alright for now. At least you’re not struggling to get out of his embrace.

He holds you tightly and when you don’t say anything more, Jeonghan starts humming the melody as softly as he can. His hand rubs circles over your back, soothing you until the tension melts from your body. He closes his eyes and gets a little lost in the feeling of holding you, chasing away the unpleasant memory of you fighting against him, of you shaking in fear in his hold. That’s something he doesn’t wanna experience again, much less so when he knows it was his own doing.

But then you start moving and you want him to let go of you - he can’t stop the quiet whine that spills from his lips. You pause and everything is still for a moment before you sigh.

“I just want to see you, Han,” you explain and pull away just enough to look at his face. He gives you an apologetic smile, adjusting his position so you’re both comfortable and he can keep holding you. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally gets to apologize. He nearly melts when you shift in his arms just so you could put your forehead against his. 

“I know you are,” you accept, “So I hope you won’t-”

“I won’t. I’m never doing it again, I promise,” he quickly reassures you, and the only thing that stops him from pulling you flush against his body again is your hand against his chest. You frown seeing how quickly he freezes.

“I just wanna see you when we talk,” you tell him again and he quickly agrees, settling against the pillows again. “I’m not leaving, Jeonghan.”

He nods with a sigh and brings one hand to your face, gently stroking your face. “I’m just really sorry I scared you so much. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” you press a kiss to his cheek, “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

He hums, and you know he won’t listen to you, so you make a note to remind him again tomorrow. For now, you think you both just need some time. You talk some more, ask each other about your days, and when he starts getting too distracted, you snuggle closer to him under the excuse of being tired. 

Nobody is as doting as Jeonghan, more so when he knows he has something to make up for. He cuddles you for a few more minutes, careful to keep you nice and warm, rubbing your arms and back and whispering in his soft voice. He helps you to bed, tucks you in and gets you anything you need - glass of water, a little snack if you get hungry during the night, he sets up your phone to be charged. But just one word from your lips and he’s under the covers with you, holding you again. When he promises to protect you, you know you’re as safe as you could ever be.

they luv their woozi 😭🫶

for the fake title game: wrecked

Title: Wrecked

Pairing: Junhui & Reader

Genres: angst, dystopia-ish au, android au, hanahaki-ish au

Words: 2.4k (00:10)

Notes: hoverport is my future-y word for flying car

Warnings: blood, implied major character death

-

In pretty much every sense of the word, the android you find off the corner of fifth and March is a wreck.

It's nothing you haven't seen before -- androids have always been like punching bags (or stress balls) to the more well-off that can afford to replace them. So it's really no surprise to find one nearly torn to shreds in the heart of the Ruby district, or, as you like to call it, rich bitch central.

The thing has been utterly decimated, and you almost pass it by on your routine nightly search for spare parts, but your eyes catch on its chest, where something bright pink shines through the damage. It looks beyond a lost cause, but... damn, is that a 301 New Gen processor? And, hold on... that's the new artificial skin grafting formula. Holy shit. This hunk of metal is the newest model of android available to the public -- if you can call the top 1% the public. (You don't.)

Quickly, you fumble for your phone in your pocket and scroll through your contacts.

"Jihoon? Sorry for waking you. Yeah. I need you to bring your truck."

-

It takes you over two months to fix the android to semi-working condition. Most of the time is sucked into finding the right parts -- or, at least, parts that might work as replacements for the insanely expensive parts you'd actually need. Luckily, most of the essential pieces were still intact, if not a little scratched up.

One of the arms was unsalvageable, so you scrapped it completely and replaced it with one you already had in the shop. It's not an ordinary android arm, though. You'd found it in another one of your searches some years ago and stripped it down to practice your patching and soldering on. It still works just fine -- you hope -- but the shiny grey surface looks harsh against the android's fancy grafted skin.

It's almost disorienting how real the new skin formula feels when you touch it. Imperfect.

You try not to linger on that.

Pressing your hands on both of the android's temples, you power it on. A quiet whirring fills your ears in the silence of the shop, and you drop your arms.

The android's eyes don't flutter when they open. You're met with two brown eyes, one slightly lighter since you had to replace that, too. It's less disorienting than you expected it to be. More warm.

Because as soon as the android's sensors process you in front of him, it smiles.

For a few seconds, you're completely entranced by its smile. Android smiles aren't supposed to look that... real. Right? You know tech designers have tried -- for years -- but you don't think one has ever looked as nice as this.

Not important.

You shake your head and clear your throat. "Commence startup," you say as clearly as possible.

"Commencing." Its voice isn't like you expected, either, though you don't really know what it is you were expecting. You watch silently as it stands impossibly straighter and closes its eyes for a few moments. "Startup complete." It opens its eyes and holds out its hand, palm up. "Please enter identification."

From your back pocket, you pull out your ID card and press it into the android's palm, waiting for the usual beep of recognition. The sound is softer than what you normally hear from retail androids.

"Understood," it says, dropping its arm to its side. "I am Android Model Number 6.81-4. I am happy to help." After that, it just stands still, its lips lifted in that warm smile.

This sounds slightly more like the androids you're used to. You're just thrown off by that weirdly realistic face.

"Do you have a name?" you ask, unable to remember the model number it just told you.

It blinks. "Unable to recall."

"Then commence data recovery, please."

"Commencing."

While you wait for the android to retrieve its memories -- which you hope goes smoothly, considering the not-so-hopeful condition of one of its memory chips -- you move around your shop and clean up a little. Jihoon will have your head if he comes to the morning shift and finds it in such a mess. Occasionally, you'll twist your head to peek at the android from across the room. Even though its expression is neutral while it processes its own data, you can't seem to erase that smile from your mind. The power of money, huh.

"Data recovery complete."

You pop up from where you were crouched down and rifling through some drawers. The android smiles at you from across the worktable. Just as you open your mouth to ask the same question you posed before, it does the same.

"My name is Junhui."

-

"Damn," Jihoon says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. "He's beautiful."

"I know, right?" You watch Jihoon ogle Junhui, a huge, proud smile on your face. "I still can't believe I found him."

Junhui simply stands still under Jihoon's gaze. His signature smile has yet to go anywhere -- you're beginning to think it's his default expression.

"I don't know if you'll be able to sell him in this condition, though."

You frown. Before Jihoon said that, you weren't even considering selling Junhui -- you'd worked months on him, you couldn't just give him away. Still, it's a scratch at your pride to say that nobody would want to buy your hard work.

"Are you kidding? He works perfectly," you defend, even though you're not totally sure of that. You haven't gone through everything to check yet.

Jihoon shrugs. "Yeah, but with that arm and the grafting damage, what can he do better than a cheaper labour android?"

"Junhui."

The android looks at you, and his smile widens almost imperceptively. "Yes?"

"What features does your model have that previous models don't?"

He answers without hesitation. "Android Model Number 6.81-4 is, at the current time, the closest android model to a human being. I am able to comprehend emotional stimulants and react accordingly. My facial expressions are programmed to mimic that of a human's, and are more accurate than any pre-dating model. For example, when I am asked to process new data, I may furrow my brow and/or slightly open my mouth."

This is the first time you're hearing any of this, but you turn to Jihoon with a victorious smirk. "See?"

Jihoon isn't bothered by you. Instead, he looks intrigued as he eyes down Junhui. "Can you process human emotions?"

A blink. "Yes."

"Elaborate," Jihoon pushes.

"As I am able to comprehend emotional stimulants, I can come to a logical conclusion as to how a human would react to a certain stimulant. For example, 'death' is a stimulant for sadness."

Jihoon crosses his arms. "And you know what sadness is?"

"Yes." Both you and Jihoon are a little surprised by the way Junhui's lips turn down into a frown. It's almost like he's offended by Jihoon insinuating he doesn't know something -- must be one of the mimicked facial expressions he mentioned. You hold your breath at what he might say next. "Sadness is defined as the condition or quality of being sad."

The breath seeps out, and you can't tell if you're relieved or disappointed. It's a terrifying thought -- having machines so advanced as to understand human feelings. Yeah. You're relieved.

"Do you know what being sad is?" Jihoon continues to prod, and you're a bit concerned at how into this he is.

"Feeling or showing sorrow; unhappy."

"And happiness? What does that feel like?"

Junhui's frown deepens, and his brow furrows, just like he spoke about earlier. "I... know the stimulants which results in happiness."

"Then--"

"Jihoon." You put a stop to Jihoon's interrogation with a hand wrapped around his arm. "Stop. You're going to fry the processor I took weeks to figure out."

-

When you're alone with him, Jihoon whispers, "I'm sorry.

"I just don't like it. They keep making androids closer and closer to humans... it's not natural. It freaks me out."

You brush him off with a casual smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just go back to fixing your precious hoverports, why don'tcha?

-

After Jihoon heads home for the night, sore and grumpy after lying under hoverports all day, you decide to take Junhui back home with you. Before you turned him on, it was way too inconvenient, but now he can just walk alongside you.

It's mostly quiet on the walk back. You feel a lot safer under the blanket of night with Junhui next to you -- normally, the streets at night are more daunting.

"Were you going to sell me?"

Androids don't ask questions. You don't really process before you answer him.

"Nope."

Too busy stuck in your head, trying to understand why or even how Junhui asked you something so unlike any android you've ever interacted with, you don't notice the way Junhui's lips curl up or the word that slips quietly from him.

"Good."

-

You expect life with a brand new, better-than-the-rest android at home would be easy. Nope.

Every day, you learn something new about Junhui, and every time you do, he seems to act that much more human. It's scary at first, but you grow to get used to it -- his metal arm is a good reminder of what he is, even if his face doesn't show it.

-

It's a night like any other night that you cry.

Life sucks, and for one reason or another, you slam your apartment door behind you with tears streaming down your face.

Junhui approaches you at first with his usual smile, but it drops when he sees your condition. You'd feel cared for if you didn't know that's just in his programming.

What you're almost sure is not in his program is hugs.

But he's hugging you anyways.

"Junhui," you mumble, frozen in shock. "What are you doing?"

"Tears are a result of sadness."

"Okay but... what are you doing," you repeat.

His arms don't loosen at all around you. "My data says that humans respond well to this type of touch during moments of duress."

Well, he's not wrong. You don't mind this hug at all, but a thought tickles the back of your mind.

It's all in the data. None of this is real.

-

Of course, your heart doesn't care what your mind thinks.

You walk into the shop after a particularly stressful trade deal to find Jihoon standing next to the hoverport he's been working on.

"Where's Jun?"

Jihoon turns your way and smirks, pointing down at the floor beneath the hoverport. You walk closer and look around the worktable to see Junhui slide out from beneath the hoverport, grease smudged on the coveralls you got him when he started helping you around the shop. He smiles at you, big and bright, and oh fuck.

Not noticing your inner distress, Jihoon holds out a hand to help Junhui stand up -- not that he needs it.

"For an android, he's not too bad."

Not too bad indeed.

-

It starts as a tickle in your throat.

You think you know exactly what it is, but you brush it off as dehydration anyways, and when Junhui questions about it, you just ask him to pass your water bottle.

Jihoon doesn't say anything when you ask him to watch over Junhui the next day, thankful for the extra helping hands while you're out.

The first petals are grey.

Funny, you think. Unnatural flowers for your unnatural love.

Fuck.

-

You can't keep Junhui away for long. He comes home all on his own after three days of staying at the shop, and you don't even have the strength to greet him at the door.

Jihoon stopped accepting your flimsy excuses tonight, and he would've come back with Junhui if it weren't for his respect for your privacy -- one thing that Junhui doesn't have.

He finds you on the floor next to your bed, blood smeared over your chin and clothes.

"You're ill," he states simply as he sits you up. His expression turns into that of concern, and if it didn't hurt so bad, you might just laugh. Damn advanced programming -- making you think he actually cares.

"No shit."

The two words are all it takes for another coughing fit to rack through you, more painful than the last, as is the pattern you've suffered through in the past three days. Grey petals spew from your mouth, partially stained with red. Junhui's eyes dart to them, and you watch in tired amusement as he processes the information.

"Hanahaki disease," he identifies.

You want to say bingo, but you don't.

"My data says that the Hanahaki disease was eradicated over one hundred and fifty years ago."

"Yeah, well. My data--" You hold up stray petals in front of his face. "-- says otherwise. Runs in the family."

Junhui’s brow furrows. “Understood.” A few seconds pass, filled with only the low hum of Junhui’s engine and your shallow breaths. Your eyes are screwed shut from the pain. “I do not know how to help you.”

You didn’t think he would.

“Jun... you know what it’s like to want, right?”

He blinks. “No. Wanting is a human trait. I have no desires or needs.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You see him frown and open his mouth, probably to tell you that he can’t be wrong, but you cut him off. “It might be a little different, but you have your own wants, Jun. Your programming makes you want to help me. That’s why you came home today even when I told you not to. You decided to come here on your own because you wanted to. Get it?”

You can almost see the metaphorical cogs spinning behind his eyes. “Understood.”

“What you don’t know is how to be selfish,” you tell him. “Humans want what we can’t have, and that’s what makes us weak.”

Junhui’s eyes glance over at the bloodstained petals once more.

“Hanahaki disease is caused by unrequited love. You are suffering because you want something you cannot have. Understood.”

You can tell he’s still searching his databases for ways to help you, but it’s no use -- too late for anything now.

“Are you in love with someone?” he asks.

You smile. “Yes. Madly.”

“Then stop.”

You laugh.

You laugh and you cry and you cry some more because you’re in love with a fucking robot and have flowers growing in your lungs.

“I want you to live.” It’s the first time he’s used that word. Want.

You look up at him. At his two brown eyes, one lighter than the other. At his fake skin and fake frown and fake heart. You want to bring your hand up to his cheek, but you don’t have the strength.

“Then I guess we both want things we can’t have.”

Petty ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst/fluff Summary: Joshua can be a bit petty when he's tired and feels wronged. Even if he's at fault all along. Word count: 2.3k A/N: please get me out of here, i've been in shua brainrot since january and this is once again @hanniedream's fault >:(

Joshua has never hated your bedroom more than he hates it at this moment.

The room is too big. The walls are the wrong color. The windows are too big and it feels like the whole world can see him and laugh at him. The bedroom should be the only room in your house. It wouldn’t be so empty then.

The bed is too big to be sleeping in it alone. It’s cold. The sheets feel like ice around him, no matter how tightly he wraps himself in them, and his arms are empty even though your scent lingers on your pillow. He won’t be as pitiful as hugging it to sleep, he refuses. 

Where are you anyway? 

Pout pulls on his lips without his permission as he strains his ears but he can’t hear a single sound. He checks the clock again, then checks one more time that he’s not seeing wrong. You should be here by now. He accounted for everything - how long your night routine takes, a little snack if you felt like it, the time you’d need to be away from him after the fight, the time you’d waste on thinking whether you should hang onto the resentment or not. You should be here already. You should’ve been here ages ago. So where are you?

It goes against his pride that he gets up and makes his way to the living room where he expects you’d be sulking. And you are there - sleeping soundly.

He huffs in disbelief, hands on his hips as he watches you sleep while he can’t even keep his eyes closed. Does he mean nothing to you? How can you sleep without him?

He has half a mind to wake you up - he walks up to you and leans down, still undecided whether he should do it. What would he say? He can’t admit he can’t sleep without you, so he’d just look like a dick. Besides, you sleeping here means you’re still upset, so you wouldn’t come to bed anyway. Then he notices the dried tears in the corner of your eyes. 

He frowns, any thoughts of waking you up gone from his head. Were you actually mad? The argument wasn’t long or, in his eyes, that big of a deal. True, he was also quite exhausted, so it’s kind of foggy and he knows he was a bit too harsh. He also admits he was in the wrong, a fact he realized during the first two hours of his tossing and turning when he remembered that the events happened differently from what he initially thought. But it wasn’t a big deal anyway… You don’t usually cry over petty arguments. And he knows better than to hope for any sleep now.

Joshua leaves for the bedroom quietly, sighing once he lies down in bed. The pout tugs on his lips again. He feels wronged too. You could’ve just told him instead of immediately getting defensive and calling him wrong when he just didn’t remember at the moment. Why would you cry? Was he really that mean? He doesn’t think he was. He tries to sleep, but over what remains of the night, he can’t get more than a couple minutes of sleep at the time.

Safe to say it didn’t exactly help his sour mood that he didn’t rest at all. As soon as he decides to get up for the day, he struts into the kitchen and starts on boiling the water for his coffee and taking out things to prepare himself breakfast.

“What the fuck, Joshua?” you groan from the adjacent room, voice dripping with annoyance and hostility. Of course the noise would wake you up. And now he can’t exactly explain why he thought he’d get his usual morning greeting - well he didn’t think at all, but now that the routine is broken and not one nice word is spoken to him, he pauses. He swallows uneasily thinking of how it usually goes - waking up with you in his arms or you hovering above him, wishing him a good morning with the sweetest kisses. Not this.

He snaps out of his, his pettiness wavering a little, but not enough. He was in the wrong, but you could’ve explained that to him more yesterday. Not like he was in a state of mind to listen to you, but you could’ve tried… He’s too tired for this.

So he keeps doing his thing, taking out the vegetables to cut. He notices you disappearing into the bedroom, to change and freshen up he supposes. It doesn’t feel great to have you walk away from him without another word.

He’s cutting vegetables when you return. At this point he doesn’t expect much, but he also doesn’t expect you to walk straight past him, barely stop the cupboard door from hitting his head when you take out your mug. He also feels something die inside him when you pour the boiling water into only one mug, making a drink for yourself despite there being enough water for both of you.

His focus is more on you than the knife in his hand, which is not the safest thing when he’s trying to cut the carrot, but he needs to be ready and catch every word you’ll say. Because you need to say something, right? Wrong, apparently. You’re just sitting there sipping your coffee and scrolling on your phone without paying any attention to him. Does he not matter to you?

He wants to get angry, wants to heave a long and angry sigh, slam the knife down and confront you - but that’s not him. It does cross his mind, he just can’t do it. It’d scare you and it’d make him feel like one of those stereotypical angry husbands and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. Opposite of what he should do if he wants to ever have the chance to call himself your husband.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. This situation was ridiculous. He can’t go another day without a proper sleep and he doesn’t think he can get through breakfast with you ignoring him. Was Joshua’s pride really more important than you? No. Of course not. Especially not when it was all so stupid and ultimately his fault. 

“I was wrong,” he sighs, he finally puts the knife down before he can cut his finger off, “I’m sorry.”

He turns around, and after what feels like eternity you’re looking at him. You sigh too, rubbing your eyes. Properly seeing you now, he notices you must’ve had a restless night just like him. It makes the last remains of his pettiness dissipate. He opens his arms cautiously, hoping, wishing… You get up and hug him back, let him hold you as he wraps his arm around your middle and cradles your head with the other one. Finally he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m glad you apologized,” you rub his back, and fortunately you don’t flinch away when he kisses the side of your head. He hums sheepishly, squeezing you a little tighter. “I was really frustrated with you. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you could’ve already apologized yesterday.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought out the issue out of nowhere in the first place. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, just frustrated,” you repeat, “It’s fine now.”

He nods, letting you go just enough that he can kiss you properly. His morning feels much better immediately. You smile at him and he’s wondering why would he ever do anything to threaten that smile. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has you back in his arms, but he’s hungry and he thinks you must be too. “I’ll make breakfast for us, hm?”

You free yourself from his embrace rather than him allowing you to pull away. His reluctance shows in his hands taking hold of yours and bringing them to his lips, lingering. You give him a reassuring smile and only then does he let go. 

What you notice before going back to your chair, before moving from the spot, is Joshua looking at your cup on the table in a way that you can only describe as a puppy watching his favorite toy spinning in the washer. You don’t think he noticed you saw, or that he meant for you to see at all, and it takes a lot not to start laughing. It does give you some satisfaction, though, to know that the argument and his own mistake didn’t leave him unaffected. His shoulders are still slumping and he looks so down you’d think you didn’t make up already. 

“Joshua?” you call his name and he quickly turns his head towards you as soon as he puts the knife down again. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “Should I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please, thank you,” he beams at you, eyes turning into crescents when you kiss his cheek.

You pull out a mug, conscious of his eyes following your every movement. Something about your choice of the piece of ceramics must be not up to his standards if his displeased grunt is any indication. However when you look at him, he only gives you a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest. He grows timid, looking away. You roll your eyes. You’re almost sure you’re being played for attention, but you will give him the benefit of a doubt this time because he seemed genuinely sorry for the fight. It’s cute how he melts into you when you hug him from behind, your hands resting on his stomach. 

“What about the matching ones we got for Christmas instead?” he mumbles almost too quiet for you to hear.

“I already have my own cup though,” you frown.

“You need to make a new one,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna restart this morning,” he explains calmly, “I won’t be an asshole and we’ll have a nice breakfast together with our cute matching cups.”

“You called them cringy before.”

“Don’t ruin the vision,” he warns playfully. You hold his gaze, hoping he’ll cave but he doesn’t. You break first.

“What am I supposed to do with the other cup though?” you laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend, but he’s not done being unreasonable.

“Bring it to me,” his tone is suspicious, so you have no idea why you listen. You get to watch as he downs the rest of your morning drink in a few long gulps and puts the cup in a sink. “There, problem solved.”

“Joshua Hong, you’re insane,” you sigh. You’re smiling though - so it’s his win anyway. He won and now he’ll get to watch you boil more water and prepare coffee for both of you, because you need to match one hundred percent of course. It’s still not the safest to cut vegetables when he’s so distracted but his fragile heart is practically jumping off his chest when you take out the very cheesy matching Christmas cups and set them down. “Stop staring.”

“I need to make sure you’re doing it right,” he teases. He’s happy that everything is fine, happy that his morning returned to normal and happy that-

“Do you think I can’t?” you quirk a brow at him, pausing the preparations. 

He swallows and nearly trips over his over feet closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“No, baby, I’m so sorry,” he frowns, kissing your forehead and lingering there, waiting for your verdict. He hears you sigh and his chest feels thigh.

“You’re so cute, Shua,” there’s a smile in your voice and his heart skips a beat when he hears his nickname, “I’m not upset, I’m just playing with you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he whines, burying his face into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you’re stuck between his body and the counter, trapped in his hug. All you can do is hug him back and press some kisses to his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smile, “How about I finish the coffee, hm? Then I can hug you and cling to you to make up for it.”

“I made you upset first,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes at his sudden self-awareness. He pulls away to look at you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you took advantage of that. I think I deserve a kiss as well.”

You should’ve known it was all a manipulation tactic.

But knowing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you kiss him and smile against his lips as you do when you feel him smile too. He doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill, until he leaves you breathless and chasing after his lips. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coming back for just one more kiss, “Hurry up with the coffee.”

You should scold him. You should remind him that he is the reason why your morning is so messy.

But you don’t. 

Instead you do exactly as he told you and enjoy having him close again once the coffee is done. And you enjoy as Joshua feeds you the first piece of breakfast for a taste test, and you enjoy him pulling out a chair for you, bringing you your plate, and holding your hand the entire time you eat.

Most of all you enjoy his warm embrace when you lay down for a nap that won’t make up for the cold and lonely night, but that feels heavenly nonetheless.