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For the domestic prompt list, the baby proofing / cover the edge of the table one with cheol, please! 💖

Word count: 717

Pairing: cheol x reader

Prompt: covering the sharp part of the table when they pass so they don’t hit their hip

Cheol looked over his shoulder at you from the stove as you walked into the kitchen, smile growing on his face at your sleepy eyes and rumpled pajamas. The smile froze and became a grimace as time slowed down and he leapt forward on agile, practiced feet, just barely shoving his hand between your hip and the sharp edge of the counter before you banged into it. He swears his blood pressure has gone up since you started dating. You have a certain... lack of spatial awareness, to put it nicely. 

When you first got together, he'd noticed you flinching every time he squeezed your hip or your elbow or your waist, which was one of his favorite boyfriend privileges.

Cheol thought you might just be a bit self conscious, or maybe you weren't into casual touching, or maybe you weren't into casual touching when it was him. He worried, for a little bit, that the last one was the case, and stopped all of his little touches so abruptly that you even asked him about it, asked if you did something wrong.

He'd tripped over his own feet rushing to explain himself; it hadn't occurred to him for even a second that you'd blame yourself, and he was near desperate in his attempt to set the record straight. 

“Baby, baby, no! You didn’t do anything wrong, I just- I realized you winced whenever I would pinch or squeeze you somewhere, especially your hips, and I thought you didn’t like it so I stopped,” Cheol explains, hands resting gently on your shoulders and eyes brimming with apologies. 

You’d looked confused though, like you hadn’t expected that response, and he tracks your eyes as they move up and to the side before you tug down one side of your pajama shorts and poke at your hip. 

An annoyed, pained sound leaves your lips, and now Cheol is the one confused. You poke at the same spot again, hissing this time, and Cheol is quick to grab your hands in his and pull them to his chest. 

“Babe, why’d you do it again if it hurt the first time?” He sighs with just a touch of exasperation. 

“I wanted to be sure,” You respond defensively, shoulders rising with your brows, “Sometimes bruises just appear on me and I don’t know where they come from, or that they’re even there until someone touches them. I don’t really touch my own hips that much, and I didn’t even realize I was flinching until you told me just now,” a shrug finishes off your sentence, your mouth scrunching to the side as if to say ‘what can be done.’

It wasn’t until after Cheol moved in with you that he figured out where the bruises were coming from, and what exactly could be done about them. Just in the first week, he’d heard you bump into the counter with a swear three times, explaining the hip bruises. In the first month, you ran into the edge of your tall dresser seven times, explaining the tender spots on your waist. In the first year, he lost count of how many times you hit your elbow on door frames and the fridge and the shower wall and other random hard surfaces. 

So Cheol started shadowing you around the house when he could, sliding his hand around your hip before it could knock into the counter, pulling you gently to the side before you walked right into the dresser, cupping his fingers over your elbows before they impacted literally anything in the house. He got better and better as time went on, predicting and preventing your clumsiness with near perfect accuracy, and got to indulge in his little touches both during and after his interventions. 

However, he also learned that you can be unpredictable sometimes and you’ll always (unintentionally) find a way to bang into something, as evidenced by the way he just had to launch himself across the kitchen to stop you from slamming into the counter.

Cheol can’t say he minds though, he likes being able to protect you in these little ways, and he especially likes the bashful smile you send him every time he puts his hands on you, whether it’s to stop you from getting hurt or to feel you up. 

Now if he could just figure out how to stop you from stubbing your toes, he’d be golden.