After reading the prompts i would like to ask for hongjoong
"there are some things that no one teaches you, love."
Thank you so much
Have a wonderful day/night
❤️
joong x reader
: 1.3k words, fluff, domestic :
a/n: thank you for the request! ah i really loved writing this (╥ᆺ╥；)♡ i hope you have a lovely day/night as well! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Hongjoong had been learning all his life. First the alphabet and all the different sounds that animals made, lessons that carried the smell of apple juice-boxes and the sound of building blocks tumbling down. Then literature and algebra, formulas for essays and equations that he'd long since forgotten in lieu of the memories of studying them, powered by energy drinks and instant ramen. Most recently came the ins and outs of music, composition and writing, subjects that were infinite and that he would no doubt go on learning about for the rest of his life.
All the different things he'd learned over the years had come in stages and all carried with them their own special shine, holding special spaces in his brain like boxes full of beloved bric-a-brac stacked in the sunlit corner of an attic. The other kind of lessons came and went with his experiences – how to show his friends he loved them, how to move past disappointments without lingering for too long, how to keep himself from burning out. These were things that came without a learning system, things that advice and his own sore heart had taught him. Regardless of how the lessons came about, he was sure for a time that he had learned all he needed to get by. That was, until he met you.
No classroom and chalkboard had taught him how his heart would skip a painful beat when he saw you smiling or laughing. No late night talk with his brother or mother had warned him to watch out for how he'd ache when he caught you trying to learn the recipes for his favourite foods. No lecture or book held the knowledge of how to deal with the urge to call you at random times of the day to tell you about an oddly-shaped stain on the pavement or the way the sun shone through an overcast sky.
There seemed to be so much to you. You were vaster than the space beyond the Earth's atmosphere and deeper than the Mariana Trench, holding in every blink of your eyes more knowledge than every encyclopedia and research paper combined. If he could, he'd watch you for the rest of his life, casting aside everything else he'd learned so that he could learn the secrets of the universe just from being in your presence.
Waking up beside you on a Sunday morning, Hongjoong felt the first breath of the day get caught in his throat when he turned over and saw you laying beside him. The skin beneath your eyes was speckled with mascara from the night before and you were still wearing the jewellery you'd worn out to the bar (a ring your best friend had given you as a graduation gift and a necklace he'd given you last Valentine's, a pairing of the two people you loved most you'd told him when you were putting them on). Slowly, so as not to disturb you, he pushed himself upright and reached out to touch your forehead with a shy knuckle. The action reminded him of a priest baptising a child, but he was surprised as always by how he felt as though he was the one being blessed by you rather than the other way around.
He padded through your apartment, taking note of his possessions scattered around on every surface. Some of his bracelets left next to your house keys in the bowl by the door, a few notebooks nestled among your collection of novels. In the kitchen his favourite mug was upside down next to yours, drying by the sink in a pool of water, and when he glanced at the coffee table he saw his hoodie left on the loveseat, worn by him and used as a blanket by you when you fell asleep watching TV. All of these items seemed to him like displays in a museum, so amazing that he hardly viewed them as real objects. He smiled and let out a soft, awed breath.
After the cocktails and beers you'd shared last night he wasn't sure you'd want breakfast this morning, but still he went about making coffee and slicing bread for toast. He'd make you breakfast every morning if he could and would never complain if you didn't take a single sip or bite. He was satisfied just at the thought of putting food on your table for you to eat, satisfied that he knew how many sugars you liked in your hot drinks and satisfied that you liked to brag to your friends that he knew just how much butter to put on your toast. Nobody had taught him these things, nobody had quizzed him on them, and yet they carried the weight of the world in a way that nothing else did.
He hummed softly as he put out two plates on the counter, the morning chill inviting goosebumps to rise on the skin of his forearms. Steam rose from the coffee as he filled your mug and then his (always yours and then his) and he bathed in its warmth like it was steam in a sauna. He had been through this routine many times, making coffee for his group members the morning after a harrowing schedule and soaking in the silence of an apartment before the day began, but standing in your kitchen it all felt brand new. The view from your window, as mundane and familiar as it was, still seemed awe-inspiring as he watched passerbys going about their lives. He wondered where they were heading, and if any of them knew all of the things he'd learned from being with you.
Buttering toast and tipping teaspoons of sugar into mugs of coffee, Hongjoong found himself sinking further and further into the quicksand of his life with you and never once felt the need to struggle against its pull.
Your figure filled the doorway to the living room just as Hongjoong set down your two mugs of coffee on the table. A smile played on your lips, eyes still sleepy as they watched him walk towards you. Without a word he wrapped his arms around you, both of you swaying languidly from side to side, dancing to music that nobody else could hear. You smelled of toothpaste, lingering perfume, and salty lime wedges. He breathed you in like he was coming up for air.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked, smoothing a hand over the top of your head. You hummed softly, leaning into his touch.
"Like a rock," you answered, kissing his chin. He smiled at the feeling of your lips on his skin, knowing he'd carry it with him for the rest of the day, his wandering fingers always coming back to touch the first spot you'd kissed that day. "What about you?"
"Just fine," he mumbled.
The two of you parted, though your fingertips lingered on the small of Hongjoong's back the way he'd learned they loved to do. You saw the coffee and toast on the coffee table and smiled once again, this time laughing softly. Leaning into him, you kissed his cheek with a smile still on your lips.
"Smells amazing," you hummed. Hongjoong followed you as you threw yourself onto the couch, landing with a happy sigh. He sat beside you and watched as you took your first bite of toast and then your first sip of coffee. He sat and watched you while his own coffee cooled, eyes taking in everything from the way you licked crumbs from your lips to the way you breathed in the smell of the coffee before you drank from it. Everything was endearing in its own way, and he noted each and every action down to keep with him. He pressed a kiss to your temple and thought to himself how appropriately named the warm spot on your head was – temple.
He looked at your empty ring finger curled against your mug and wondered when it would be right to put his impression there. Just like everything else, he supposed he'd figure it out in time. Maybe love just wasn't something meant to be taught.
The smell of waffles wafted into your room from the kitchen, waking you from a restless sleep. You rolled over onto Yeosang's side of the bed, pressing your face into his pillow and breathing in the scent of his shampoo and skincare products, your heart fluttering happily in your chest. There was nothing you wanted more than to stay there forever, wrapped up in a bubble of warm sheets and the scent of your lovely boy, but you couldn't resist the smell of breakfast or the sound of Yeosang's soft humming any longer. With a grunt, you pulled yourself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen.
"Morning, baby," you greeted Yeosang through a yawn. He sing-songed back a soft 'morning', giggling when you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You squeezed him close and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling your nose against the comfy fabric of his oversized sweater. "You doin' dishes already?"
"Well I wanted them to be done before you woke up," he explained, squirting more lemon scented dish soap onto a bowl. "So you wouldn't feel like you had to do them to pay me back for the waffles."
You rolled your eyes, swaying slowly from side to side with Yeosang.
"I can't believe you made me waffles," you mumbled. "You're gonna give me cavities, you know that?"
Yeosang just shook his head, cheeks turning pink as he held back a smile. As he set the bowl aside and reached for a dish towel, the sleeve of his ridiculously large sweater slid down his arm and revealed a puffy, red mark that made you frown.
"What happened there, Yeo?" you asked.
"Where?" Yeosang asked, quickly moving his arm back so that his sleeve slid down again. You felt him tense in your hold, clearly pretending not to know what you were talking about as he stood stock-still, waiting to see if you would move on. You sighed and pulled your arms away from his waist.
"Come on, Yeo, let me see," you urged him, keeping your voice as gentle and reassuring as possible. Yeosang turned his head to look at you, pouting for a beat before he turned around and lifted his sleeve to reveal what you'd seen earlier.
"I just burned myself on the waffle iron earlier, it's nothing," he mumbled, looking down at his feet while you held his hand and examined the nasty looking burn. You rubbed your thumb back and forth against his palm in an attempt to soothe both Yeosang and yourself.
"Let me put some ointment on it," you said, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his wrist.
"It's fine, baby, really-"
"Come on, you made me waffles," you insisted, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Let me take care of you too."
With a shy smile and red cheeks Yeosang finally let up, whispering 'okay then' and laughing when you took off to find your first aid kit.
With the morning sunshine streaming through the windows you carefully smoothed ointment over the burn on Yeosang's arm, watching his expression to make sure you weren't accidentally hurting him. The whole time he watched you right back, chewing on his lip while he smiled at you.
"Does it hurt?" you asked, pressing a feather-light kiss to the red, sore mark when you were done. Yeosang tilted his head to the side and shrugged.
"Just stings, mostly," he admitted. After a moment of silence he looked away from you, and through a pout began to speak again, his voice quieter this time. "I didn't want you to see it since... A lot of people already say I'm clumsy and clueless, so I didn't want you to think the same."
You felt your heart flutter in your chest for the second time that morning as you watched Yeosang pretend to be wildly interested in a stain on the countertop. Your beautiful boy, always worrying more than he had to. Easing his sleeve up so that it wouldn't roll down over his burn, you took a step closer to him and kissed his birthmark, watching fondly as the skin beneath it glowed and blushed afterwards.
"I'd never think that about you, silly," you reassured him, stroking a fingertip down his forehead and the tip of his nose. "You're my gorgeous boyfriend who makes me waffles in the morning. Helping you with a burn won't make me think any less of you."
Yeosang smiled, eyes darting around for a while before he made eye contact with you again. He closed the space between you both with a sweet kiss, sweeter than the waffles and syrup waiting for you on the kitchen table, sweeter than the orange-yellow sunlight pouring through the windows, and sweeter than the smell of his shampoo lingering on your bedsheets.
When you pulled away from each other there was a wide, giddy smile on your lips. Yeosang kissed you once again, quickly this time, and gave your waist a fond squeeze.
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