#THE WAY IT MELDS WITH THE HORROR OF PERFECTION. OF THE CONFINES OF YOUR OWN SKIN

[cathedraldecay]

gerard way, horror characters, and androgyny

frank n furter - rocky horror picture show // winslow - phantom of the paradise // nina - black swan // eric draven - the crow

[heycasbutt]

The Best Life

A/N: 5th entry for @cmbingo and this one fills my Future Fic square.

This is also smut adjacent, so again, if that offends you, you can totally skip this one and there will be no hard feelings!

March 14th had been a day nearly 4 years in the making. It was the day you were going to marry your best friend, the love of your life, and the father of your unborn child-Spencer Reid. The two of you hadn’t planned on getting married so soon but when you found out in late December that you were 3 weeks pregnant, Spencer insisted you get married. Not just because you were pregnant but because he loved you, and after talking it over, neither of you wanted to wait. You had been engaged for 2 years and were planning on a July wedding. But here you were, 15 weeks pregnant marrying Spencer Reid. 

“I look like a damn whale!” You whined for the 10th time in as many minutes that morning. 

“You look beautiful sweetheart,” Your mother smiled and secured a delicate necklace around your neck. Your hands came to rest over the lace material of your dress, softly caressing the small bump. 

“I told Spencer we should have just eloped at a courthouse and washed it all down with a can of Coke,” You smiled softly and laughed. The idea came up one night when you had gotten sick of wedding planning. You were sprawled on the couch, magazines scattered around you and Spencer was across the room, reading a book, sipping a can of Coke. 

***

“Why don’t we just elope and wash it down with some pizza and Coke?” You had questioned. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow at you, “You feel like that now but you and I know you’ll regret it later. And besides, Penelope would kill us if we eloped and she didn’t get to help plan our big day!”

“You might be right but I’m sick of planning our wedding,” You whined, crossing the living room and plopping down on Spencer’s lap. His hand came to rub your belly, his lips finding their way to yours, kissing you softly. 

“Tell you what, we have a big wedding but our reception will be filled with all the pizza and soda your little heart can handle,” Spencer kissed your cheek as you nodded in reluctant agreement. 

****

“You know you would regret not having this day if you’d done that,” Your mother echoed the words your fiancé had muttered just a few weeks prior. 

“I know. I know,” You smiled as you touched the delicate necklace around your neck. A gift from Spencer left in your hotel room this morning. The two of you had compromised and settled on a small wedding, at a barn in the country, just the BAU, Spencer’s mother and your parents. A dinner afterwards, and of course, dancing. 

“You just about ready princess?” Your dad walked into the room as you turned around. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God. My little angel. She’s actually getting married,” He hugged you softly and kissed your forehead. 

“Let’s do this, dad,” You smiled through your own tears and took his arm, kissing him on the cheek. 

It was a beautiful ceremony; intimate, and perfect, exactly what you had envisioned. Even Hotch blinked away a few tears while you and Spencer read your vows. Spencer’s vows of course included a statistic about how quickly the average human falls in love. You smiled through your tears again as you slid the gold band on Spencer’s finger and made him yours. Spencer joked that you were going to be dehydrated with all this crying. You smiled and told him to shut up before placing a searing kiss on his mouth.

Dinner was filled with toasts, wishing you and Spencer only the best in life. You had a permanent smile plastered to your face as you gently squeezed Spencer’s hand under the table. 

“I knew from the moment I met you I was going to marry you,” Spencer started “I knew because you were the only girl in the entire FBI that I knew had a TARDIS keychain on your work keys. You also always seemed to have a classic novel on your person. I knew because I watched in horror as you emptied the entire container of sugar into your coffee cup, now the two of us are going to have rotted teeth before we’re 40 with all this sugar. I thought that I couldn’t have been happier than I was the day you agreed to marry me. But when you told me you were pregnant with my baby, our child? That was the happiest day of my life, and then today, when you became mine for the rest of forever, I could hardly contain the joy I felt. I love you Y/N. Here’s to a long and happy life together. The three of us,” Spencer smiled and raised his glass, the room imitated the gesture and you wiped away yet another bout of tears as your husband sat down next to you. 

“I love you,” You whispered and kissed him gently. Spencer’s fingers laced their way through yours and he squeezed your hand gently. Spencer brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.

“I love you most, my love,” Spencer whispered.

Before long, the two of you were heading to the dance floor, Penelope insisted that the one thing you keep was the first dance. 

Spencer pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist, your hand melding perfectly to his. Your free hand came to rest on the back of his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You know, I kind of like you in a tuxedo, Dr. Reid.” You whispered and kissed Spencer. He smiled against your lips and chuckled softly. 

“Well, I kind of like you in a wedding dress, Mrs. Reid,” Spencer smiled and pulled you closer.

“I look like a great white whale,” You groaned softly and looked down at the small bump separating the two of you. 

“Well, I think you look absolutely gorgeous, my beautiful wife.” Spencer smiled and spun you once more as the song ended. 

“Oh you two!!!” Penelope gushed as she ran over and pulled the two of you in for a hug. “My babies are married! My babies are having a baby! I get to be the godmother, right?” 

“We’ll see Pen,” You smiled and slid an arm around Spencer’s waist. 

“Of course you will be,” Spencer countered and kissed your head. “Now, I believe it’s time for the Mrs. and I to go consummate this Union,” Spencer said with a laugh as he pulled you towards the door. 

“You’re so inappropriate, Spence,” You laughed as he gave you one last kiss in front of the guests before opening the car door. 

***

You had been standing in front of the bathroom mirror of the hotel for 20 minutes. Trying to convince yourself you looked mildly sexy in the white negligee and matching thong you’d bought for that night. You looked at all the bumps and dips in your body and wondered why Spencer wanted you, what he saw in you. 

“You doing okay in there baby?” Spencer called from the bed. His bow tie was undone and hanging around his neck as he fiddled with the cuff links on his shirt. The top two buttons on his shirt were undone, finally allowing him to breathe. 

You took a deep breath, smoothed out the feather edged chiffon and opened the door. You shyly stepped into the bedroom, not wanting to make eye contact with Spencer. Surely he saw how disgusting a pregnant woman looked in lingerie. 

“Oh my God. You look like an angel,” Spencer whispered incredulously. Reaching out to pull you close, he ran his hands up your belly to your lace enclosed breasts. The fabric parted slightly as Spencer began to kiss up your body, following the path his hands took. 

Spencer stood up, bending slightly at the knees he picked you up and you eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist. His face buried in your cleavage as he licked, nipped, and sucked at the tender flesh. 

“Oh God Spence!” You moaned breathlessly as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He grunted softly in approval and roughly kneaded your hips. 

“You’re so sexy, you know that right?” Spencer growled low in your ear as he slid a hand down your lace panties, sliding one long finger in your waiting heat. 

You moaned in approval and tugged a little harder on his fawn colored locks. Causing a grunt to slip through his plump lips. 

“S-Spence, Oh Spence!” His name slipped through your lips like a prayer begging to be answered. Only this time, he was the answer. 

Spencer kissed slowly up your body, capturing your lips in a deep kiss before he whispered in your ear, “I can’t wait to feel this glorious pussy wrapped around my cock.”

You groaned softly, hands trailing down his chest to his belt, your fingers worked under the leather to quickly free him from his cotton confinement. 

“I love you,” Spencer whispered against your neck, grunting softly as your hand danced along his length. 

“Wanna show me how much you love me?” You giggled, discarding your panties and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely” He growled in your ear before taking your lips in a searing kiss. 

Married life was the best life. 

[katsitting]

“I am different now.” + harrymort?

AN: I...don’t think this was what you had in mind when you gave me this prompt. My imagination just sort of has a mind of its own. I hope you like it anyway c: There are likely typos.

Rating: E (Explicit)

Warnings: Dubious consent and Explicit Sexual Content.

-----------------------------

"I am different now." Voldemort stated, and Harry froze, unable to comprehend just what the man was saying at all.

I am different now? Harry wanted to scoff, his face twisting into a scowl as he struggled against his bonds. Harry knew the man was lying, there was simply no way that the most powerful sorcerer could erase the damage he had done--and would continue to do--Harry thought.

Harry had been confined for several months since his capture, but he still retained some sort of agency. He wasn't insane, and if Voldemort thought that he was stupid enough to believe any of the words he said, he was clearly not as intelligent as he thought.

Harry would never give in. This was merely another way to break Harry's own desire to resist, and he refused to be cowed by words wrapped in deceit and dulcet tones.

"Liar!" Harry shouted, jerking against the ropes biting harshly into his arms as Voldemort stepped further into the room, slamming the door shut behind him and vanishing it with a subtle wave of his arm. It reminded Harry then of just how grandiose the room was--of the decadence of the bed he currently lied on and of the tasteful decorations in the room.

It was easily the most lavish place Harry had stayed in in his entire life. Without a doubt, beating the opulence of Malfoy Manor's own rooms. Not that Harry had much opportunity to see those rooms, of course. His greatest concern at the time was getting himself and his friends out alive--leaving little room for Harry to contemplate the furniture.

But now, all Harry could really do was stare at these familiar four walls. The white walls melding perfectly with the emerald color of his sheets and the dark mahogany of the bed frame.

It was all perfectly paired--planned and executed. As if Voldemort himself had hired a designer to ensure that this room was nothing short of perfect.

And wasn't that funny? That Voldemort would hire a designer for a prisoner?

Harry was promptly cut off from his thoughts when Voldemort spoke again, his face lined with frustration.

"For what purpose would I lie to you, Harry?" Voldemort asked, and Harry strained in his bonds for a moment before sneering at the man. He didn't want to talk--content to be left to himself and the walls that sometimes whispered to him before he succumbed to slumber. It should have concerned him that he was hearing voices, but what did Harry care?

Voldemort had brought him the severed heads of his friends on a pike early on in his captivity. There was simply nothing left for him to fight for but for himself. For his own pride and peace of mind.

And perhaps, for the few that he hoped had managed to survive.

"I don't know, I don't think you really need a reason to be a monster." Harry mocked, and Voldemort froze for a second, his red eyes flashing with something Harry could identify as irritation before shuttering the emotion away quickly.

It made Harry grin.

"Did that offend you, Tom? To know that you are a shadow of who you once were? That you are nothing but a creature that preys on the innocent?" Harry laughed when Voldemort stepped further into the room, his magic cackling in the air alerting Harry at just how angered the man was.

"Do not force my ha--"

"Or what?" Harry interrupted, a smirk dancing along his lips when Voldemort stopped beside him on the bed, his stature imposing. But Harry was no longer intimidated. He was more than a bit accustomed to the man's scare tactics. "You're going to kill me? The horror."

Harry was laughing so hard that tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, his chest aching and his throat tight with the force of it.

Harry could admit that he sounded a little unhinged, but again, what did it matter now? The war had been lost and now, all that Harry really had was Voldemort's unwanted company and this room. The same four bloody walls that often whispered to both Harry's dismay and delight.

The monster didn't even allow him the peace of speaking to anyone else. Not even the house elves that conjured his three daily meals were allowed to appear before him.

He was all alone.

"There are things worse than death, Harry Potter." Voldemort began, and Harry could not repress a flinch when one of Voldemort's fingers pressed to the skin of his cheek. The contact no longer triggered their strange connection, but it elicited a strange pleasant feeling in his gut. It was unsettling in its intensity, the heat of it dancing across his skin and spreading through his body like some sort of infectious disease.

But Harry ignored that, knowing well that Voldemort was only doing that to disturb him. Nothing ever came out of such an innocent touch, and Voldemort, for all his monstrosity, never did more that smooth his fingers across his skin.

Curious, but never threatening.

It was the only reprieve Harry had in this world. He doubted he would have much left if the man had decided to do more than simply warn him with such a powerful connection at his command.

"You've already seen to that, My Lord." Harry mocked, before gasping when Voldemort's fingers ran along the curve of his cheek bone, and lower to dig his nails gently against his neck.

Harry faintly wondered if the man could feel just how rapidly his heart was beating--if he could hear the strange thoughts in the back of Harry's mind whispering for more with its strangely familiar lilt. The hissing sounding a lot like--

"No, I have not. I have granted you a better life than you would have lived should I have desired your suffering." Voldemort replied in turn, his touch questing when Harry unconsciously leaned into his prodding hands.

Harry hated this.

"You think this is mercy? That you're doing me a favor by locking me in some gilded cage and giving your little bird some attention?" Harry asked, and then sighing when Voldemort's slid his fingers lower down Harry's neck until it teased at his exposed collar bones--his shirt lying somewhere in the room, neglected.

Discarded by Harry earlier in the evening when he had tried, and ultimately failed, to fall asleep.

"More than you deserve. But I find that I am a changed man." Voldemort's tone was different then, a grin breaking out on his inhuman face setting Harry on edge. Since Harry's capture, the man had barely shown emotion aside from anger and displeasure.

Harry could not recall an instance where it had been anything but--his back bearing the weight of those memories. He had far too many scars on his back from the curses Voldemort had launched at him for mouthing off earlier in his captivity, and it seemed that Voldemort had somehow gained some other strange idea, guessing from the continued trace of Voldemort's nails on his skin.

He shuddered with both revulsion and pleasure when Voldemort moved them lower still, the nail biting into his nipple as it went.

"I cannot make the entire world my own with the same tactics I had employed here in Britain. Your role as the Boy-Who-Lived is far from finished, and you will see to it that my bid for power is successful." Voldemort continued and Harry gasped when the connection between them sprang to life once more--Voldemort's magic so thick in the air that Harry was afraid he might even choke on it.

"I have all the time in the world to make you yield, Harry Potter. I have already come this far in just a few months, imagine what would come of this in a few more years." Harry melted into Voldemort's touch, his body quivering with disgust and delight when sparks danced up his spine--his back arching further into Voldemort's touch the longer the man tapped at their connection.

Harry's body felt like a live wire--an exposed nerve that continued to coax violent reactions from his body. This was the worst sort of violation--the kind that Harry himself had never experienced before.

It was strange feeling oddly betrayed by this--thinking that this man would never stoop so low as to abuse this connection for gain. And he wanted to laugh at himself then for that silly thought because of course Voldemort would abuse it.

The man would never change--once a monster, always a monster.

And then Harry was crying out, the pleasure across his skin so overwhelming that he could hardly think past the thrumming of his heart, the shortness of his breath, and the texture of Voldemort's hands on his nipple.

The digits light--like feathers dancing across naked skin--but sufficient to allow Voldemort to manipulate their connection as he saw fit.

"Different now. More like you've evolved, Tom. Become more of a monster than you already wer--"

Harry groaned when Voldemort embedded his nails into his skin before slashing them down his chest--the sting and the heat enough to make him see white. The pain did little to ground him--the delicious way that it melded with the heat in his blood causing something in his stomach clench.

A pressure build.

Harry wanted to laugh and cry all at once, but he shoved those emotions back. Unwilling to shatter like glass beneath his gaze.

"Different is a matter of degree, and Lord Voldemort certainly knows this subtlety." Voldemort stated, his eyes dancing with amusement when Harry arched and writhed from the pleasant feelings overtaking his thoughts.

The man's touch stripping him bare and eating away at the hatred curled in Harry's gut.

"And you will be different too. A golden boy no more. The champion of light, erased."

The promise there was as heady as the ecstasy coursing through his veins, and Harry wondered then, with his spine bending and his mouth splitting open, if he would truly survive this unscathed. If he would remain unchanged as he hoped he would.

But those thoughts were overtaken by Voldemort's overwhelming magic--his nails sliding further along his exposed skin to tug at the edge of his checkered boxers.

The fingers both a threat and a promise.

"Is that what you truly think?" Harry began, shuddering when Voldemort's nails traced lightly against the thin material. "That you will break me?"

Harry jerked his hips into Voldemort's hand, unable to resist the way Voldemort's prodded and teased at his connection, the fingers shooting sparks up Harry's spine. Driven mad and near blind at just a simple press of those sharp nails through the thin barrier.

"Certainly. Just look at you." Voldemort explained, a smirk tugging at his lips when he slipped a finger beneath the waistband, and Harry jerked. A sharp breath escaping his lips, unable to repress just how affected he was by Voldemort's touch.

"I've barely touched you at all and you look as if you're about to come undone." Voldemort mocked, his red eyes trapping Harry's own.

"But would you want to? If you've changed as much as you say you have what success is there in breaking me in two? That's something a brute would do." Harry replied, groaning when Voldemort delved his hand further inside to play with the new skin, his fingers questing and his face thoughtful as he did.

"I-It's easy for someone to break someone down. But to make something out from what is already there. Is that not true mastery?" Harry looked away when Voldemort's fingers were suddenly on his cock, his nails scratching from the base down to his leaking head. Harry tried not to lose track of his thoughts--clinging to them as desperately as he could, knowing that he allowed himself to be overwhelmed he'd fail to steer Voldemort away from his dangerous goal.

"Oh? And what is it that you know of mastery, boy?" Voldemort sounded curious, and Harry swallowed first before answering, ignoring just how delicious Voldemort's fingers felt as they continued to play with his skin.

"I know that a true master can make one submit without the need to break their servants. That a Lord is only deserving of his title if he can inspire true loyalty." Harry sighed when Voldemort's touch grew firmer, his hand taking Harry's length entirely into his palm before giving his cock a squeeze. Harry felt like he was going to climax from that alone, his mouth snapping open into a silent scream when Voldemort's magic swelled at the same time.

His power settled into the crevices in Harry's own soul--coaxing at the dormant shard within his own body that wanted to reunite with Voldemort's sliver of a soul.

It drove Harry wild, his eyes fluttering closed for several seconds, before opening them to look up at Voldemort.

"Oh, don't worry. There will be plenty of time for me to show you how wrong you are." Voldemort whispered, the determination alight in his gaze causing Harry smirk internally.

Voldemort had taken the bait.

Good.

And then, before Harry could even properly protest, Voldemort's magic flared and his hand began to move--the friction of his dry palm and Harry's sensitive flesh enough to push Harry over the edge.

Harry came so hard he lost sense of the world around him. His body trembling with the force of his release, his thoughts jumbled.

"This is merely a taste of what I can provide if you should obey." Voldemort hissed, his hand still gripping tightly around Harry's softened cock.

"I thank you for such an...illuminating idea, Harry." Voldemort chuckled, before turning away with a dramatic flare of his robes. The bonds restraining Harry to the bed dissipating just as Voldemort flickered from existence--the only memory that he had even been there at all, the moisture pooling between Harry's thighs.

It was a dangerous game Harry was playing. But the Dark Lord was certainly right about one thing.

Voldemort had changed, and the desire Harry had glimpsed in his eyes was definitely evidence of that.

[goldenscript]

late night studies.

1,912 words | fluff  ↳ roommates au + lee jooheon

author’s note: this idea came to me when i was thinking of an old drabble i wrote for haikyuu!! heh, i hope this was ok!

There’s only one rule to life: Never piss Yoo Kihyun off.

Let’s repeat that once more. Never piss Yoo Kihyun, the pink-haired bastard -ahem- hamster off. Especially if you want to get one measly thing like the desired roommate.

Rule #2: Always make sure there’s water in the ramen before you ever shove into the microwave.

Because somehow, unbeknownst to you, Jooheon managed to do both things though the former still remains to be the biggest mystery. You try not to ask why, not that it bothers you as much as you figured it would’ve in the first place. It’s been working out, living with him though he has his moments where you’re not sure what to say or even do. Not out of genuine, heart-clenching fear, but the kind of heart-clenching fear that leaves you in not only wonder but restlessness.

Lee Jooheon’s quite attractive, you’ll admit. He looks pretty terrifying when he has a set jaw and an unreadable expression washed over his features, but the majority of the time you’ve seen him donning a shower cap (he made you promise to say nothing of it), a smile curved on his lips, and dammit, his proximity a lot closer than you ever anticipate. You actually kind of miss the time when he avoided you for a day and a half straight after catching him with a loofah and a very familiar tune to “What Makes You Beautiful” playing in the background though (again) you’re sworn to secrecy that this event never makes it out of the apartment ever. Regardless, it’s all too undeniable that you enjoy your time with your newfound roommate, even find yourself awaiting a new day, wondering what sight you’ll see then.

At this point in time, you wouldn’t really know. All your focus has been put on getting through these midterms from classes that you’d prefer not to slack off in, especially when it takes up a good percentage of your final grade. So, you’ve opted to studying in the 24-hour study room a few blocks from your apartment complex. It’s been your safe haven since the start of the taxing examinations, and although you loved the comforts of your apartment and your roommate, you knew that coming here was your best bet if you actually wanted to get a good load in.

So, for the past week you’ve offered your friends some good studying  sessions in exchange for accompanying you (some did and others shrugged it off). In the beginning of the year, you asked Jooheon if he wanted to come with you, but you learned to regret that after he tried to play paper football instead of actually looking at any of his rather… scarce notes. And so you’ve just given him a head’s up that you’d be out pretty late studying on little sticky notes before sneaking away to the quiet confines of the room that held books and private desk space with gratitude.

Today is no different. Well, tonight. It’s about 3 AM last you remember.

You’re studying for a midterm at your usual spot, tucked away from other bodies but designated at a spot that gave you an impression of comfort beneath the high fluorescent ceiling lights and cases of books in your peripheral. It’s still and calm as you continue to stare at the pages of notes, all decorated to a certain style of highlights and little sub-notes to bear in mind while you made sure you understood the concepts perfectly.  It’s a particular note about the early modern witch that you’re trying to wrap your head around, mouthing the words just to make sure you’re able to articulate them.

For the most part, it’s there but your brain is screaming at you in fatigue, the dark circles that have grown underneath your eyes weigh them down heavily, leaving you in a battle of whether you should just go back to the apartment but you’re already beginning to convince yourself that having this down will most definitely be beneficial if you cram it in now.

And with much hope you’d be able to do so and get home safely afterwards. The bus didn’t run this late, and those few blocks you walk from this glorious studying haven to your apartment is nothing far from sketchy. Not that most places aren’t very sketchy at late hours anyway, but you haven’t actually stayed out this late to study before. Usually your friends will prompt you or you’ll finish up sooner than you anticipate and return by 1:30 at the latest.

Now that your mind’s on that topic, forgoing any other thought of the witch, you actually consider calling Jooheon, but shake that thought away more than immediately. Although he’s offered on more than one occasion to walk you if need be, you’ve always declined for fear of disturbing him. Plus, as of late, you’re just now sure how to place your own emotions toward him.

It’s just inevitable that you’ve found yourself just a teeny bit attracted to the dark-haired man who eyes the shape of crescents when he flashes you a dimple-accompanied grin. His arms sometimes wrapped around your limbs when you decide to throw on a random movie and it’s some horror flick with too bad lighting but a plot that’s sure to give him nightmares if you don’t let him squeeze the near life out of you. You most certainly can’t deny the dejected look on his features when he showed you his first failed attempt at the ramen, but he makes it up with some grilled meat because somehow he can manage the stove (on some occasions) but not a measly microwave? And in the mix of warm cuddles and 3 AM runs to the 24-hour convenience store a block away, you can only admit to a small part of yourself that maybe -just maybe- you’re housing more feelings for the loudmouth boy than you’d like to admit.

With a shake of your head, you continue your attempt at studying once more, trying to ignore the idea of Jooheon and his warmth and his stupidly adorable dimpled grin.

About one more try into studying, you feel your phone vibrate against the table, eliciting a sudden wave of a heart attack to shock you out of the determined stupor. You actually hadn’t realized it was still on until you remember you left it that way in case someone tried contacting you, so you flip it over, seeing Jooheon’s contact pop up.

Your brows shoot upward in confusion, ready to answer when you rise up from your seat and turn to go to the bathroom to answer and nearly fall over in surprise when you see the grinning, dark-haired boy trying to keep his growing giggles to himself.

“Jooheon!” You mouth, though it’s accompanied by a rush of wind in your slow attempt to slow your heart rate.

He moves closer and holds his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” He says with a grin. “I thought you’d notice I was here since I called your name a few times.”

When you feel yourself calm down, you ask, “What are you doing here anyway? It’s late.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “The better question is what are you doing here still? It’s,” He glances at his phone, “exactly three-twelve in the morning.”

“I was studying.” You answered bluntly. “What’s your excuse?”

He takes a moment before he holds up the bag in his hands (how it slipped your mind until now is still beyond you but you can openly blame your fatigue). “I brought you snacks, and an offer for a free walk home.”

You can’t fight the grin growing on your lips, and your brain certainly does nothing to hide this either.

“Were you worried?” You tease, nudging him with your shoulder.  

His features scrunch up and a myriad of complaints slip past his lips before he huffs, “No! You’ve been working hard a lot so I thought I’d get you something as a reward.”

You giggle, nodding your head solemnly.

“So, how about you call it a day?”

You stare back at the notes, feeling the words meld together despite your effort to separate each letter and comprehend the words before turning back to Jooheon. There’s a glimmer of hope and rest when his visage comes to him. His bottom lip seems to be pulled over the top one and even though he said his actions were nothing you can visibly tell that he came out just to go see you. He’s still outfitted in his house clothes just with an additional sweatshirt. His hair is tousled atop his forehead and he actually looks a little tired himself in all his pouty glory.

You release a deep sigh before you acquiesce. The prospect of going back to the apartment is way too tempting to pass up. You no longer have the meager anxiety of trying to run your way back home, and snacks do sound pretty good right now.

“Fine, fine.” You muse, gathering your notebooks into your backpack, carefully placing your laptop inside.

You reach for your textbooks but he beats you to the punch, gathering them in his arms and beginning to take a few steps ahead. He says nonchalantly, “I got ‘em. Let’s go, star pupil.”

You roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him when he turns over to you, watching as you transition from walking behind him to beside him.

As you venture into the cold air, a rack of shivers perpetrating your body enough that Jooheon begins to linger closer to shield you from the small gusts of wind. You look over at him gratefully, shooting him a small smile and trying to ignore the erratic beating of your own heart.

Definitely not out of fear.

it kind of dawns on you that this is why you’ve been staying out later. Of course, you like spending time with him whenever you’re both home, but you also know the repercussions if you aren’t as careful as you should be. No wonder you thought the study room was the perfect getaway.

Those feelings kind of bubble inside as you continue your trek back home, listening to his silly quips and stories about his latest venture with Changkyun and the rest of his friends. It’s a nice feeling as you both enter the warmth, settling all your items on the kitchen table before he plops down onto the couch with the bag of snacks.

“Care to indulge?”

The previous fatigue and restlessness of the library begins to melt away just a bit and you take a spot beside him, already watching him flip to some random movie to keep you guys occupied until you both knock out within an allotted amount of time.

Out of bravery you turn to him, “Hey Jooheon.” When he breaks his gaze from the television set and meets your eyes, leaning just to show he’s actually listening, you lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

His cheeks begin to dust with light shades of pink before he stutters out a “Y-you’re w-w-elcome,” the two of you now leaning against one another as the movie begins to play.

From the corner of your eye, you can see a small smile curving on his lips, and you can’t even deny the one curving on yours.

Now you’re really glad you went to the study room today.