#prof. stretch

[demonslayedher]

Nerdy cultural details about the word "Hashira"

Some details can be hard to pick up without context or in translation. I recently went over a few details about the Hashira's names, Breaths, or symbols, but today I want to focus on the word "Hashira."

To get this out of the way, I use "Pillar" all over this blog because I thought that's what they were called. I was astounded that phrase was not translated, as it is a (somewhat rare) case of a one-to-one translation equivalent. They are the pillars that support the Demon Slayer Corp, after all. The kanji for it (柱) very literally means "pillar" in any modern day Japanese to English dictionary. But since you all know the word "Hashira," let's climb up and see where it takes us! First, the kanji itself (brought over from China and given the Japanese pronunciation "hashira," based on the existing spoken Japanese language), is composed of 木 for "tree" and 主 for "master" or "main/principal," among other semi-literal or more widely applicable possible meanings in modern kanji dictionaries. However, Prof. Owada Tetsuo, a retired university professor who published an unofficial book of his own Kimetsu no Yaiba interpretations based on Japanese demon slaying folklore, points out that 主 can also be interpreted as a still flame atop a candlestick, and that 柱 (hashira) is a tree that cannot be moved. (I'll continue to use a lot of Prof. Owada's details in this explanation, as well as details I have picked up in other research.) That makes 柱 closely associated with holy trees found in, or treated as, Shinto shrines throughout Japan. As Shinto is a nature-based belief system, trees are often something that a kami (deity) will inhabit. Keep Shinto in mind, because we're going to focus on that a lot.

Before that, let's finish up with the kanji 柱. According to the first official fanbook, there is an upper limit of nine Hashira because there are nine strokes in the 柱 kanji. (See this dictionary entry for a breakdown of those nine strokes.)

Now that the easy official tidbit is out of the way, back to the Shinto fun stuff and conjecture! We need to dive a bit more into the spoken Japanese language, from which a lot of Shinto terms derive. For starters, the Japanese language uses counter words for when you say a certain number of beings or objects. You could think of this as "a sheet of paper" or "three rolls of tape." It is an annoying part of starting out your study of the language because there are a lot to memorize based on sizes, shapes, types of animals, etc. Deities also have their own counter word: 柱 (hashira). This goes to show how the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corp are something more than human, what with how much power they possess.

Now if we think about the pronunciation of the spoken Japanese word from long before a Chinese written character was assigned to it, the "hashi" of "hashira" is a "bridge." Clever ones among you might know that "hashi" also means "chopsticks." But even chopsticks have the same effect as a bridge! They serve as a connection, bridging the gap between you and what was another living thing, that which will become a part of you as your sustenance. "Hashira," as pillars, are likewise something that serve as a connection, in this case, a vertical one. They are that which connect us with the heavens, or in the case of the Demon Slayer Corp, they bridge the gap between the limits of human strength and the inhuman strength of demons.

As another Shinto tie, one of the connections that Prof. Owada and I both made was that there are nine pillars that support the main sanctuary in shrine architecture like that of Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine. Or rather, in the case of at least one of the historical iterations of Izumo Taisha, there were nine groups of three massive tree trunks each, resulting in a shrine over 48 meters in height (see here for photos of how big the remains of those pillars are and how exciting the archaeology is). These pillars give you a sense of awe for just how powerful pillars can be, especially when you have a spread of nine to distribute the weight. Now, there's more that Prof. Owada and I would both say about how Izumo Taisha also ties in with the "Ubuyashiki" surname or the "yakata" title by which the Hashira address him, but that's a dose of nerdery for some other time.

[demeterdefence]

my energy has been low lately so i've stuck to just liveblogging chapter releases, but i was thinking earlier about why lore olympus really nettles me and it's truly indicative of a wider issue.

it's disappointing that a major ancient religion that is still practiced by some people today has been reduced to a caricature of itself, and i say this knowing that there are thousands of reinterpretations of the greek myths, there will always be a new opinion or retelling of them. retelling the myth of hades and persephone isn't necessarily the issue, so much as the constant and dripping disdain to the cultural roots. we don't need to be greek to appreciate the story, but why remove everything greek from it? why westernize every aspect and remove ties to the cultural roots? why whitewash everything from a myth thousands of years old?

part of the reason these myths continue to resonate with us is because the themes are still relevant today. the loss of a child, the struggle against impossible forces, the (often patriarchal) powers against you, a mothers love. these stories hold power, they gave hope and inspiration, they created meaning and connection, and they were vital to the people who lived in that time, in that place. they will resonate with us for many years still, but stripping the roots and core of it out only makes it a hollow, shallow imitation. it's reality tv with neon colours, no love or heritage present; it's cold and shiny and plastic, and it insults what it claims to portray.

[quantomeno]

I was recently reminded of one of Phoenix's many near death experiences and that in turn reminded me of my headcanon that Sissel (from Ghost Trick) exists in his universe and is constantly having to save his life

This obviously leaves the glaring issue of why Sissel hasn't saved anyone else's lives, but I guess we can just say Wright is special and Sissel doesn't like to interfere too much

[moreaujeans]

im signed up for an online english course with a professor who has actually some of the worst rate my professor reviews i have ever seen most of which talk about how she never replies to emails and/or didn’t start putting in grades until like the last two weeks of class and she’s currently refusing to even open the course until wednesday… head in hands

[clarabowmp3]

Okay just came back from dinner with my family meaning no one is going to be using the dining table so I can plonk myself there and pull a half-all-nighter or smth

[ayakashibackstreet]

Finished the Enstars portion, friends <3

[terrainofheartfelt]

Okay so the thing that bothers me about this professor at yale in “incredible sinking lorelais” is like….what are you mad about? what point are you trying to prove? Like, as an educator in liberal arts and humanities, shouldn’t he be pleased that a student demonstrated the ability to synthesize and compare and contrast seemingly separate topics? it’s not “avoiding research” it’s being able to draw connections, if it’s well supported, then why would that be a bad thing? like, that’s the critical analytical thinking that the ivies should be all about promoting? but no? you gotta be rude bc she didn’t cite an article from your journal? fuck off.

[moonsun2010]

If you've ever seen this book recommended

you'll be glad to know that the artist has a youtube channel where he goes through different anatomy concepts!

I also highly recommend the Fat Stacks series by Jesse Thompson; he's also an actual art professor and his series reviews different art books, which can be great for breaking down these texts if you're overwhelmed by the (very useful) info they give!

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard)

Aaron Rutten (free)

BoroCG (free)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates)

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, ect Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Libresprite (free, for pixel art)

Those are the ones I can recall.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

[lookwhatyoumademelou]

.

[thatshadowgastwhore]

I’m just a simple man, and if given the option to make something about Greek mythology I simply have no choice

[morningmask27]

just remembered that one time I nearly slammed my head on my crushes' lap when my pencil fell and I wanted to grab it. decided to hit the table instead, it's less awkward

[ditzydoe444]

prof jason x student reader!? i luv ur content sm

MDNI 18+

teacher's pet ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡

prof! jason x student! reader

jason todd smut

jason todd was your professor at university, you were currently studying engineering, and struggling doesn’t even begin to describe your current situation. no matter how much you studied, participated in class, and asked questions you always found yourself barely passing. it was just something about the stupid numbers that didn’t make sense to your brain.

one night you were mentally planning on telling your professor about dropping the class, but one thing led to another of your fantasies going wild. jason was attractive, he had this rugged manly look going on, with his messy black hair, muscles that were huge and the charming crooked grin he would give. he really was attractive.

next day you stayed back at the lecture, preparing to tell him about dropping the class, your fantasies were fantasies for a reason. it was inappropriate, and god jason would never condone it.

“sir,” you mumbled shyly as you approached his desk, his pen cap held by his teeth as he marked work. you’ve never felt so shy talking to a professor. normally, you were the teacher's pet growing up, so why were you so affected?

“i was thinking about dropping the class,” your voice dropped lower the moment his eyes met yours, cold and calculating. jason shifted in his chair, placing the pen’s cap back on before leaning back, his strong arms crossing each other. “what makes you say that?”

well because you were barely passing.

“i’ve been struggling with this course, it’s like no matter what i do i'm always getting the same low marks.” jason let out a low chuckle, his smile lines becoming prominent, “you’re dropping because you can’t stand getting low grades? thought you were more resilient than that sweetheart.”

the endearment had more of an effect on you than you would’ve liked, your cheeks heating up whilst you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt. maybe wearing a mini skirt to class wasn’t the best idea. “you know i don’t like students who give up easily right? so no, i'm not letting you drop out.”

your eyes widen, that wasn’t the response you expected or wanted. “i need to maintain my average sir, if i stay here it’ll go down,” you pleaded, your voice shaky.

“there are different ways to get your credit up,” jason shrugged nonchalantly as he resumed marking his papers. different ways? what other ways would he be thinking?

“other assignments sir? or participation marks? i always participate maybe something could be gained from that.” you rambled, you were so desperate to boost your average it was a pathetic sight, to say the least, and you could tell jason was having the time of his life.

he shook his head, “you said you were barely passing and want another assignment? how desperate are you sweetheart?” he raised a brow.

very desperate. you would do anything.

jason stretched his legs out, his legs spreading far apart, showing his thick muscular thighs. suddenly your mind drifted back to the fantasy you had last night, what if you just kneeled down in between his legs and-

though jason quickly broke you out of your trance, his deep voice speaking up. “you going to keep starin’ in between my legs or respond sweetheart?” your cheeks heat up, you were basically begging to switch classes and now you got caught for staring at your professor's clothes cock.

he was on the slightly older side, you’ve heard he doesn’t really talk that much to other people, so he must have some sort of pent-up frustration right? what if you helped with that?

everything was embarrassing enough, usually, conversations with professors regarding topics like these would be shorter, them letting you drop the class, but no. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough so what if you just acted on your fantasies? if it goes wrong it’ll give you a reason to drop college altogether.

before you could even think rationally about the many, many things that could go wrong with what you were going to do, you kneeled right in front of him. “you gonna suck your way out of this?” he raised a brow, a small lazy grin on his face.

“will it work?” you asked, but you didn’t care if it didn’t, at this point this was for your own pleasure too. your hands fumbled with the belt, before unzipping his pants. “if you decide to put on your best show,” jason shrugged, despite how nonchalant he was acting, the large bulge in his pants gave his true feelings away.

you clumsily tugged his pants mid-thigh alongside his boxers, springing out his erection. you tried your best to not look intimidated by his size, but it was hard. his long fat cock was in your hands, with the slightly pink tip already leaking with pre cum. “gonna give it your best sweetheart?” jason groaned at your touch, his head tilting back with his eyes shut.

“yes sir,” you mumbled softly as your hands worked up and down his cock, watching it get harder in your hands. when he was big everywhere, he was big everywhere.

“stop playing around and suck,” he hissed sharply when your thumb wiped the leaking pre cum. obediently, you obeyed, shoving him into your mouth with no warning making him groan loudly. you were too eager to think properly, your nose touching his trimmed hair, whilst one of your hands was wrapped around the two inches you couldn’t take.

even though you didn’t fully take him in your mouth he was big enough to make you gag slightly, tears already welling up in your eyes, whilst you felt your jaw was going to lock. “aren’t you eager sweet thing?” he cooed softly, one of his hands gently caressing your cheek whilst the other gripped the arm of the chair.

slowly, you went up and down his length, your tongue swiping against his tip tasting the slightly salty fluid. “m-mph,” you whined as you tried to force the other inch down. “if you keep going ‘m gonna make sure you get full credit for everything, alright sweetheart?” jason whispered softly.

you were a mess and jason loved it, there was just something about seeing someone younger than him with their mouth stuffed with his cock, with tears streaming down their face whilst their saliva dribbled down. you’ve been sucking his dick to the point where you were convinced your jaw was going to lock, it was being stretched out to the point of being uncomfortable.

“gonna come sweetheart, mind if i fill your pretty little mouth,” he cooed softly. you hummed eagerly, nodding like a desperate whore. “so desperate to be filled up aren’t ya? how about i fill your little cunt up after as a reward?” you moaned at that, the vibrations sending shivers to jason.

you gagged the moment he filled your mouth, his hot salty fluid filling up your mouth. in a matter of seconds, he pulled your he had away from his cock harshly, making some of his cum dribble down your chin. “come here and ride me sweet thing,” jason groaned slightly as he patted his thighs.

you wasted no time straddling up, he pushed your baby pink lace panties to the side before shoving a finger into your cunt. “already soaked for me, aren’t you an easy thing to please?” his slight stubble tickling your chin as he kisses your neck.

it was a matter of time before you were bouncing on his cock, your lewd moans filling up the lecture hall paired with your skin slapping with jason’s. “there we go, bounce like a bunny sweet thing,” he praised as his large hands encircled the whole of your waist, supporting you whilst he thrust upwards.

“already drooling sweetheart,” he cooed softly watching as your saliva mixed with his cum dribbled down your chin to your shirt, staining it. you couldn’t keep your mouth shut from the moans you were letting out with his harsh thrusts, and also couldn’t swallow it as he would basically make you choke and gag on your own saliva come from how hard he was going.

“gonna keep this our little secret sweetheart?” jason groaned as he squeezed your waist tightly. “y-yes,” you whined out, one of your hands wiping your mouth to stop the saliva and cum dribbling down. jason quickly grabbed that hand, holding it tightly in his grip whilst he stared at you intently, “yes who?”

“y-yes sir,” you whined out, making a mess on your chin and shirt. jason gave a crooked smile, “good girl, can’t have the word getting out that you love bouncin’ on my cock can we?”

[hoshifighting]

ok... so i've seen your amazing college fling works for seungcheol, jeonghan, and joshua.... but what about one for hoshi 👉👈

ONCE AGAIN I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: freshmen!hoshi, late night practices, burn-out, shyness, sunbae!reader, fluff, a lil bit of angst.

WC: 2.8k of this... judge me 🗣needed to divide this into parts...

part 1 / part 2

college fling!hoshi that you clocked that he was a freshman by the very moment he stepped into the dance practice room. it started with the smell, honestly. freshman reek—like nervous sweat and too much axe body spray, paired with the faintest whiff of fear. baggy-ass hoodie that practically swallowed his arms, hands shoved deep in his pockets like they’d get fined if they came out, sneakers so new they squeaked against the gym floor. he looked young. not in a bad way, just in that “i’m not used to being left unsupervised” way.

he stood in the doorway like he didn’t know what to do with himself. everyone else was stretching, pulling their limbs into shapes human joints probably weren’t meant for, and there he was, swaying on the balls of his feet like a kid waiting to ask if they could borrow a crayon.

“you lost?” you called out, not even looking up from where you were sitting, tying your shoelaces.

“huh? n-no, i’m, uh—this is intro to hip-hop?”

the way he said it like a question had you biting back a grin. “yeah, you’re in the right place. c’mon in before the instructor roasts your ass for lurking.”

he shuffled in, taking a spot in the back corner like he was hoping no one would notice him. “i'm invisible if i stand still enough”, he thinks. but of course, everyone noticed him. new kid energy was impossible to ignore, and to top it off, he had that awkwardly cute thing going on. messy bangs falling into his eyes, face pink like he was one awkward comment away from combusting. his eyes, wide and curious, darting around like he was mentally cataloging every single thing in the room.

“you got a name, freshman?” you asked, leaning back on your hands as you watched him.

he blinked, like he didn’t realize you were still talking to him. “oh, uh, hoshi. i mean, soonyoung. but people call me hoshi.”

“cool. you dance before, hoshi?”

“alright, new guy!” the prof clapped his hands, dragging everyone’s attention. “show us a little freestyle! don't be shy...”

college fling!hoshi who freezes mid-blink, still thinking about your question. clutching his backpack straps so hard you thought they might snap. he turned to you, wide-eyed and panicked, like you could save him from the impending doom.

“relax,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice low enough that only he could hear. “you do this and sunbae’s buying you dinner. whatever you want. ramen, fried chicken, you name it.”

he blinked, like the concept of being spoiled by you was enough to short-circuit his brain, but there was something there. a spark. like maybe he didn’t wanna flop in front of you.

“okay,” he mumbled, and you gave him a grin that could probably power a small city.

“attaboy,” you said, patting his shoulder as you turned back to the class.

by the end of the first class, he’d loosened up a bit—mostly because the instructor made everyone run through improv drills, and there was no room for shyness when you were flailing around to some experimental old-school rap track. you caught him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

college fling!hoshi who finally zipped up his backpack after what felt like an eternity, stood up, and immediately knocked over a water bottle with his foot. he muttered a quick, shy “sorry,” barely glancing at the offended plastic, and shuffled toward you. his shoulders were stiff, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack like they were the only things tethering him to this earth. you gave him a once-over, your phone in one hand, and a smirk playing at your lips. “you survived,” you said casually, and his grin was so tiny you almost missed it.

college fling!hoshi who started walking alongside you, a little too close like he didn’t know how to pace himself yet. every few steps, his elbow brushed yours, and he’d shift just enough to make it obvious he noticed. you didn’t say anything—just side-eyed him with a teasing smile that had his ears turning red.

college fling!hoshi who paused outside the building with you, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve as he asked, “so, uh… what do you like to eat?” his voice was barely louder than the passing breeze. you raised an eyebrow at him, tucking your phone into your pocket. “you’re really gonna let me pick, huh?” he nodded, determined, even as he shuffled his feet. “you said you’d spoil me,” he countered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of sass in his tone. you liked it.

college fling!hoshi who almost tripped on his untied shoelace when you said you’d pick a place, his backpack slipping off one shoulder as he bent down to fix it. he was mumbling something about bad luck when you crouched beside him, yanking the lace from his hands and tying it with a quick knot. “you’re gonna kill yourself before dinner at this rate,” you said, and the way he stared at you—wide-eyed, lips parted—made it feel like you’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

college fling!hoshi who sat across from you at the tiny chicken shop, looking at the menu like it was a math test. “it’s just chicken, dude,” you teased, propping your chin in your hand. he fumbled with the laminated page, finally blurting, “but what if I pick something too spicy?” you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, rookie, let me help you out.” you ended up ordering for both of you, and when the dish came, his eyes lit up.

college fling!hoshi who distractly puts too much sauce on his chicken wing and doesn’t notice because he was too busy grinning at your stories. “wait, wait—so you fell during a performance?” he asked, the sauce at the corner of his mouth. you groaned, throwing a napkin at him. “it wasn’t just a fall, okay? it was a crash,” you admitted, and his laugh was so loud the couple at the next table glanced over. “stop making fun of me or I’ll make you pay,” you threatened, and his face instantly sobered. “wait, what?”

college fling!hoshi who insisted on paying despite your earlier threats. he pulled out his wallet like it was some grand declaration of independence, only to hesitate when he realized he didn’t have enough cash. “um…” he started, cheeks burning. you rolled your eyes and handed your card to the cashier before he could protest. “rookie rule number one,” you said smugly, “always check your wallet before acting like a big shot.” he muttered something about repaying you, and you just laughed, nudging him toward the door.

college fling!hoshi who got lost again on the way back to his dorm, despite the fact that he’d been living there for a week. “are you serious right now?” you asked, watching him squint at the campus map on his phone. he scratched the back of his head, mumbling, “it all kinda looks the same at night.” sighing, you grabbed his phone, pulled up the map yourself, and started walking. “come on, hoshi-ya you’re hopeless.”

college fling!hoshi who walked beside you, hands in his pockets, quietly humming a tune you didn’t recognize. “what’s that?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. his eyes widened like he’d been caught. “oh, uh, just something I made up,” he admittedquietly. you stopped in your tracks, turning to him with a grin. “wait, you write music?” he shrugged, suddenly bashful. “a little… it’s not a big deal.” you nudged him with your shoulder. “nah, that’s cool as hell. show me sometime?”

college fling!hoshi who hesitated outside his dorm door, hand hovering over the handle. “thanks for… you know, today,” he said, glancing at you shyly. “and dinner.” you smirked, crossing your arms. “you earned it, rookie. but next time, you’re paying.” his smile stretched wide, and for a moment, he just stood there, like he didn’t want to go in. finally, he nodded, fumbling with the key. “goodnight, sunbae,” he said softly, and you had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair as you turned to leave.

college fling!hoshi who always trails behind you, holding onto the strap of your backpack like a lost puppy. “you’re gonna rip it, you know,” you tell him, but he just grins and tightens his grip. “you’re my sunbae. gotta make sure I don’t lose you.” it’s so dumb and cheesy that you flick his forehead, but your chest feels warmer anyway.

college fling!hoshi who managed to charm his way into your friend group like he’d been there all along. one of your music department friends spotted him loitering outside your lecture hall and asked, “is that the guy you’ve been dragging around campus?” you rolled your eyes, but hoshi smiled like he’d just won an award. “that’s me!” he said proudly, and somehow by the end of the conversation, they were swapping playlist recommendations.

college fling!hoshi who shows up at your dorm one night with a bruised knee and a sheepish smile. “i tripped during practice,” he admits, wincing as you drag him inside. “tripped or collapsed?” you demand, pointing at the ice pack in his hands. he shrugs, trying to play it off, but you’re already crouched in front of him, scolding him as you press the ice to his knee. “you should stop, sunbae its worried about you.” you mutter, and when he mumbles, “i’ll be fine,” you glare at him until he mutters an apology instead.

college fling!hoshi who gets into his first real argument with you after you find him practicing in an empty studio way past midnight. “what the hell are you doing?” you snap, flipping on the lights to find him mid-spin, sweat dripping down his face. “just a bit more,” he protests, breathless. “i need to get this routine perfect.” but you’re not having it. “perfect doesn’t matter if you’re too dead to perform, hoshi!” he flinches, wide-eyed, but you don’t stop. “you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. stop before you break something.” he looks at you, frustrated, and finally, he slumps onto the floor, whispering, “sorry, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who randomly shows up with snacks between your classes. “figured you’d be hungry,” he says, handing you a convenience store bag. you peek inside—your favorite drink and a pack of cookies. “didn’t know you were trying to bribe me,” you tease, taking a bite. “is it working?” he asks, grinning, and when you give him a thumbs-up, he beams like a kid on christmas morning.

college fling!hoshi who ends up crashing at your dorm after a long night of studying. he’s sprawled on your bed, one arm thrown over his face, while you sit cross-legged on the floor, typing away at your laptop. “you’re gonna fail if you don’t actually read the material,” you say, glancing up. he groans, rolling onto his side. “then i’ll just ask you to tutor me again,” he says, smirking, and you chuck a pillow at his head.

college fling!hoshi who catches you off-guard one day by slipping his jacket over your shoulders during a chilly walk across campus. “you looked cold,” he says simply, his voice softer than usual. you pull the fabric tighter around you, the faint scent of him lingering on it, and when you glance at him, he’s pretending to be super interested in a tree. “thanks,” you say quietly, and he shrugs, his ears turning pink as he mutters, “anytime, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who came back one day to the practice room after a late practice, two cans of soda in hand, humming to himself. “sunbae, I got—” his voice cut off when he saw you slouched on the floor, one hand clutching your forehead. “y/n?” he rushed over, dropping the sodas with a dull clunk. crouching in front of you, his voice softened. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you waved him off weakly. “just tired. it’s nothing.” but he didn’t buy it for a second.

college fling!hoshi who gently pried your hand away from your forehead, his fingers brushing against yours. “you’re burning up,” he said, his brow furrowing. “why didn’t you say anything?” you tried to sit up straighter, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “it’s fine, really. just pushed too hard today.” his expression tightened. “this isn’t fine, y/n. you shouldn’t have kept going if you felt like this.”

college fling!hoshi who helped you lean back against the mirror. “stay still, okay?” he murmured, crouching next to you. you gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “you’re acting like I’m dying, hoshi.” he didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “don’t joke about that,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of improvement.

college fling!hoshi who let you rest your head against his shoulder when you slumped forward again. “here, like this,” he said softly, adjusting so you were cradled in his arms. his hands were steady, one supporting your back and the other brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just relax. you’re safe.” he started gently blowing on your face, the cool air soothing your heated skin. “better?” he whispered, his voice close enough to send a strange flutter through your chest.

college fling!hoshi who stayed with you until you could sit up on your own again, his arm still lingering behind your back just in case. “you scared me,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “i thought… what if something happened and I wasn’t here?” you blinked up at him, guilt bubbling in your stomach. “sorry,” you muttered. his hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “just don’t do it again, okay? i mean it, you always scold me for practicing too late...”

college fling!hoshi who refused to let you walk home by yourself, no matter how many times you insisted you were fine. “nope, not happening,” he said firmly, slipping your bag over his shoulder along with his own. “if you collapse halfway there, what am I supposed to do? carry you like a princess?” you snorted, but the teasing tone in his voice couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“you know, I could really get used to you carrying me around,” you said, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh, really?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah,” you said, deadpan, “I mean, who wouldn’t want a cute guy carrying them everywhere?”

college fling!hoshi who, despite the teasing tone in your voice, caught that little glint in your eye. “alright, then,” he said, voice suddenly serious, as he paused in front of you. “come here.” without waiting for a response, he slid his arms under your knees and around your back. you yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, he had you lifted off the ground like you were weightless. “you wanted it, right?” he said with a grin, carrying you like it was nothing. “not a word out of you until we get to your dorm.”

“you’re a natural at this,” you teased, your chin resting on his shoulder as you looked up at him. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you from passing out on me,” he muttered, but his cheeks were flushed, and his hands felt like they were holding you just a bit too tightly. “this isn’t bad,” you added with a smirk, “maybe I’ll start making demands. like, no more walking for me from now on.”

he blushed at your joke but didn’t miss a beat. “you sure about that?” he asked, glancing down at you with a sly smile. you nodded, playing along. “definitely. I’m a princess now. I’ll need snacks, water, a blanket... and don’t forget the back rubs.” hoshi shook his head, clearly trying to hide his amusement. “I’m pretty sure you’re taking this way too far, but okay,” he said, adjusting his grip on you. “I can do all that...”

“deal. but only if you don’t drop me halfway there,” you teased. hoshi’s grip tightened, his voice lowering a little. “I’ll never drop you, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who made it to your dorm room, still carrying you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this,” he said, shaking his head as he set you down on your bed. “enjoy what?” you asked innocently, grinning up at him. “this whole ‘being carried around’ thing,” he said, still laughing a little. you shrugged dramatically.

college fling!hoshi who would come up to you after class, always fussing over you—was your shoulder okay? did you stretch enough? how was your lunch? you’d always brush it off, sulking a little at the way he took care of you like it was his full-time job.

[coupsiedaisee]

pulse | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader

genre: smut, just smut alksjfdkgjhh

warnings: fingering, exhibitionism, kissing, drinking, like two mentions of weed lol sex?, i've never done warnings before ahh, fingering, voyeurism (sort of? not really?), kissing (is this a warning?), there's no p in v omg, so how do i tag this 😭, this is really short omg, i think fingering covers it, ohi! some drinking? neither of them are inibriated though. imo, would that make this dubcon? feel implicit to me. god sorry, im posting this when im drunk, v will wake up tmrw and tell me if this is dumb or not omg.

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: happy friend anniversary to the second love of my life 🥺v!!!! @hannieween, i love u so much so here's the first smut thing i've fully finished writing and also the first time i've published smut omg. i love you and i love cheol and i really hope this makes u both horny and happy and would love nothing more than if u feel anger (horny anger) after reading this, yay!! target demographic met! to everyone else reading this, pease let me know what u think! even if u hated it omg 🥺i want to know both what u liked and didn't like so my writing can become better. uwu ily all <3 also, again, im drunk, so if there's any grammar mistakes, ima fix it tmrw alksjdhkflhgbksdfgkjd. okay byeeee, enjoy!!!!

"Baby, are you done yet? She just texted that they parked," Seungcheol shouts from the living room.

"Coming!" You yell back, swiping the last bit of lipstick on and giving yourself a once over in the mirror.

Seungcheol's standing by the front door, looking up from his phone when you walk in. He rakes his eyes over you, the clear skin of your neck, down your collar bones, to the cleavage disappearing into your shirt. The sliver of skin between your tight shirt and mini skirt. The bare skin of your plush thighs.

You fidget under his gaze, "Is there something wrong? Do I need to go change?"

"God, no baby. You look—" he swallows hard, running a hand through his blond hair, "—you look hot."

A fierce blush blooms across your cheeks and you tuck you hair behind your ear. "Oh. I—thanks?" You clear your throat, "Y-you do too babe."

And he did. A tight black polo stretched across his pecs, its short sleeves snug around his biceps. Light wash jeans barely holding his thick thighs in.

You want to drop down to your knees, right then and there.

Seungcheol reaches his hand out and you take it. He pulls you in for a kiss, letting his free hand roam down your body, pushing your skirt up to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze.

You pull away first, smacking him lightly on the chest, "Seungcheol!"

He's got no shame though, as he pulls you out the door, laughing.

The two of your were not going far tonight. Just two floors down, to the apartment of a Joshua Hong. Long time friend of Seungcheol's, Joshua was having some friends over to look at the new vaccum he bought.

"It's got even better suction than the last one and the battery life lasts forever," says Joshua, showing off the lime green vaccum in the middle of his living room. Seungcheol's standing next to him with their other friend, Jeonghan. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, and his eyebrows furrowed as Joshua talks. Momo, Josh's next door neighbor, is crouched by the vaccum, eyeing its different attachments.

"How is it with pet hair?" She asks, and you feel that this is your cue to go grab another drink.

In the kitchen, Jeonghan's girlfriend is mixing some sort of concoction in a big punch bowl. She whips around at the sound of your footsteps, "There you are! Where have you been? I texted Seungcheol when we parked."

You send her a sheepish smile, "Got caught up on the new technology."

She rolls her eyes, "You lot are so boring."

"Trust me, you'll be the same once you're in the work force like us boring adults." You go to grab a cider from the fridge.

She scoffs waving her ladle in your direction, "Oi, pipe down Grandma. We're nearly the same age! You'll be sorry when I'm a professor. Don't make me give you detention."

You laugh, "Alright, alright. Don't fail me professor, clearly I was wrong. " You duck just as she swings the ladle at your head.

It doesn't take long until nearly everyone at the apartment is either drunk or baked. You don't know what she put in that bowl, but after seeing Momo passed out on the pool table, you were glad you stuck to your ciders.

You head back into the living room after cleaning up a spill in the hallway (whoever gave Jeonghan jaegerbombs, why?). Dino and Mingyu, Seungcheol's friends from school, are sprawled on the ground in front of the TV, Mario Kart forgotten, passing a lit joint between each other.

Seungcheol's sat back on the sofa, manspreading, and showing off his deliciously thick thighs, taking periodic sips of a Corona. He spots you across the room and you send him a shy smile.

Seungcheol motions at something with his eyes and you tilt your head at him, confused. He snaps his chin in a quick motion but you still don't understand and he lets out an exasperated breath. Settling further into the sofa, he pats his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, looking around the room, but no one's paying you all any attention.

Slowly you make you way to him and, once at his feet, he swiftly gets rid of the cider in your hand, pulling you into his lap with a low, "Come here, baby girl."

Your body heats up as his hands sit on your hips, fingertips grazing the sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt. Your skirt.

When you chose your outfit for today, you had felt good, confident even. You made a choice, to wear a new lingerie set you'd bought the other day. The thought was that, maybe, you and and your boyfriend would get up to some fun when you got back home.

But now, you'd never regretted something more. As Seungcheol adjusts you over his thighs, slotting one in between your legs, the fabric of his jeans rub against your delicate lace panties.

Your pussy pulsates and you've never been more embarassed. You will it to stop, but Seungcheol chooses that moment to dig his fingers into your hips, tensing his thigh, and your pussy throbs.

Little campfires breakout across your cheeks and you find yourself sinking back into Seungcheol's chest in shame. His breath fans across your ear, "Baby, why didn't you tell me you missed me." You can hear the smirk he's probably wearing, but even worse, you're sure he can feel the dampness pooling between your legs.

You should get up. But you know you can't. You know your wetness has seeped onto his jeans, leaving a dark spot, evidence of your need. Everyone would know.

His hands feel like they're burning into your hips, and he leans to press a sweet kiss to your exposed shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

You feel Seungcheol move, and then a blanket is draped over your lap, covering your entire bottom half from any onlookers. Though one look across the room told you not a single person was paying you two any mind.

Seungcheol rubs his hand back and forth over your tummy, the touch feeling like hot coals dragging across your skin. Back. Forth. Back. Forth

Then, his fingers slip past the waistband of your skirt.

You don't say anything as you feel his fingers skate across your clothed mound. When he finds your lips, he pushes down with two fingers. You suck in a breath and hold, mind going completely blank.

You should push his hand away. Scold him with a serious, Seungcheol!

But you don't.

Arousal flows out of you, staining his jeans. Evidence of your want, no, your need for your boyfriend.

Seungcheol, the devil he is, starts rubbing the slowest, most languid, circles, smirking into your neck when you start squirming in his lap.

"If you don't like it, you can just get up and leave baby," he whispers, nipping at your ear lobe.

You subtly shake your head no, worried that if you open your mouth, the most obscene sound would come out.

Seungcheol uses his other hand to pull at your thigh, spreading your legs further apart. He pushes your barely there panty aside and plunges a finger in. Your breath hitches at the sensation and your eyes flit around the room, but no one is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol starts to pump his finger at a torturous pace and you try to keep your breathing even. He ghosts his lips up your neck, whispering, "Can you handle one more baby?" You shake your head with a quick no, biting down on your bottom lip.

Seungcheol's finger freezes and a low whine escapes your lips.

You move your hips just a little bit, chasing what little friction you could find, but Seungcheol tightens the hold on your thigh. "Seungcheol," You mean it to come out stern, but your voice is breathy and light.

"One more baby," Seungcheol nudges your neck with his nose and lets his teeth graze your skin. A shudder rolls through you as your pussy clenches around his single, slender finger.

You already know you've lost. You need Seungcheol to make you feel as full as possible. You nod shyly.

"Hmm?" Seungcheol says quietly, "I need to hear you baby." You can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yes," You breathe out, looking around again to see not a single person paying attention. Seungcheol pushes his second finger in and you bite your lip again to stop the moan that nearly comes out.

Your breathing gets heavier as he curls his fingers just how you like it and your thighs start to tremble as you near your peak. "Are you close baby?" You nod as your fingers grab at the blanket in your lap. He continues to curl his fingers, a little faster now.

Your breathing turns into little whimpers that you try to keep down, but to no avail.

Seungcheol whispers one last, sweet, "Let go for me love," and you're cumming, releasing all over his fingers as he lets you ride them through your high before pulling out.

You hear the pop! of him sucking the taste of you off his fingers and you feel your juices leaking out, soaking into his jeans. You lean your head back onto him, eyes squeezed shut, out of embarrassment or pleasure you don't know.

"Good girl," Seungcheol whispers, rubbing a warm hand over your tummy, and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. "You did so well for me, baby."

a/n: omg okay. this whole this was started because my lovely lovely v asked me do you think he'd be the type to sit you down on his lap to feel your pulse through your pussy? so this is really ur fault love sldjfsldfgldkzfgjdzfgkjdzfklhgb. let me know ur thoughts lovies!!!!!!!!!

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CTRLALTDAISEE I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON THIS OR ON OTHER WEBSITES

[miwsolovely]

—THE SMELL OF BOOKS

𝜗𝜚 — in which, two book nerds start to fall for each other; you both meet your other half through wuthering heights

PROF!JASON TODD x PROF!READER no angst, fluff all around, university professor inconsistencies ( ? ), university au

— so sweet made my own teeth rot, love this sm, not requested —

JASON TODD, the enigmatic literature professor you’ve heard whispers about from students and staff alike, is known for two things: his sharp intellect and his tendency to disappear into the university library for hours on end. He’s a mystery to most, but you’ve caught glimpses of him during faculty meetings—usually seated at the back of the room, arms crossed, half-listening while his mind seems to wander elsewhere. There’s something about the way he carries himself; a quiet confidence, a brooding edge that sets him apart from the other staff.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that you finally had your first real interaction with him.

You’d been in the library, hunting for a specific book you needed for your class, when you spotted him at one of the tables near the back, surrounded by an intimidating tower of books. He was scribbling notes into a leather-bound notebook, a pen held loosely between his fingers. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he didn’t seem to notice when you hesitated at the edge of his table.

“Do you mind if I—” you’d started to ask, gesturing toward the book you needed, which was stacked precariously near his elbow. But he’d looked up at you then, his eyes catching yours, and the rest of your sentence had faltered.

“Go ahead,” he’d said simply, leaning back in his chair and giving you enough space to reach for the book. His voice had been low, smooth, with just the faintest hint of amusement, like he could tell you were caught off guard.

From that moment on, you seemed to keep running into him. Sometimes in the library, where he’d nod at you in acknowledgment before diving back into his work. Sometimes in the hallways between classes, where he’d offer a quick, dry remark that left you wondering if he was teasing you. And, most recently, in the faculty lounge, where he’d sat across from you with an extra cup of coffee waiting for you while casually commenting on the book you were reading.

“Pride and Prejudice?” he’d said, raising an eyebrow. “A classic, sure, but let me guess—you’re teaching it as part of a ‘romance through the ages’ module?”

You’d blinked at him, startled, before recovering. “It’s for my Romantic Literature course, actually,” you’d replied, bringing the cup of coffee to your lips, trying to hide a smile. “What, are you going to tell me it’s overrated?”

He had smirked at that, his eyes glinting with something playful. “Not at all. Austen’s wit is sharper than most people give her credit for. I just didn’t peg you as the type to lean on the obvious choices.”

You’d rolled your eyes, but the conversation had spiraled from there, stretching far longer than you’d anticipated. Before you knew it, the coffee in your cup had gone cold, and you were debating the merits of Byronic heroes with someone who could match your passion word for word.

Now, you find yourself looking forward to the moments when your paths cross. There’s an energy about him that’s magnetic, a sense that he’s holding back just enough to keep you intrigued. And though he might spend most of his time holed up in the library or tucked away in his office, you’ve started to notice the way his eyes linger on you when you pass each other in the halls, the way his lips twitch into the faintest of smiles when he catches you mid-rant about a frustrating student or an impossible superiors deadline.

It’s on one of those late evenings in the library that everything shifts.

You’re grading papers at a table in the corner, the quiet hum of the library settling over you like a blanket, when you hear the scrape of a chair being pulled out. You glance up to find Jason lowering himself into the seat across from you, his ever-present notebook tucked under one arm.

“Didn’t expect to see you here this late,” he says, setting the notebook on the table and leaning back in his chair. His gaze flickers to the stack of papers in front of you. “Let me guess—midterms?”

“Something like that,” you reply, surprised but not unhappy to see him. “What about you? Aren’t you usually buried in the philosophy section by now?”

He smirks, folding his arms. “Thought I’d check in on my favorite person in this dump. Make sure you’re not losing your mind over comma splices.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Tempting fate, aren’t you? What if I say I already have?”

“Then I’ll sit here and keep you company until you’re sane again,” he says lightly, but there’s a warmth in his tone that catches you off guard. It’s the first time he’s made it clear—he notices you too, maybe more than you’d realized.

And as the evening stretches on, the papers forgotten between quiet conversation and shared silences, you think that maybe, just maybe, this strange, brilliant man is about to become more than just a passing presence in your life.

He’s nicer now.

You don’t know where it came from but maybe it's because he's been nice enough to lend you his jacket when you forget yours, the scent clinging to it wrapping around you so snugly you wish it’d stay there forever — or more likely the way he looks down at you with his molten hazel eyes; but you don't put up much of a fight.

Not when he brings you your coffee every morning with sweet words hanging from his lips and a firm hand on your lower back, guiding you to your seat. Your skin feeling warm after every touch.

In your respective classrooms, teaching separate things, your mind always drifts to the way he’d say specific things in his specific way.

How you’d love to watch him talk about how an author wrote something and why, the spark that you noticed never died from the comforts of his chest that you’d love to lay your hand on, feel the beating of his heart and sync yours with it.

Now as you sit at your desk, trying, to come up with what tomorrow’s lecture will be about and having your students projects graded by the weekend, your mind drifts.

The smell of his cologne that clings to him the way you dream you would, the sharp edges of his face you wish to trace gently, his smile that you want to gaze at day in and day out.

You groan and rub your face with your hands, exasperated. At yourself for thinking of him, or at him for plaguing your mind like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re stressed about me, doll?”

You blink up at him, your hand still half-covering your face. His figure leans casually against the doorframe, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks, the other holding a worn book. That familiar grin is plastered across his face—mischievous and warm, the one that’s always been your undoing, the one that revealed itself after he became comfortable with you.

“Mr. Todd,” You manage, your voice coming out more startled than you’d like. “What are you doing here?”

He steps into the room, his steps unhurried, confident, as if he belongs here. And, in a way, he does. He sets the book down on your desk—a leather-bound copy of Wuthering Heights, of course—before leaning against the edge, his hip brushing the stack of ungraded papers.

“I was walking past and heard you groaning,” he teases, folding his arms over his chest. “Figured you needed a rescue.”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth betrays you by twitching upward. “I wasn’t groaning, just . . . thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I did feel my ears burning?”

Warmth rises to your cheeks, and you quickly duck your head, busying yourself with the papers on your desk. “You wish.”

He laughs, low and rich, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He leans in slightly, close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his cologne—the smell you were just thinking about. “Don’t I?” he murmurs, his voice softer now, teasing but laced with something more sincere.

You pause, your hand freezing mid-motion. When you glance up, his eyes are fixed on you, studying your face as if it’s a puzzle he’s determined to solve. It’s disarming, how easily he can shift from playful to serious, from cocky to earnest.

“You’re impossible, Jason,” You mutter, though there’s no real bite in your tone. Not when his name slips off your tongue like molasses, slow and warm.

“And yet, here I am,” he counters smoothly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He lets out a breath. “So, what’s got you all worked up? Can’t be the papers.” He gestures to the stack dismissively. “You’ve handled worse.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair and rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s nothing. Just . . . a long day.”

Jason tilts his head, unconvinced. But instead of pushing, he reaches for the book he’d brought in, gazing at the cover with a look you can’t identify.“You know,” he starts, his tone casual, “I’ve got this theory about Catherine and Heathcliff.”

You frown, caught off guard. “A theory?”

He nods, settling into the chair across from your desk as if he has all the time in the world. “Yeah. But I’ll only share it if you promise to stop stressing and listen.”

Despite yourself, You smile, leaning forward. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

Jason reaches over and flips to the page he marked, his fingers brushing over the worn edges of the paper like it’s something sacred. You wonder if he marked the page thinking of you.

“See, people think Catherine and Heathcliff are this tragic love story,” He begins, his voice steady and confident. “But I think they’re more like two halves of the same storm—always colliding, always tearing things apart, but never quite able to exist without the other.”

You tilt your head, intrigued despite yourself. “That’s not exactly revolutionary,” you tease, your lips twitching into a smile. “Most people agree their relationship was toxic.”

Jason smirks, leaning back in his chair, watching his hair framing his face in a way that makes you want to take a picture and treasure it forever. “Toxic, sure. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s not about their relationship—it’s about their identities. They’re not just in love with each other. They’re in love with the parts of themselves they see in each other. That’s why they can’t let go.”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his insight. It’s not just what he says—it’s the way he says it, with that spark in his eyes, that fire that reminds you why you fell for him in the first place. “That’s. . . actually a good point,” you admit, crossing your arms. “But what about Cathy marrying Edgar? Doesn’t that contradict your whole theory?”

Jason chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Not at all. Cathy’s not choosing Edgar over Heathcliff—she’s choosing safety. Stability. But deep down, she knows she’s lying to herself. She says it outright: ‘I am Heathcliff.’ She can’t separate herself from him, no matter how hard she tries.”

You lean forward, resting your chin in your hand as you watch him. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he talks—so passionate, so sure of himself. It’s like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you and the story he’s spinning.

“And what about Heathcliff?” you ask softly. “What’s he in love with?”

Jason’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “He’s in love with the idea of her. The version of her he thinks he knows. But it’s not real. She’s as much a ghost to him as she is to anyone else by the end.”

The room falls quiet for a moment, his words hanging in the air between you. You study his face, the way his brow furrows just slightly, the way his jaw tightens like he’s holding something back. It hits you then how much of himself he sees in the story, how much of his own life he’s probably pouring into his interpretation.

“Jason,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He glances up at you, and for a moment, the walls he’s built around himself seem to crack, letting you see the man beneath the bravado.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“Thank you.” The words are simple, but you mean them. For showing up, for distracting you, for reminding you why you fell in love with stories—and with him—in the first place.

His lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and he closes the book, setting it aside. “Anytime, doll,” he murmurs, his voice as soft as yours.

And as the two of you sit there, the papers and the worries forgotten, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is your own version of a love story—messy, complicated, and beautifully imperfect.

It’s in every look, every moment, and every damn smile.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[thatfatbitxch]

Field trip

Pairing: Severus Snape x Prof!reader

Word count: 4,400

Summary: Y/N and Snape have been secretly seeing each other for months, keeping their relationship under wraps. When a field trip to the Muggle world is planned, Y/N convinces Snape to join her. As the trip unfolds, their secret becomes harder to hide.

Note: I had a dream about this and decided to write about it because I thought it would be fun. Not sure if I like it or not yet but oh well. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: subtle sexual innuendos

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The dim candlelight flickered against the stone walls of the dungeons, casting long shadows across Severus Snape’s private quarters. Outside, the castle was silent—everyone asleep in their beds, unaware of the secrets unfolding beneath them.

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be here.

She was supposed to be in her own chambers, sleeping like the rest of the professors, preparing for the staff meeting in the morning. Instead, she was sitting on Snape’s desk, wearing his shirt, watching as he paced across the room. His usual composed expression was intact, but she could tell he was annoyed—though whether it was at her or himself, she wasn’t sure.

“You’re scheming,” he muttered, not bothering to look at her.

Y/N smirked, swinging her legs idly. “Me? I would never.”

Snape shot her a pointed look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

She stretched her arms lazily, letting his oversized shirt fall off one shoulder as she tilted her head. “Fine, you got me. I do need something.”

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course you do.”

Y/N hopped off the desk and closed the space between them, sliding her hands up his chest. “I want to take some of the seventh-years on a trip,” she said sweetly.

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“And I don’t need to.”

She pouted, leaning up to brush her lips against his jaw. “I want to take them to the Muggle world,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “A few days to experience Muggle life before they graduate.”

Snape scoffed. “How utterly foolish.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Some of them want to live in the Muggle world after Hogwarts. Would it kill you to be supportive?”

Snape didn’t answer, though his expression was one of clear disapproval.

She pouted. “You don’t even know where yet.”

Snape scoffed. “I assure you, that is not my concern.”

She stepped even closer, pressing against him, her lips barely brushing his as she whispered, “I need another professor to come with me.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Y/n tilted her head, trailing her fingers down his torso before slipping her hands beneath the waistband of his trousers. He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her hips.

“You’re manipulative,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“I’m resourceful.” She kissed him again, slowly, deeply, until she felt him relax beneath her touch. When she pulled away, she smiled triumphantly. “So, you’ll come?”

His grip on her waist tightened. “You infuriate me.”

“But?”

Snape sighed heavily, his forehead resting against hers for a brief moment. “If I agree to this ridiculous excursion… I expect compensation.”

Y/n smirked. “I think we can arrange something.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The next morning, Y/N sat in the Hogwarts staffroom, confidently addressing the gathered professors.

“I’d like to propose a trip for our seventh-year students who are interested in integrating into Muggle society after Hogwarts,” she announced. “It would be a short excursion—just a few days—where they can experience Muggle life firsthand.”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “That would require significant supervision.”

“And resources,” added Flitwick.

“I’ll take care of the arrangements, I have a lot of muggle contacts who are willing to help.” Y/N assured them. “I just need another professor to accompany me.”

Silence.

No one volunteered.

Y/N suppressed a smirk. Perfect.

���Well,” she said, glancing toward the other end of the table where Snape sat with his arms crossed, looking utterly uninterested. “Professor Snape has graciously agreed to accompany me.”

Every head turned toward Snape. His dark eyes snapped to hers, glaring.

“I—”

“Yes, Severus?” McGonagall prompted, amused.

Snape clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the table. Y/N flashed him an innocent smile.

“…Fine,” he bit out.

Y/N beamed. “Excellent.”

As the meeting continued, she leaned back in her chair, feeling his heated gaze burning into the side of her face.

Oh, he hated her right now.

She couldn’t wait for him to get her alone later.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The moment Y/N and her group stepped into the Muggle world, the energy shifted. The students, a mix of excited and nervous seventh-years, looked around in awe as they took in their surroundings—bustling streets, honking cars, and the ever-present hum of Muggle life.

Snape, however, looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

Y/N had chosen a charming little town just outside of London for the trip. It wasn’t overwhelmingly large, but it was busy enough to give the students a proper taste of Muggle life. The cobblestone streets were lined with small cafés, bookstores, and shops, making it the perfect place for them to explore.

Fred and George had been thrilled from the moment they arrived, immediately elbowing each other and whispering about all the “Muggle mischief” they planned to get into. The rest of the students were more cautious, adjusting to the idea that they were, for the next few days, just another group of ordinary young adults.

Snape, meanwhile, stood rigidly by Y/N’s side, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the street as if someone would jump out and hex them at any moment. He had agreed to dress in Muggle clothing—but only if he was allowed to wear all black.

Which meant that, instead of looking like a normal Muggle, he still looked exactly like himself, just without the billowing robes.

Y/N had tried to convince him to loosen up, even choosing clothes that might make him look a little less… well, Snape-like, but he had refused. So now, he stood in a black wool coat over a black button-up and fitted trousers, looking every bit as menacing as he did at Hogwarts.

“You do realize Muggles don’t usually look like they’re heading to a funeral every day, right?” Y/N teased as she adjusted the strap of her bag.

Snape shot her a glare. “I compromised.”

“If that’s what you call this, sure.” Y/N smirked, tilting her head as she gave him a once-over. “Honestly, if you grew some facial hair, you’d look like John Wick.”

Snape’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Never mind. Muggle reference. But trust me, you’d fit right in as a brooding action hero.”

Snape sneered. “I have no desire to resemble some ridiculous Muggle.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. Dark, mysterious, always dressed in black, terrifying yet strangely attractive? You might have more in common than you think.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “If you continue down this line of conversation, I will deduct points.”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “From whom, exactly?”

He hesitated, clearly annoyed by the flaw in his threat. “I’ll find a way.”

Y/N chuckled, falling into step beside him. “Whatever you say, Professor Wick.”

She, on the other hand, had no trouble blending in. She had picked out a casual but stylish outfit—jeans, a cozy sweater, and boots that wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Unlike Snape, she actually enjoyed this.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, turning to the students. “Remember, for the next few days, we are Muggles. That means no magic, no talking about Hogwarts, and no trying to pass yourselves off as wizards.”

A few of them nodded seriously, while Fred and George exchanged mischievous grins.

“I mean it,” Y/N added, pointing at them. “Behave.”

“We always behave, Professor,” Fred said, all innocence.

“Yes, impeccably,” George added.

Y/N sighed, knowing full well that was a lie.

Beside her, Snape muttered, “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Relax,” she murmured back. “Try to have a little fun.”

Snape sneered, but before he could argue, Y/N clapped her hands together and gestured toward the street. “Let’s get checked into the inn, and then we’ll go over the itinerary.”

The inn was small and cozy, tucked between a bakery and a bookshop. It had the charm of an old-world Muggle establishment, complete with floral wallpaper and creaky wooden floors.

At the front desk, a kind older woman greeted them with a warm smile. “Welcome! You must be the group I spoke to on the phone.”

“That’s us,” Y/N said, returning the smile. “We have enough rooms for everyone, correct?”

“Of course. Two students per room. And for the professors…?” The woman looked between Y/N and Snape, hesitating.

Before Y/N could answer, Snape spoke in a sharp tone. “Separate rooms.”

The woman blinked at his tone, but nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Y/N fought back a laugh. Snape had spoken way too fast, and it wasn’t lost on Fred and George, who were already whispering behind them.

Once they received their room keys, Y/N turned to the students. “Alright, everyone pair up. Unpack, settle in, and meet back in the lobby in an hour.”

As the students grabbed their keys and headed to their rooms, Fred and George lingered, watching Y/N and Snape with far too much interest

“You two sure do hate each other,” Fred mused.

“Yes,” George nodded. “One might say you despise each other a bit too much.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What exactly are you implying?”

Fred smirked. “Oh, nothing at all.”

Snape leveled them with a dark glare. “Get. To. Your. Room.”

The twins grinned at each other before heading off, whispering as they went.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “They’re onto us.”

Snape scowled. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

Y/N just smiled, reaching over to straighten his collar before heading to her own room.

This trip was going to be very interesting.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Y/N had planned a full day of Muggle activities for the students, and she was absolutely thrilled about it. Snape, on the other hand, looked like he was suffering through some sort of medieval torture.

“Alright, everyone,” Y/N said, clapping her hands together as they stood outside a quaint little café. “We’re starting off with something simple—ordering food and drinks like proper Muggles.”

The students nodded, and Fred elbowed George. “D’you think they have pumpkin juice?”

George grinned. “If not, I suppose we’ll have to survive on whatever it is Muggles drink.”

Snape muttered something under his breath about insufferable Gryffindors.

Y/N ignored him and led the group inside. The café was warm and smelled of coffee and pastries. The students hesitated, unsure of what to order, so Y/N helped them read the menu.

“You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” she murmured to Snape as he stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed.

“This is ridiculous,” he hissed back. “I have no interest in—”

“Here’s your coffee, love,” the barista said, handing Y/N her drink.

“Thank you,” she replied with a bright smile before turning to Snape. “What about you? You do drink coffee.”

Snape sneered but muttered, “Black. No sugar.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Shocking.”

He glared at her, but a few minutes later, when the drinks were ready, she was surprised to see Snape hand over the money for hers along with his own.

The students noticed too.

A few of them exchanged glances, and one Ravenclaw, Sophie, raised an eyebrow. “Professor Snape just bought you coffee?”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but Snape beat her to it. “She’ll find some way to make me regret this later,” he drawled, taking a sip of his own drink.

That seemed to satisfy the students, but Sophie still looked suspicious.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The museum was grand, its high ceilings and marble floors giving it an almost regal feel. Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement as they entered, the scent of aged books, polished wood, and history filling the air.

“This place is amazing,” she said to the group. “It covers everything from Muggle history to science, but the art section is my personal favorite.”

Snape gave an unimpressed glance at the museum map she held. “Of course it is,” he muttered.

Y/N ignored his sarcasm and turned to the students. “Everyone, take a map. You have an two hours to explore—stay in pairs at the very least. Meet back at the entrance hall when you’re done and remember, no wizard business.”

The students dispersed, some heading toward the history exhibits while others whispered excitedly about the dinosaur skeletons they had glimpsed down another hall.

Y/N, however, had only one destination in mind—the art gallery.

She turned to Snape, grinning. “Come on. You’re going to love this.”

“I highly doubt that,” he replied dryly, but he followed her nonetheless.

The gallery was quiet, filled with soft lighting that made the paintings glow as if they were alive. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of oil paint and aged canvas. This was her favorite place in any museum—the heart of human creativity, emotions spilled across canvas in brushstrokes and color.

Snape, predictably, looked bored.

Y/N elbowed him. “Don’t look so miserable. This is beautiful.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s paint on canvas.”

She scoffed. “It’s more than that, and you know it. Look at this one.”

They moved through the gallery together, Y/N eagerly pointing out various styles—Baroque, Impressionism, Realism—while Snape, though reluctant at first, listened with mild curiosity.

When they reached a large abstract piece—a swirl of chaotic brushstrokes in deep reds and blacks—Snape finally spoke up.

“This,” he said flatly, “is absurd.”

Y/N laughed. “It’s abstract expressionism. It’s about emotion rather than realism.”

“It looks like someone accidentally knocked over their paint.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Severus. You understand potions. You know the way different ingredients come together to create something meaningful. It’s the same with art—though if I’m being honest this one isn’t one of my favourites. ”

He exhaled sharply, clearly not convinced, but there was something amused in his gaze.

Y/N smirked. “I bet you’d love the Dark Romanticism section.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Dark Romanticism?”

“Dramatic, brooding, full of suffering and existential dread?” She grinned. “It’s basically you in art form.”

Snape scoffed, but she didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth almost twitched upward.

As they neared the end of the gallery, Y/N reached for a museum guidebook from a nearby shelf. It was heavier than expected, and she awkwardly tried to juggle it alongside her bag and coffee.

Before she could struggle further, Snape effortlessly took her drink and bag from her so she could grab the book.

Y/N blinked up at him smiling in surprise, but before she could say anything—

A student saw.

A Slytherin boy, Adam, was standing a few feet away, watching them with narrowed eyes.

Y/N cleared her throat, taking the book as casually as possible, with little space between then y/n backed up. “Thanks.”

Snape gave a nonchalant shrug, but the damage was done. Adam’s gaze lingered for a moment before he walked off, suspicion evident in his expression.

Y/N sighed. “You’re being too nice.”

Snape smirked slightly, voice low. “Then perhaps I should let you struggle next time.”

“Rude.”

They continued through the gallery, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that their little secret was getting harder to keep.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Their last stop before dinner was a shopping district, where the students had free time to explore Muggle stores.

Y/N and Snape walked together, keeping an eye on everyone, when she noticed something. “Sev, look at this.”

It was a slip of the tongue—she had gotten so used to saying his nickname in private that it just… happened.

Snape froze. The students definitely noticed.

Sophie, ever the observant Ravenclaw, turned around. “Did you just call him Sev?”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It’s just—”

“She’s gotten into the bad habit of calling all the professors nicknames,” Snape cut in smoothly, his tone sharp. “She finds it quite amusing but I don’t enjoy it. I wish you’d stop with that honestly.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes, but before she could question it, Fred and George reappeared, loudly declaring their victory in finding the worst Muggle clothing possible.

The subject was dropped—for now.

But Y/N knew they weren’t done being watched.

And, judging by the barely-there smirk on Snape’s face, he knew it too.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The small Muggle inn was quaint, with narrow hallways and creaky wooden floors. After a long day of navigating Muggle London, the students had finally settled into their rooms for the night, exhausted from walking, shopping, and���most amusingly—watching Snape suffer through every moment of it.

After supper, Y/N had bid the students goodnight, acting every bit the responsible professor. But the moment she was certain everyone was settled, her mind drifted elsewhere.

To him.

It wasn’t unusual for her and Snape to sneak around, stealing moments behind closed doors, but tonight, it felt riskier. The walls were thinner, the students only a few doors down, but the thought of being alone with him—even just for a short while—was irresistible.

So, she waited.

Once the inn had fallen into silence and the hallways were still, she slipped out of her room, her bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. She didn’t bother knocking when she reached Snape’s door—just slipped inside and locked it behind her.

Snape was standing by the small window, his long black coat draped over the chair, his usual scowl in place.

“You’re reckless,” he muttered, though his eyes darkened as they met hers.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. “And yet, you still let me in.”

Snape exhaled slowly, watching her as she moved toward him.

“You looked miserable today,” she teased, reaching up to undo the top button of his crisp black shirt. “I thought I’d come cheer you up.”

His lips quirked. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Her fingers trailed down his chest, undoing another button.

Snape’s hands found her waist, pulling her against him. His breath was warm against her skin as he muttered, “This is a terrible idea.”

Y/N only grinned, tilting her head up to kiss him. His grip on her tightened, his lips rough but eager against hers. The air between them grew heated quickly—her fingers tangling in his hair, his hands wandering lower. He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the door as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Then—

A noise.

Footsteps. Voices.

Y/N froze.

Snape, always sharp, pulled back immediately, his eyes narrowing as he listened.

The voices were muffled but unmistakable.

Fred and George.

They were sneaking out.

Y/N scrambled out of Snape’s grip, nearly tripping as she grabbed her discarded shirt from the floor and yanked it over her head. Snape muttered something about damn Gryffindors as she hastily straightened her clothes.

“You owe me for this,” he murmured, amused despite his annoyance.

Y/N shot him a look before cracking open the door.

Sure enough, Fred and George were tiptoeing down the hallway, whispering excitedly about a late-night Muggle adventure.

Y/N stepped out into the hall. “And where exactly do you two think you’re going?”

The twins froze.

Fred turned first, eyes widening. “Professor Y/N! What are you doing out here?”

George smirked. “More importantly, why are you coming out of his room?”

Y/N’s mind raced. “I—uh—”

“We were… discussing disciplinary measures,” Snape’s smooth voice cut in as he stepped into the doorway behind her.

Fred raised a brow. “In the middle of the night?”

“With the door locked?” George added, grinning.

Y/N forced a sigh. “Yes. Because some of you cannot be trusted not to sneak out.” She folded her arms, trying to appear stern. “Clearly, we were right to be concerned.”

Fred and George exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, this is brilliant,” George said.

“Absolutely brilliant,” Fred agreed.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Go back to bed before I make you have a disciplinary meeting with Snape.”

Fred raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But just so you know—”

George grinned. “We’re definitely telling everyone.”

Y/N groaned as they hurried off down the hall. She turned back to Snape, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well,” she muttered. “That could’ve gone better.”

Snape smirked. “It could have gone much worse.”

Y/N sighed. “I should go before they actually wake up the others.”

She hesitated, glancing at him.

Snape reached for her wrist, pulling her back just enough to press a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Next time,” he murmured, “just ignore them and stay with me.”

Y/N grinned, slipping away.

It was going to be very difficult denying things in the morning.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The last day of the trip had gone surprisingly well. The students had enjoyed their time in the Muggle world, and despite his usual grumbling, Snape had survived it. But as the trip neared its end, Y/N found herself itching for just one last stolen moment alone with him before they returned to Hogwarts.

So, when she caught Snape lingering near the back of the inn entrance, away from the others, she saw her opportunity.

“We have a few minutes before we leave,” she whispered, tugging him into a quiet hallway near an old stairwell.

Snape sighed, but there was no real resistance as he allowed her to press him against the wall. “You are reckless,” he murmured, but his hands were already on her waist.

Y/N smirked. “And yet, you’re still here.”

His lips were on hers before she could tease him further. The kiss was slow, deep, filled with everything they could never say aloud. Y/N melted into him, fingers curling into his robes as his hands slid up her back.

They were so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

Didn’t hear the whispering.

Didn’t hear the muffled snicker until—

“OH MY GOD.”

Y/N and Snape ripped apart.

Fred and George stood in the doorway, identical expressions of sheer delight plastered on their faces.

“SNAPE HAS A GIRLFRIEND?” Fred practically shouted.

Snape’s face contorted in horror. “Lower your voice!”

George, still grinning, turned to Fred. “This is historic.”

Fred nodded. “This is unbelievable.”

Y/N, still breathless, held up her hands. “This is not what it looks like.”

Fred and George exchanged glances.

“Ohhh, so you weren’t just snogging our professor against a wall?” Fred asked innocently.

“No, no,” George said with mock seriousness. “I’m sure we imagined it.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the twins bolted.

Snape swore under his breath. “They’re going to tell everyone.”

Y/N groaned. “We are so screwed.”

By the time they returned to the group, the damage had already been done.

Every single student was looking at them differently.

Some smirked knowingly. Others whispered to their friends, stealing glances at Snape and Y/N. The buzz of hushed excitement was almost unbearable.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Lee Jordan grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just discussing a very interesting development.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“We’re just curious,” Angelina said, barely holding back a smirk. “Because rumor has it—you and Professor Snape—”

“Are madly in love,” Fred finished dramatically.

Snape made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a strangled groan.

Y/N crossed her arms. “That is ridiculous.”

“Sure,” George said, grinning. “It’s totally normal for two people who hate each other to disappear alone all the time.”

“And for Snape to buy you coffee,” Alicia Spinnet added.

“And to call each other nicknames,” Katie Bell chimed in.

“And to be caught full-on snogging,” Fred finished triumphantly.

The entire group burst into laughter as Y/N felt her face burn.

Snape’s expression darkened. “This is utterly—”

“So how long have you two been secretly dating?” Lee interrupted.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed. “We—we aren’t.”

“Oh, of course not,” George said, grinning. “You just happened to be ‘discussing disciplinary measures’—”

“—with your tongues down each other’s throats,” Fred finished.

The group howled with laughter.

Y/N turned to Snape, wide-eyed. “Do something.”

Snape’s scowl deepened. “Detention. All of you as soon as we get back”

Fred wiped away a fake tear. “Oh, Professor, you wound us.”

Y/N groaned as Fred and George slung their arms around each other and started theatrically re-enacting what they imagined the kiss had looked like.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “I loathe them.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The trip back to Hogwarts was filled with an air of tension, but the awkwardness mostly came from the students’ constant whispering and knowing glances. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of their stares, even though she kept her gaze down, trying to avoid catching anyone’s eye. The train was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of students making theories and comments that were just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Every time she glanced toward Snape, he was staring out the window, his usual scowl in place. But this time, it seemed even more pronounced, as if he was trying to block out everything around him. Y/N’s stomach flipped, the embarrassment of getting caught still fresh on her mind.

Then Fred’s voice broke the tension.

“So, Professor Snape, when’s the wedding?” he called from a few carriages ahead, clearly loud enough for the whole group to hear.

Y/N’s face went beet red, and she quickly dropped her head into her hands, groaning. She could feel the heat of Snape’s stare, but when she looked up, he was still staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging Fred’s comment. He didn’t say anything, but Y/N could see the tightness in his jaw. Despite everything, there was something almost… amused about his reaction. Maybe he didn’t care as much as he seemed to. Y/n was surprised to see snape let them talk to him this way at all.

“Did you make her a love potion?” George added with a mischievous grin, and Y/N could feel Snape’s gaze flicker toward her for a moment, though he didn’t respond.

She couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. The teasing was non-stop, but it wasn’t just the twins—it was the whole group now. The students had their theories, and the awkwardness was palpable. As the carriage trundled on, it seemed like no one could stop themselves from whispering about the unexpected turn of events.

Finally, as they neared Hogwarts, Y/N decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She walked over to Snape, who was still resolutely staring out the window, trying to pretend like he was unaffected.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Y/N said quietly, leaning toward him. “What should we do? This is… a disaster.”

Snape turned to look at her then, his gaze unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he smirked just a little.

“Nothing. Who cares what they think?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why we were hiding it in the first place.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, and before she could say another word, Snape leaned in and kissed her right in front of the entire carriage. The students, who had been watching from every angle, went absolutely silent. Y/N could feel the shock and surprise from all sides, but she didn’t care.

When they finally pulled apart, she looked at him, a little stunned, but Snape just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well, that should clear up any confusion,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

As they disembarked from the train, the students were whispering among themselves, but this time it didn’t bother Y/N. With Snape by her side, nothing else mattered.