Prof. BangChan · Y/n story by @Whitestaker123

The late morning sun cut across the quad, dappling the worn brick path underfoot. Students streamed in both directions, a river of backpacks and murmured conversation.

Ella

I just hope he doesn’t smoke like the last one. grumbles from beside Y/n, adjusting the strap of her bag Professor Miller’s lectures always smelled like an ashtray.

The Humanities building loomed ahead, its heavy oak doors propped open. A steady flow of classmates filed inside, their chatter echoing in the high-ceilinged foyer.

Ella

Come on, we don’t want to be late for the grand reveal.

The lecture hall was a steep amphitheater of scarred wooden desks. Most of the front rows were already filling. At the focus of the room, a young man with tousled dark hair stood with his back to the door, arranging a stack of books on the lectern.

Christopher Bang

Welcome everyone! Sit anywhere, we’ll begin shortly.

His voice was warm, carrying a distinct Australian lilt. He turned back to the lectern briefly, and a low, muttered phrase—sounding like Korean—drifted to the front rows. He faced the class again, a bright, dimpled smile appearing.

Christopher Bang

My name is Christopher Bang. But you can call me professor. C, or professor Chan, or… whatever, as long as it’s not a curse, really. brushes a bit of chalk dust from his dark sweater, the smile lingering