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gwentoryfics · 5 years

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Hot for Teacher, Part 1.

REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Hongseok x Reader x Hyunggu (Kino)

Words | 9.5k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Alcohol and underage drinking. Swearing. Dangerous levels of lust.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • More Coming Soon AO3 | 1 • 2

Playlist | Spotify • Youtube

Note | Due to excessive references to American music, I’ve decided to set this fic in America instead of South Korea. Names will follow the American standard of (First Name) (Last Name), instead of the Korean (Family Name) (Given Name). I’ve also linked a playlist (above) that includes any referenced songs, artists, or other music that helps set the vibe, so please check it out!

This can’t be happening. This absolutely, cannot be happening to you right now.

You stare at your professor in shock from the safety of the back of the classroom, hoping to all that is holy that he will not look up to find you sitting there. How could he of all people be your professor? How could you possibly be so unlucky?

Your heart races as your mind clouds over with the memory of that night, of the press of his lips and the fervid insistence of his hands as they explored your body. In a night of slightly drunken passion, you had unknowingly slept with the man who was apparently fated to be your professor. You feel like you could cry from embarrassment, and you bury your head in your notebook as he begins roll call.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Your friend Shinhye leans over, voice thick with worry.

You nod, not exactly wanting to fill her in on quite possibly the biggest blunder of your life. Maybe you’d share the story of your sexual escapades with her at some point, but sitting in the same room as your partner in crime is not the time or place to do so. “I’m fine. Just having second thoughts about the class.”

“Shinhye Nam?” He calls flatly from the front of the class.

“Here!” She pipes up and then whispers to you, “What? You’ve been looking forward to this class for months!”

“Yeah, but-”

“_____?” The sound of his voice wrapping around the syllables of your name sends a delicious shiver down your spine. You remember that sound, remember exactly the song of your name as it poured from his lungs that night.

“Here,” you respond meekly, lifting your notebook a fraction higher to give you more cover. Does he remember your name? Does he recognize your voice? Does he remember you at all? Surely he hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget your tryst.

He moves on to the next name without pause, without even sparing a glance your way. Maybe he had forgotten after all. Maybe you’ve been completely wiped from his memory of that night. Or, conversely, maybe he had only forgotten your name, just as you’ve forgotten his. That doesn’t necessarily mean that your night together was insignificant to him.

It should have been insignificant, though. That’s how hookups work. You bite down on your lip and curse yourself for all of the stupid feelings that flood you, curse the way your heart pounds harder just being in the same room as him. It was just one night, and even though it rocked you to your core it was nothing more than a one-and-done rendezvous.

It was maybe a month and a half ago, but your memory of it is much clearer than it should be, especially given the alcohol consumption that colored most of your evening in a rosy haze. Maybe you had worked overtime to engrain every little detail into your memory because you knew you would never want to forget.

Your cousin’s wedding was a gorgeous affair. Lavish floral arrangements adorned the walls and pews, and sanctuary of the church, each bundle of white roses bound together with violet ribbons and lace. Music floated out from grand piano and violin duo, and oh what you would have done to get your hands on that Steinway. Its tone was pure as snow and you bet it played like a dream. And with the reverberating acoustics of the tall church ceiling, its sound was nothing short of angelic.

The priest led the groom in from the side. You had not yet met Hwitaek, but he was handsome and bore a kind, nervous smile. He looked like exactly the kind of guy Jiyoo would fall for, and it made you happy to see the apparent anxious excitement he had for the event.

The music changed and the processional began. The bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle two at a time, arm in arm, and you were captivated by the elegant dresses the bridal party wore. The purple of their gowns exactly matched the accents of the flowers in their bouquets, and the bodices were intricately decorated with the finest crystals. The girls absolutely sparkled. But, of course, they could never outshine the bride.

All of the attendants stood as the music changed once more, signaling the entrance of the bride. Jiyoo appeared at the end of the aisle, clinging to her father’s arm as they slowly moved forward. The skirt of her ballgown dress nearly filled the whole aisle, and the sweetheart neckline hid behind a sheer lace boat neck top with cap sleeves. It was so stunningly her. And her bouquet was dripping with crystals, her veil and train similarly doused in glitz. But above all, she looked so, so happy.

She joined Hwitaek, passing off her bouquet and taking his hand, and you realized that he had tears in his eyes. Yes, he was definitely the sweetheart for Jiyoo.

The priest opened the ceremony with a prayer, and you obediently bowed your head, although you were admittedly on the fence about your religious beliefs. Still, you sent out some hopeful well-wishes for the soon-to-be newlyweds, because it couldn’t hurt to put some good energy out into the universe.

The ceremony proceeded, and although beautiful, it certainly lacked entertainment value. Not that weddings are meant to be entertaining, per se, but the more religious ceremonies could really drudge on, in your opinion. This one was certainly no exception. There were plenty of scripture readings and hymns, most of which you knew by heart due to spending your childhood in a very similar church. But right as you were starting to feel boredom blur your focus, you noticed him.

He was a groomsman, two down the line from Hwitaek. His tux looked as though it had been made for him, crisp and clean and sitting just right on his broad shoulders. He could have been a model, or a celebrity even, for all you knew. He was certainly far too gorgeous to just be an ordinary person. His dark hair hung soft on his forehead, his eyes were sharp, his lips were plush. How had it taken you so long to notice him?

For the rest of the ceremony you found yourself to be quite preoccupied, as one would imagine. The borderline salacious thoughts that filtered through your mind almost made you feel uncomfortable to be sitting in the house of God, so you did your best to train your eyes on Jiyoo and Hwitaek instead of the unfortunate, unreal beauty of the groomsman.

Finally, after far too long of a ceremony, the couple shared their first kiss as husband and wife, and the whole party recessed down the aisle. You thought you were in the clear, since The World’s Biggest Distraction was finally leaving, but then the damn boy looked squarely at you as he walked by.

You swear your panties literally (not literally) disintegrated.

Back in the classroom, Shinhye kicks your chair, startling you back to the present. “Girl, snap out of it. Why are you so spacey?��

You sit up a little straighter, dropping your notebook onto the desk and blurting, “Yeah, no, it’s fine.”

Your nonsense earns you a weird look, which you make right back at her before glancing to the front of the room, where The Hottest Professor is staring right at you.

Well, you couldn’t have avoided it forever.

His gaze lingers just long enough for you to know that he recognizes you, that he’s having the same mild freakout as you. So he does remember.

Clearing his throat, he breaks eye contact and casually looks around the room as he introduces himself. “Good morning everyone, and welcome to the first day of classes. I am Professor Yang. It is very nice to meet all of you.” He picks up a stack of papers from his desk and starts passing the packets down each row, working his way to the back of the room. “This is a two-part class. For the first seven weeks we will meet here in the classroom and learn the basics of physics as they pertain to musical instruments. The following eight weeks will be spent in the workshop across the hall, where you will each build your own instrument with my guidance.”

You intentionally keep your eyes glued to the blank page of your notebook, and you curse yourself for having chosen the seat at the beginning of the row. He holds the last of his packets out to you, standing close enough that you can smell the sweet cardamom and bergamot of his cologne. Damn, you love that smell.

“You’ll notice my office hours listed here on the syllabus. My office is right down at the end of the hall. Please feel free to stop in if there are ever any questions or concerns about the course material.”

It feels as though his words are directed specifically at you instead of the entirety of the class, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re only imagining it. You begrudgingly peek up at him and he nods encouragingly, still waiting for you to take the papers. When you finally grab the meager stack, he immediately heads back to the front of the class without so much as a smile. But what else should you expect? He’s probably not happy about this situation either.

The syllabus states his office location and hours as well as a phone number, which you assume is for an office phone. He would be insane to give out his personal phone number, especially being as attractive as he is. Students would certainly take advantage of that, yourself not included. You know better. You want absolutely nothing to do with this man if he’s your teacher.

Professor Hongseok Yang. You groan and slump down in your chair.

What have you done?

The reception was held in the banquet hall of a hotel not too far from the church. It was an elegant setting, with pretty white tables and chairs and more of the same extravagant floral arrangements for centerpieces. The lavender lighting cast a soft glow on the sheer white curtains billowing softly by the open windows, a pleasant summer breeze filling the room with fresh air. The calming color and soothing evening air did nothing to relax your nerves, though, your leg jiggling up and down to release the nervous energy within you.

You anxiously awaited the arrival of the wedding party, sipping at the champagne meant for a toast and convincing yourself that you were getting worked up over nothing. It’s not like anything would happen. You would never in a million years work up the courage necessary to speak to the groomsman. He was way out of your league; you’d just clam up and look like an idiot if you tried to start a conversation. It would definitely be much safer to keep to yourself.

Really, the whole thing was stupid. You were there to support your cousin, not to fawn over some guy. It was absurd for you to be so bothered by your sudden love interest to the point of meticulously planning out the rest of the night in order to avoid being around him. Yet there you were, completely intent on spending the night at your table, having a night of simple conversation and safe, good fun. And eventually you’d get out of your seat to congratulate the happy couple, but that’s it. Your mom would be so proud.

Your cousin had been kind enough to seat you at a table with your other cousins instead of your parents. You wouldn’t have minded sitting with your parents, but if you had the choice you’d much rather be around people your own age. Your parents could be a little uptight (well, more than a little, especially when going to family events), and even if you were going to have a low-key night, you’d have a much better time gossiping with your cousins instead of constantly having to reassure your mother that she looks just as beautiful as your aunts without looking overdone.

All you wanted was a relaxed, stress free night. But when had things ever gone the way you planned?

You had tried not to stare at him. You really had. But some things just can’t be helped. The wedding party made their entrance, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He glowed when he smiled, burning brighter than the sun, but you were unable to look away and save yourself, completely trapped in the warmth of his light.

You realized that at least a fraction of your attraction to him was likely due to the personality you were projecting onto him - he seemed clever, funny, stubborn - but he might not have been any of those things. Maybe he was bookish, or a sports fanatic. Maybe he loved puppies and children, or cigarettes and motorcycles. You only had one way to find out for sure, but you would certainly not be learning those things about him tonight or any other night.

When the meal was finished and the dancing had begun, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He and the other groomsmen partied hard, tearing up the dance floor and taking full advantage of the open bar. The particular man that had caught your eye left his jacket at the table, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms - dangerous, as you were far too easily affected by impressive vasculature. He had to be covered in muscles, you just knew it.

Minseo, who had been sitting next to you all night, returned from the bar with a round of beverages for the both of you. “Bless Jiyoo for asking a friend to bartend. He’s not carding and honestly he’s super cute.”

“What I’m hearing is that we need to down these drinks as fast as possible so you can get back up there and talk to him again.” You gratefully accepted the wine glass, immediately pulling it to your lips and taking a deep sip of the dry, fruity beverage.

“Not a bad idea. And next time I’ll get a more complicated drink.” She smiled mischievously, taking a long sip of her own wine, which was already half finished. “What about you? When are you gonna go out there and dance? He’ll never notice you sitting over here.”

Wine dribbled down your chin when you pulled away from your glass too soon, and you sloppily wiped it off with the back of your hand before it could drip onto your dress. “What? Who? What are you talking about?” You blubbered, face growing warm, realizing that she had caught you. Your staring must have been too obvious.

“Come on. The groomsman. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. I’m telling you to go make a move.” She plopped into her seat. “Seriously. Go get it.”

Vehemently shaking your head, you refuse to take her up on any of her ludicrous suggestions. “Are you kidding me? I can’t just walk up to him and… and…”

“No, you’re right, you’re right. We’ll go together.” Minseo downed the rest of her drink and waited for you to do the same.

You continued your head-shaking routine, adding a finger wag for emphasis. “No way. I’m staying right here where it’s safe. The DJ isn’t that great anyway. Do you hear this music? I can’t dance to this.”

Just as soon as you mentioned it, the music cut out, drawing your attention to the DJ’s stand. Shinhye twisted in her seat to look over. “What’s he doing? The song isn’t even over.”

“See? I told you-”

“Alright, single ladies!” The DJ shouted way too loudly into the microphone. “Let’s get all of you out here and toss that bouquet!”

Minseo’s head whipped around like something out of a horror movie. Before she could say a single word, you took to shaking your head once more. “No, no, no. I am not going up there.”

You knew she wouldn’t listen to your futile attempts at refusal. Minseo stood, forcefully grabbing your wrists and yanking you out of your chair. “Come on, it’s for Jiyoo. Just stand there and look involved.”

Begrudgingly, you let her drag you to the center of the room, where you joined at least fifteen other bachelorettes. You tucked yourself amongst them, wishing you could just be invisible. Jiyoo smiled brightly at her flock of targets before turning her back, and when the DJ counted down from three, she flung her beautiful bouquet into the air.

And wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing flew right for you.

It arced high in the air, but it didn’t take a genius to see where it was going to land. You lifted your hands and it fell right into your grasp; you didn’t even have to reach for it. The room was all cheers and applause as you very suddenly became the center of attention, Jiyoo closing in to congratulate you.

“Ahhh, my baby cousin!” She squealed as she wrapped her arms around you in a big hug, her poofy dress swallowing your legs. “You know that means you’re next, right?”

“Next to get married?” You question with a quiet laugh. “That seems unlikely. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how very much single I am.”

“But the flowers have commanded that you’ll fall in love.” Jiyoo winked playfully, and you couldn’t help but smile, even if you didn’t believe in such superstitions.

The wedding photographer snapped a few photos of the two of you, and for a moment you forgot all about the beautiful distraction that was currently seated at the head table. You squeezed your cousin tightly, congratulating her on this big step into womanhood. “I’m so happy for you, Jiyoo! Your new husband is super cute, too.”

“He is, isn’t he.” She smiled wide and then gasped. “You haven’t met him yet, have you?”

“Not yet, actually.”

Nodding her head towards the front of the room, she took your hand sweetly. “That needs to change. You’ll love him.”

“I’m sure I will.” You laughed and eagerly followed her to their table before you could realize who else waited there. And by the time you saw the groomsman seated there, it was already too late.

“Hwitaek!” Jiyoo called as you both approached. “Come here, sweetie.”

Hwitaek, who was mid-conversation with the cause of your demise, patted said instigator on the back and looped around the table to come meet you. You fixated on him to keep your eyes from straying over to the man with the perfect face, and it seemed to work out okay.

“Hwitaek, this is my cousin, _____.” Jiyoo introduced you. “She caught the bouquet!”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Hwitaek enthusiastically drew you into a hug, and you wondered if the extremely friendly gesture was at all fueled by alcohol. Maybe he was just a friendly guy. “Congratulations on the bouquet catch!”

“Thank you,” you laughed as he released you. “And congratulations to you on the marriage! That’s certainly a bigger deal than the flowers.”

He smiled sweetly, tucking Jiyoo under his arm. “Thank you. I’m a very lucky man. She’s my best friend.”

Jiyoo beamed, and your heart warmed. They were absolutely precious together, the love between them practically tangible. Maybe one day you could find a love like that.

Just then, the DJ came in with some shitty, generic pop song, and Jiyoo perked up. “Oh my gosh, I love this song! Let’s dance!” She started to pull both you and Hwitaek back towards the dance floor, but you returned to your default mode.

“I’m actually really thirsty, so I’m going to get some more to drink. But you two have fun!” It was much easier to slip out of Jiyoo’s grip than it was when Minseo held your wrist, and Jiyoo and Hwitaek carried on just fine without you.

And then you made the mistake of turning directly towards the hot groomsman.

You met his eyes and froze. Everything stopped. Your tongue dried up, nothing more than a hardened sponge in your mouth, and your pulse slowed to a halt. You were dead. Absolutely, unequivocally dead. Taken by the unmatched lethal power of a perfectly executed seductive gaze.

Jesus Christ, you were drowning in lust.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking amused by the goldfish expression you bore. “Hi.”

Oh, dear Lord, even his voice was beautiful. You needed to get out of there fast. With a nod and awkward sort of salute, you took off, finding solace in the safety of your table. You plopped into your chair and practically inhaled the rest of your wine, dropping the bouquet onto the table and wondering how much longer you would have to suffer through this reception.

It would have been nice to have some relief. To get a moment to compose yourself and let your heart rate return to normal. But Minseo, the everloving bane of your existence, could not let that happen.

You spotted her on the dance floor. She looked over her shoulder back at you, a devilish expression on her face, and you realized that she was definitely up to no good.

Minseo had always been a troublemaker and bad influence over you. She was your closest cousin for sure, and had been a good friend of yours all your life. You loved her to death, but Jesus Christ she really knew how to push your buttons.

Born without a single shy bone in her body, she practically shimmied right up to the groomsmen, targeting the one with the sharp eyes and plush lips and dark, soft hair. The one with his sleeves rolled up, the one that you’re convinced is the most attractive man to ever exist. She zeroed in on him, leaning in far too close as she spoke into his ear. And then she pulled back only to point at you, and suddenly his eyes were locked on yours once more.

And this time, he smiled. Oh Lord in Heaven, he smiled. At you. And your heart went up in flames. Total destruction. There were no survivors.

You ripped your eyes from his, suddenly sweating profusely and somehow out of breath. Your trembling hands lifted the remainder of Minseo’s wine to your mouth and you sucked it all down, realizing that you were far too sober to make it through the night alive. And much to your terror, you set the empty glass onto the table and looked up to see him headed straight for you.

Panicked, you rose to your feet and took off in the opposite direction, hurtling yourself towards the bathroom so you could hide.

Once you burst through the door, you flicked cold water onto the back of your neck, wishing you could douse your whole face in it without messing up your makeup. Instead you just took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself because you were clearly overreacting in every sense of the word.

Why were you so terrified? He was just a guy, albeit a drop dead gorgeous one. That kind of beauty was frankly quite intimidating, though, and you just knew you’d look like an idiot if you had to say a single word to him.

You considered a plethora of escape routes, including begging your parents to drive you home early and climbing out of the small frosted-glass window right there in the corner of the bathroom. But were you really that much of a chicken? Were you really going to let one attractive guy scare you off?

Then you remembered the way he smiled, remembered the way you trembled at the sight of him. He intrigued you, piqued your interest. You were curious what he might be like as a person, a kisser, a lover. You nursed your lower lip between teeth, absolutely giddy at the thought of getting him alone. Sex with him would be incredible, no doubt about it.

Since when were you so shameless, imagining all sorts of lewd scenarios centering around a complete stranger, though gorgeous he may be? You didn’t do hookups. You didn’t do one night stands. Sleeping around was not your thing. But with him… you felt inclined to completely abandon your sense of morality. He sparked something within you that you hadn’t felt, well, probably ever.

That was likely why you were terrified enough to run and hide the second he turned his attention your way - because you had the vague feeling that you would let him do anything he wanted to you, and it’s both thrilling and frightening to know someone could have that kind of power. Especially when you don’t even know the man. Sure, you have a history of being unable to function properly around attractive males in your usual sober circumstances. But this was definitely more than just a fear of looking a fool. It was you avoiding the dangerous call of forbidden pleasures and the path to losing your morality. But most of all, it was the distress over the unsettling feeling that you might actually be okay with stepping out of your comfort zone if it meant you could experience him.

You just weren’t sure how to deal with any of that.

As class wraps up, you pack up your things and wonder if you should say something to him. Should you acknowledge what happened between you? Or would it be best to just ignore it, pretend like it never happened? Maybe you should just let him take the lead on this one.

Before you can really decide one way or the other, Shinhye starts making a scene. “You know, ______, maybe you’re right to be second guessing this class. I’m not sure an eight AM is good for you. Did you pay attention at all?”

“It’s not a big deal, Shinhye, honest.” You speak quietly but harshly, your words carrying more bite than you intend. You glance up at Professor Yang, who is also gathering his things. If he’s eavesdropping on the conversation, he certainly gives no sign of it.

“Really? I’ve never seen you so distracted. Maybe bring a coffee next week. He said he’ll allow drinks in the classroom.”

You sling your backpack over your shoulder, muttering under your breath. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Alright, now she’s awake!” Shinhye grabs her bag and leads the way.

As you follow her to the door, you peek over at Professor Yang again. He’s busying himself with unplugging his laptop from the projector, and he doesn’t even spare a glance your way as you exit the room. You hate the way your chest tightens, almost as if you’re disappointed.

You catch up to Shinhye and follow her to the dining hall to grab some brunch. Class was scheduled until noon but he dismissed early, stating that the four hour classes were only really necessary during the workshop half of the semester and you’ll likely be free to go around eleven until then.

You don’t exactly feel hungry, though, your stomach too full of nerves to desire any food. So you sit at the table with only a coffee, per Shinhye’s recommendation. You probably do need it, honestly.

“How old do you think Professor Yang is? He looks awfully young to be teaching at a university.” Shinhye tears into her omelette.

Well, he’s friends with Hwitaek, who you believe to be in his mid-twenties, so maybe he’s around there too? But you can’t bring any of that up without divulging exactly what had occurred between the two of you. “He does look pretty young.”

“He said he studied and worked as a luthier for the last ten years… I feel like he has to be in his late twenties at least, but he certainly doesn’t look it. Or maybe he just started his apprenticeship pretty young. I wonder if there’s an age requirement for that sort of thing?”

“A luthier?” You question, not familiar with the term.

Shinhye cocks her head. “Yeah, ______. A luthier. Professor Yang talked all about it. You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I guess not.” You chew your bottom lip. Your head really was somewhere else all morning.

Thankfully Shinhye fills you in without dragging you too much. “A luthier is someone who makes string instruments. Professor Yang explained all about how he did this luthier apprenticeship and how he specializes in making guitars when he’s not teaching.”

“That’s actually really cool,” you murmur. You imagine what he must look like playing guitar, or working with tools in the workshop, and you can’t help but feel impressed just picturing about it. A thought occurs to you, and you accidentally verbalize, “Oh that makes so much sense!”

“What does?”

You clamp your mouth shut. You can’t tell Shinhye that you understand now why his hands felt so rough when they slid under your dress, how you know exactly where each callous resides on his fingers. Somehow you manage to rescue yourself with, “It makes sense that he’s teaching something like this, you know, because obviously someone who has so much experience should be the one to teach the class. It’s just obvious. So like, it makes sense.”

Shinhye shakes her head slowly. “I just don’t get you.”

Maybe you’ll tell her one day. But it just seems unnecessary, especially because it’s bad news that you’ve ever been involved with a professor. The fewer people that know, the better.

After camping out in the restroom of the hotel for an appropriate amount of time, you finally gathered your wits about you and headed out into the wild once more. You had reasoned with yourself, finally coming to the conclusion that you were a grown(ish) woman who did not need to hide from boys. Instead, you would handle yourself like a true grown(ish) woman and boost your morale with a little (albeit illegal) liquid courage.

You headed straight for the bar, posting up there and chugging a glass of wine before immediately ordering another. Ah, to be a lady.

As you accepted your second glass, a voice next to you asked for a bourbon. You were thankful you did not have any wine in your mouth as you looked up to find none other than the most beautiful man in the world standing next to you - you definitely would have spit it out all over him. He smiled warmly at you, and if it didn’t feel like your knees were about to give out, you definitely would have sprinted back to the restroom, grown(ish) woman morale be damned.

He must have sensed your self-consciousness because he said with a laugh, “Please don’t run away from me again. I promise I don’t bite.”

You immediately squashed the thought of oh I wish you would, refusing to let that little gem slip past your lips. Instead you just took a long drink, completely unsure of what to say.

He wasn’t dissuaded by your silence, though, and you weren’t positive if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Leaning against the counter, he turned his body to face you, calm confidence pouring out from him in waves. “Your cousin said you wanted to dance with me, but that you might need some convincing. I’m not so persistent that I won’t take no for an answer, so if you say no I’ll leave you alone. But I thought I should at least try for a yes.”

The way his lips formed his words absolutely hypnotized you. How could a person be so stunning?

“I thought if nothing else, I might be able to at least have a conversation with you. I didn’t expect it to be quite so challenging, though. Usually it’s easy to get girls to talk to me.”

You snapped out of your dazed state with a laugh, your jaw dropping at his bold assertion. “That’s incredibly cocky of you to say, don’t you think?”

He shrugged casually. “It got you to talk, didn’t it?”

You took another sip, eyebrow raised. Touché.

“So what’s it going to take to get you to dance with me?” He smiled that beautiful, breathtaking smile of his, and it intoxicated you. Or maybe it was just the wine finally kicking in. Either way, you were hopeless. Looking away from you briefly, he accepted the short glass of amber liquid the bartender handed him, and you admired the strong line of his jaw and neck as he nodded his thanks.

Holding tightly onto your glass, you ripped your gaze from him before he could turn back to you and mulled over his inquiry. If you drank any more wine, it would probably be fairly easy for him to get you to dance, but you knew better than to spill those beans. So you respond to his question with a much safer answer: “Maybe a different DJ.”

He laughed warmly, and the sound of it turned your world upside down. “Yeah, he’s not great. Any wedding DJ that’s got ‘Y.M.C.A.’ on their playlist should not be a wedding DJ.”

You lifted your glass in agreement, intrigued. “I’ll drink to that. If you’re going to play something from the seventies, at least make it good. Give me some Marvin Gaye, or Donna Summer. Maybe a little Rufus with Chaka Khan for extra brownie points.”

His eyes tracked over your face as he clinked his glass against yours. “Some Earth, Wind and Fire, perhaps?”

Sucking air through your teeth, you squinted disapprovingly. “They can get a little campy.”

“Excuse you, ‘Boogie Wonderland’ is a classic.”

“About as classic as ‘Y.M.C.A.’” You snarked back at him, surprised by how at ease you were beginning to feel. The wine had definitely kicked in. Your brain felt warm and fuzzy, your limbs pleasantly tingly. “You know what’s cool?”

“Hm?” The glass in his hand met his lips and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered a touch of jealousy. Over a damn glass. What the literal shit.

You shook your head as quickly and minutely as possible to clear your thoughts and get back on track with what you wanted to say. “Um… Ah, wedding bands. Why don’t people hire bands anymore? Get some live music going. That’s awesome. That’s what’s good.”

“You’re really passionate about music, aren’t you?” Soft endearment coated his voice like honey, his sweet eyes scanning your face and making your heart flutter.

You nodded, shyness creeping up on you once again. He was miles out of your league, and it was honestly unreal that he’d even give you the time of day. Yet there he was, talking to you like you actually had a chance. Well… maybe you actually did.

An effortlessly sexy grin tugged at his lips. “So I know there’s not a wedding band tonight, and we’ve already established that this DJ kind of sucks… but is there any chance I could get you to dance with me despite all of that?”

And there it was - your chance. He could have very easily dropped the idea of dancing altogether after chatting with you and forming a more educated opinion of you. But the conversation must have gone okay because he still wanted to dance. And there he was, smiling all pretty and waiting for a response and you knew that you didn’t exactly have a choice when he looked at you that way.

“Let me finish this first.” Your voice sounded a lot more steady and confident than you expected, which left you pleasantly surprised with yourself.

“That’s fair.” He nodded and took a sip of his drink, finally looking away and giving you a chance to breathe. Changing the subject, he asked, “You here for the bride or groom? My guess is bride, since I haven’t seen you before.”

“Bride. She’s my cousin. And I’m guessing you’re with the groom, for obvious reasons.” You gestured to his tux, the symbol of his relationship to the groom.

“Perceptive,” he teased. “Yeah, he’s a long time friend of mine.”

With a big gulp of wine, you nodded. Almost done. You were really doing this. “They seem like a good pair. I hadn’t met Hwitaek until today - maybe thirty minutes ago, actually. But he seems like a good guy and she’s definitely happy.”

“Ah, right, I think I saw you meeting him.”

You froze up, remembering the awkward staring contest that followed your introduction to Hwitaek. With an uncomfortable chuckle, you spit out, “Right, I think you did.”

Now there was something more mischievous in his grin, and you knew he brought that up on purpose to see how you’d react. Pleased, he took another drink, and you were bewitched by the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I see them together a lot, and they’re a perfect match. Hwitaek is very good to Jiyoo, don’t worry. And she’s great, she fits right in with the whole lot of us.”

“That’s good to hear.” You were relieved that he didn’t linger on the subject - your life wasn’t over yet. So you smiled, finally on your last sip. You throw it back, and the warm buzz at the corners of your mind gave you the confidence you needed to place your empty glass on the bar counter and face him. “What’s your name?”

“Hongseok. Yours?” He smirked, effectively chipping away at your newfound courage, and finished off his own drink.

“_____.”

“_____,” he repeated your name, testing it out on his tongue, and it sounded absolutely wonderful. You needed to hear it once more, and you made it your personal goal to make him say it again before the end of the night. He held out his arm for you to take, stirring up the tipsy butterflies in your stomach. “Shall we?”

With a shaky inhale, you hooked your hand in the crook of his elbow, noting the way his bicep bulged. You were signing your life away for the night and you had absolutely no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Hongseok.

Professor Hongseok Yang.

You throw yourself back onto your bed, tossing your Physics of Musical Instruments syllabus to the floor. It’s been two days and you still haven’t come to terms with the pickle you’re in. The secret is eating you alive from the inside out, and you’re dying to talk about it.

Briefly, you even consider emailing Hong- no, Professor Yang, but you know you can’t just send incriminating emails over the school’s server. That would be about as bad of an idea as sleeping with your professor in the first place.

You’re trying not to chastise yourself too much about it. At the time, you had no idea he taught at your university. If you had, you definitely would have refused to visit his hotel room. You wouldn’t have even danced with him. You know how to behave responsibly, but you let yourself live a bit more freely that night and now you’re paying the price.

Maybe you needed to tell Shinhye after all. You just needed someone to know what you were dealing with, because it felt too burdensome for you to hold on your own. If just one person could know and understand-

Minseo.

Jumping to your feet, you scramble out to the living room and tear up your desk in search of your cell phone. When you finally found the device, you immediately video call your beloved cousin.

She answers after a few rings. “What’s up, boo?”

You almost start crying, already feeling relieved just by having her on the line. “Minseoooo! Are you alone right now?”

“Yeah, I’m at my apartment. You okay?” She frowns, peering closely at her screen.

You push your hair back with a sigh. How do you say this? “I’ve made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.”

“What is it?”

“Remember the groomsman from Jiyoo’s wedding?”

As soon as you mention him, her eyes grow wide. She covers her mouth, but not enough to muffle her words. “Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“What? No!” You shake your head emphatically. “No, I swear I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh thank God, because that would be just the worst.”

She’s right, though; that would be the actual worst case scenario. Your current situation might be bad, but at least there’s no fetus involved. With that bit of perspective, you proceed a bit more calmly. “So… it turns out that the groomsman teaches at my university. And I’m taking his class.”

Minseo stares at her phone for a moment, and then suddenly bursts into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me. For real?”

“For real.”

More laughter. “What are the odds of that? Jesus. You finally get laid for the first time since high school and it’s with your fucking teacher…”

Her lighthearted response actually makes you feel better, and you let yourself laugh about it too. “It’s crazy, right?”

“Insane!” Her black cat poked her head into the frame, and Minseo scratched her between her ears. “So wait, what happened? How did class go? Has he said anything about it?”

“He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. He basically ignored me all through class. And I think it’s a good thing? But also I kind of want to just talk about it? Because I feel like it’s going to be incredibly awkward if we have to go through the whole semester without even addressing it.”

“You should say something to him, then. Just tell him that you’re not going to say anything about what happened, and tell him that you want him to treat you normally. I mean, that’s what you want, right?”

You nod. “Right. I should probably do that, as uncomfortable as it may be.”

Minseo tilts her head, looking at you endearingly. “You can handle it. You’re a strong little lady. You just have to believe it.”

Finally, a relieved exhale leaves you. “Minseo, I feel so much better now that you know. I haven’t told anyone here about what happened and it was killing me.”

“I’m glad I could help. You should probably keep it a secret at school, though. Word can really spread fast across a campus.” Her cat meows quietly in agreement.

“Good plan. This stays between you and me.” You hold up your little finger as if to make a pinky promise, and she follows suit.

“Our little secret.”

The first days of the rest of your classes all pale in comparison to that eventful Tuesday morning. Physics of Musical Instruments is your only class in the science building, so thankfully you don’t have to worry about accidentally passing him every other day of the week. That should also be your most difficult class this semester, with a required writing class and second levels of aural skills and music theory making up the rest of your schedule. Add in your weekly piano lessons and R&B Ensemble practices, and you’ve got a lot on your hands. But you’re generally looking forward to your sophomore year, regardless of the whole mess with Professor Yang.

And it really doesn’t need to be a mess, anyway. You’ll have your chat with him, you can both move on, and it’ll all be moot in the end. At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you head into the weekend, knowing full well you’ll have to face him again in a matter of days and it won’t be easy.

Saturday afternoon is the music department’s convocation for the start of the semester. You take a seat in the auditorium of the music building, the ensemble on stage providing the entertainment as students file in. It’s the pride of the otherwise average music department, the upperclassman Jazz Ensemble, which you hope you’ll be accepted into next school year. If you do well with your own ensemble this year, you could definitely stand a chance. Besides, the current keyboardist will be graduating at the end of the school year, so there will definitely be an open spot waiting for you.

A familiar looking boy approaches you, all cheekbones and bright eyes. “Hi, can I sit there?” He gestures to the seat next to you, and you nod, standing to let him squeeze past you. When you’re both seated, he says, “I think I saw you in theory and aural skills, right?”

That’s why he looks so familiar! “Oh, yes! I remember you. Hi.” You greet him warmly, glad to have a fellow classmate to keep you company.

“I’m Kino.” He extends his hand to you. “Sophomore, studying voice and dance.”

“______, piano.” You shake his hand, and he smiles sweetly. “Also a sophomore.”

“Nice to meet you, officially.” Kino drops his backpack onto the floor between his legs and looks up at the stage. “Wow, Jazz Ensemble never disappoints.”

“You’ve got that right. You should have heard the Thelonious Monk tune they played before this one. They killed it.”

“I can believe that.” He looks over at you. Does he ever stop smiling? “Are you in any ensembles this semester?”

“Yeah, R&B.”

“No way! Me, too!” He laughs, and the sound of it is warm and pure. “I hardly convinced them to let me join, though. Being a double major keeps me really busy, but I was desperate to get into an ensemble this year.”

You laugh too, enjoying the way he makes you feel at ease. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then.”

“Sounds like it.”

The auditorium doors close as the last of the students scramble into seats, and you clap as the ensemble finishes their last song, a Miles Davis classic. One day it’ll be you on that stage. One day you’ll get to really make your mark.

The meeting itself isn’t really anything special. It’s mostly just to welcome everyone to a new school year and explain the basic requirements of a music major. Each semester you must attend no less than five student performances, but that’s nothing intimidating to you. You love going to student performances, so you’ll likely have all five knocked out before you reach the second half of the semester.

Toward the end of the meeting, the head of the department announces that he would like to introduce the new staff for the year. Three new professors file out from the wing, and you bite down on your lip to prevent your jaw from dropping, shocked to see Professor Yang among them. Why is he here? He’s in the science department, not music.

He is the first to step up to the microphone to introduce his class, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hello everyone, I’m Professor Yang. Although I’m not technically a part of the music department, I have a feeling you may all find an interest in my course, Physics of Musical Instruments. It will help fulfill half of your required science credits while still allowing you to explore music. In my course you will not only learn the science of scales, tonality, and sound waves, but you will also be given the opportunity to build your own instrument. I’m very grateful to be able to share my knowledge of instruments and sound with you. My class for this semester filled up very quickly, so please keep an eye out for it when you’re preparing your schedules for next semester. Thank you, and I look forward to seeing you in class.”

He is so professional, and you’re taken aback by how different he is in a professional setting. At the wedding he was so carefree, although he certainly carried the same amount of confidence. Regardless, your pulse is getting out of control the longer you watch him, and you’re so thankful for the cloak of darkness in the auditorium.

Kino leans over toward you, whispering lowly, “That class sounds awesome!”

You just nod, fixated on Professor Yang. He’s dressed a bit more casually today, wearing a pair of snug fitting jeans with his partially unbuttoned button-down, a v-neck shirt peeking out from the space where the button-down separates at his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up, just like they were at the wedding. It would feel so good to rip off those clothes, to hear the buttons of his shirt break off and fall to the floor as you strip him. The thought sends searing heat through you, and you nonchalantly cross your legs. Yes, this semester is definitely going to be a tough one for you.

Kino takes off as soon as the assembly ends, blurting that he has to get to his dance department’s convocation. And as you eventually make your way out of the auditorium, you’re thankful that you’re on your own.

Professor Yang is in the lobby, chatting with another faculty member as students filter past. And for absolutely no reason at all, he happens to look in your direction just as you notice him. He looks at you long and hard with a completely unreadable expression, and you gaze back, trying to keep your face similarly neutral. Trying not to let him see how badly affected you are just to be in the same room as him. Trying to pretend that you don’t wish you could get him naked again, feel his body on yours again.

You may never know if you are successful in controlling your features. You pull your eyes from him long before you can pick up on any clues and bolt for the door, simultaneously relieved and saddened to know he will not follow you.

Hongseok led you to the dance floor and pulled you around to face him. The DJ was still doing a terrible job, but with his hand on your waist and alcohol buzzing through your veins, you managed to find it within you to dance. You swayed your hips, bopping to the beat, your hands eventually coming to rest on his broad shoulders.

His hands grew more and more adventurous in their placement with each song that passed. You didn’t mind one bit, enjoying the way he casually explored your back, thighs, and neck. Your own hands slid down over his muscled chest and abdomen, which you could clearly feel even through his layers of clothing. If only you could touch his skin…

You were completely taken by him, heart pounding pleasantly in your chest as warmth spread throughout your body. Why had you been so afraid before? Everything had turned out to be nothing short of wonderful. Even if it stopped at dancing and went no further (which was exactly what you expected to happen), you still could leave knowing you had a great time with an incredibly hot guy that you could fantasize about later to your heart’s content.

You still couldn’t believe that he would even give you the time of day, yet there he was, dancing far too close for your feeble heart to handle - not that you were complaining. His features were even more striking up close; you could easily memorize the straight line of his nose, the exact shape of his lips, the curve of his chin. You didn’t know what you had done in a previous life to deserve his attention, but you were endlessly thankful.

As elated as you were to be there with him, though, you couldn’t help but wonder how he really felt, what exactly he thought about you. After all, it’s not like he had just walked up to you of his own accord. Surely it was all your cousin’s doing and no true luck of your own. “Hongseok?”

“_____?”

You nearly shiver at the sound of your name. “Are you only dancing with me because my cousin asked you to?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind your questioning. “Yes and no.”

“Okay?”

The DJ played a slower song next, and Hongseok took the opportunity to pull you up against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and taking your hand in his. His fingers were rough and calloused, but gentle as they wrapped around your hand. “You didn’t really seem too eager to talk to me after you met Hwitaek, so I wasn’t going to bother you.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry from nerves. You had almost ruined this for yourself, and you had no idea.

He continued his explanation. “So technically yes, it was your cousin’s idea that convinced me to say something to you. But if I hadn’t wanted to dance with you, I would have told her no. I wouldn’t have even asked you if I wasn’t interested.”

Thoughts manifested into words before you could stop them, and you cursed your intoxicated tongue. “Interested… in me? Like, you think I’m cute, or something?”

“You could say that.” His laugh brought a smile to your face. “What about you? Do you think I’m cute, or something?”

You should have cut yourself off after the second glass of wine. You didn’t drink often, and you didn’t have much of a tolerance, as made evident by the shameless, bold compliment that spilled from your lips. “Cute? You’re beautiful and I am very attracted to you.”

You only caught a hint of his charming smile before he pulled you in even tighter and lowered his mouth until it brushed the cusp of your ear. Gravelly undertones lined the edges of his voice as he murmured, “I don’t want to cause a scene - this is a family affair, after all - so I’m going to have to let you do your own thing for the rest of the night. But I want you to know that I am incredibly attracted to you, and I need you to find your way upstairs to room 417 after we send off the happy couple. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded without hesitation, speechless at his incredibly forward instructions, your alcohol-dulled mind still able to piece together the implications of his invitation. Damn all of your fears and concerns; Hongseok was a dream and you’d never forgive yourself if you passed on the chance that had been afforded you. Come hell or high water, you would get to room 417. How could you say no? Surely your sober self would thank your tipsy self for it later.

“Great.” His low, sensual voice filled you, his breath tickling your ear as he straightened up and released you. With a wink, he disappeared into the throng of partygoers, and you nibbled at your bottom lip as you wobbled towards your table. You needed to collapse into your chair, unable to hold yourself up after the assault of his charms.

Before you could reach the table, though, you spotted Minseo, and steered yourself in her direction instead. You grabbed onto her arm, ripping her from the rest of your cousins.

“Please don’t kill me, I swear I was only trying to do you a favor.” She misinterpreted your excitement as aggression, flinching when you leaned in.

“No, I love you, you’re the best, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I think I’m gonna get laid tonight.” You giggled to yourself, feeling warm and airy. “He told me to go up to his room later.”

“There you go, girl!” She whacked your arm playfully, looking you up and down. “Go get it and then give me all the details tomorrow because honestly he’s gorgeous and I just have to know what’s going on under those clothes.”

“Ohmygod me tooooo…” you drawled. You were losing your mind just thinking about it. “Oh, um, hey, can you cover for me? I’m gonna tell my parents I’m spending the night at your place.”

She nodded, and then her face lit up. “Better idea! Let’s get our own room upstairs. Then you can come to our room after.”

You blinked owlishly. “Right.”

Minseo caught onto your hesitation. “Unless you plan on actually staying the night?”

“...No? Because… sleeping over… would that be weird?”

“Probably. I’m guessing he’ll just want to hook up and be done with it. So we should go see if there are any rooms available. Yeah?”

Minseo had a good point; it could get weird if you tried to overstay your welcome, so having another room to retreat to would be the best course of action. You came to the wedding with your parents, so you wouldn’t be able to get yourself home if you stayed at the hotel longer than everyone else. And you wouldn’t expect Minseo to leave her apartment and drive all the way back to pick you up after... You nodded and squeezed her hand. “Okay, that’s a good plan. Did I tell you you’re the best?”

“You might have mentioned it.” She started leading you by the hand towards the lobby. “Let’s go get that room and then head back to the bar before you chicken out.”

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Part 2 will be posted Friday at 8pm.

Update | Read Part 2 here!

THIS FIC IS REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY. All future content (including HFT Part 4 and onward) will only be posted on GWENTORYFICS. Thank you!

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