A/N: My first smut request and my first smut piece! I hope you like it, I did my best! It's the first smut I've written so I'm sorry if it isn't the best. I also used both his stage name and his real name, trying to keep stage name to stage and given name to elsewhere. I hope I didn't mess up anywhere and I hope that's ok! It just sounds weird to me to call a member by their stage name at home for some reason 🤷🏼♀️
A/N 2: This freaking red sweater destroys me, on him in Give It To Me and on my ult St Van in So In Love so I had to do it an honour and make a piece after it.
~~~
You managed to finally watch a VAV stage live, much to the delight of your boyfriend, Choi Chunghyeop aka VAV's own Baron. And the stylists must've known you were in the crowd watching too, because when VAV came on stage and began performing you almost choked on air. Honestly, you completely forgot how to breathe.
While they were performing a new song from their recent comeback, you immediately recognized an old piece of clothing from an older song of theirs on Baron that immediately had you clenching your thighs together. You had never told your boyfriend what that red turtleneck sweater did to you in that Give It To Me performance video, or what you imagined him doing with those fingers in that sweater in that video. You also knew that the stylists were probably just using what they had available that fit the theme of the song. But none of this was relevant as your mind started wandering as you watched Baron dance perfectly and graciously in the sweater that was tight enough to highlight all the best parts of his body.
After all of the performances from the night finished, you headed backstage with the pass Chunghyeop gave you to meet up with him and the rest of the group. Once you found where VAV were you immediately kissed Chunghyeop before congratulating the group on an outstanding performance that the crowd absolutely loved. They all thanked you, leading to some small talk with you and eventually some of the nearby kpop groups. But nothing could keep your eyes off of your boyfriend in that sweater, or what you wanted to do to him, with him, with that shirt on.
After a while of chatting, you and Chunghyeop began making your way to the exit to head home. Chunghyeop noticed your eyes on him all night and it stirred something inside him, too. And as soon as you got to your car, his hands and lips were all over you.
"I saw the way you were looking at me all night," he says during a small makeout break to catch your breath.
"Yeah well, when you're on stage looking so hot how can I not?" you comment back, your cheeks flushed from the heated makeout session in your front seat.
"You're not usually this needy during concerts, it's something else." He notices your eyes traveling down to his body, the sweater still on because he forgot to change before leaving. He smirks. "Is it the sweater? Is that what's got you all worked up?"
You nod slightly, your eyes barely breaking from looking at his torso in the red fabric to look him in the eye. Chunghyeop laughs, giving you one more kiss before putting the key in the ignition and heading in the direction of home.
---
As soon as you get inside your apartment, your hands and lips are all over each other again, this time items of clothing slowly coming off and leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail to your bedroom.
Chunghyeop feverishly leaves kisses trailing down your neck and chest, his hand cupping your now bare breast before he pushes you on the bed. During the whole ordeal, he made sure to keep the sweater on, now knowing how much it affected you.
He begins slowly kissing down your body again, this time taking his time to suck on the parts of your neck that make you squirm before moving down to leave a wet trail of kisses along your chest. He takes your right nipple between his lips, sucking on it and lightly nipping it enough to make you moan lowly before leaving a gentle kiss on it, moving to the one to do the same thing. Chunghyeop then slowly leaves kisses all down your stomach, coming to your panty line. Chunghyeop begins kissing your inner thighs, nipping lightly at the skin randomly, teasing you.
He sees the growing wet spot in your panties, blushing slightly. "Wow you really do like me in this sweater, don't you? You're already /soaked for me,/ he says before going down and leaving kisses right on the wet spot. He nips at your hardening bud eliciting a higher pitched moan from you, and a deep chuckle from him.
Chunghyeop loops a finger under the elastic of your underwear and looks up at you for silent approval, which you eagerly give. "I should be going down on you for giving such a great performance, not the other way around," you manage to say as Chunghyeop slowly brings the underwear down and off your legs.
"We're still doing what I want. And what I want is to make you cum," he breathes onto your core, sending a shiver up your spine from the air fanning on the slickness already coating most of your core. Chunghyeop gives you a dirty wink before licking a long stripe along your core, causing your back to arch from the contact and the heat of his mouth on you.
"Fuck, oh my go-OH," you scream as he swirls his tongue around your nub, sparing no time on going to the most sensitive part of you. He flicks your nub with his tongue before wrapping his lips lips around it and sucking lightly, making you moan loudly at the intense pleasure coursing through your body.
Just as you adjust to the intense sensations coming from his current actions, Chunghyeop trails his tongue down to your hole, teasing it for a second before plunging his tongue in as far as he can. Your hands immediately fly to his hair, gripping tightly as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you, making sure to tilt his tongue up and hit what he can reach of your g-spot every time he enters you. His nose starts brushing your clit, and before long you're moaning his name like a chant as you cum around his tongue, which he makes sure catches as much of your juices as it can.
Just as you're coming down from your high, Chunghyeop looks up at you with a devilish grin on his face. You look at him with a questioning look before his face returns to between your legs, his lips and tongue attacking your clit at a more aggressive pace than before.
You grab his hair again, pulling hard as he attacks your overly sensitive bud. You're adjusting to the sensitivity and the pleasure picking up again when Chunghyeop begins running two fingers along the outside of your hole, gathering juices before plunging both fingers as far inside you as he can go, causing you to see stars. You scream out his name along with a string of profanities, making him groan at just how hot you sound and just how hard he's getting in his boxers.
Chunghyeop begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, slowly at first but always curling his fingers upwards to brush along and hit your spot every time. You don't last long, and you're soon seeing white and moaning incoherent words as your cum for the second time that night and clenching hard around his fingers.
When you finally open your eyes and calm down from your intense orgasm, you see Chunghyeop kneeling beside you on the bed, sucking your juices off his fingers. You look down and see his member straining hard against his boxers. You reach out and palm him through his boxers causing him to close his eyes and groan at the sensation of your warm hand on his hard and sensitive member.
"Let me help with that," you say, getting on your knees to return the favour. "Also, ask them if you can keep the sweater."
a/n: i don’t go to the gym, so sorry if this isn’t accurate. also if you haven’t seen ace’s muscles,,,,,ur missing out
The gym had, surprisingly, become your happy place in college.
You had never really been into any kind of sporty activities prior to your higher education, but there was something cathartic about just going and running off all your pent up frustrations. You’d found pretty early on in your college career that running around campus just didn’t cut it; you couldn’t get in the zone enough, because all the things you wanted to get out of your head were right in front of you. That paper you couldn’t seem to think up a convincing thesis for? The class it was for was in that building just to your left. That annoying guy in your philosophy class? On his skateboard and not looking where he was going, which was right in front of you.
So, you found yourself at the gym.
It was never necessarily empty when you went, but it wasn’t overly crowded either. You usually got to use the same treadmill in the far corner for as long as you wanted, or whatever equipment you felt like trying out, and sometimes you saw a familiar face milling around. You’d become so accustomed to using the gym that by your second semester you had purposely blocked out time in your schedule just to go work out every day.
And second semester was when you met Ace.
You never really took note of the people around you in the gym. You tended to be pretty quiet, and you liked to get out of your head when you were working out, the volume up on your music and your eyes trained dead ahead outside the window. Most other people seemed to be the same, occasionally waving or saying hello, but not much more. You liked it that way.
Ace was different. He worked at the gym, usually at one of the desks, so it was his job to be welcoming and inviting. You hadn’t actually seen him working out until second semester, however —and you were a little shocked to find him just as enthusiastic in greeting you even while lifting weights. You were even more surprised at how you mirrored his enthusiasm as the semester progressed.
Two weeks into the new semester, you forgot your earbuds. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before in your time at college, but it made you dread your workout a bit, nonetheless; it was much harder to zone out when you could hear all the clanking and chatter around you.
Ironically, the frustration at yourself made you want to run it off even more, and so you felt you had no choice but to grin and bear it, just for the day.
The gym is emptier than usual when you arrive, which is a relief. You glance around and find Ace doing sit-ups — he pauses when he sees you, sitting up with his elbows on his knees, a big grin on his face.
“Hey, Y/N.”
“Hey,” you reply, walking towards the water fountain to refill your bottle. “How’s the workout going?” It shocks you, sometimes, that you’re comfortable enough to be playful with Ace despite barely knowing him. You imagine it must just be in his nature to be sociable.
“Better, now that my gym buddy’s here,” he responds cheekily. You snort and turn to find Ace leaning on the wall beside you, his black hair falling messily into his eyes, a far cry from his usually neat style.
“Your hair’s getting all in your face,” you chide, suddenly feeling a bit like your mother as you snap one of the elastics off your wrist and hand it to him. Ace chuckles as he accepts it, his dimples on full display.
“Thanks,” he says, “I’ll get it back to you tomorrow. I know I have some… somewhere.” You can’t help but laugh as he says this, and when he ties his bangs up into a tiny ponytail above his forehead. It’s cute; makes him look like a pineapple, or one of those dogs you sometimes see with fashionable women in movies. You suddenly feel flustered, so you shrug and start walking towards your treadmill.
“No worries, I have plenty of those,” you respond, mostly just to get out of the situation. Ace calls out another thank you before going back to his routine, and you do your best to outrun the thought of you finding Ace cute.
It doesn’t work.
Ace does return your elastic the next day. Or, he sort of does, just not as a full loop. You’ve never seen him more bashful than he is as he places the limp elastic string in your palm, all the while explaining that his friend was playing with it the night before and broke it on accident. It’s all so cute that you can’t help but laugh in the middle of his apology, which leaves Ace extremely confused.
“Like I said, I have plenty,” you tell him, shrugging it off. You shove the broken elastic into your pocket to throw away later before slipping another one off your wrist to give to him.
“Here. It’s no fun working out with your hair all in your face.” Ace takes the elastic from you gently, as if it’s some great gift, and when he looks back into your eyes and smiles you almost swear he’s glowing from the inside out. Suddenly, it’s your turn to feel bashful, and you wish you had your own hair down simply to hide your burning ears from his sharp gaze.
“Have a good workout,” you chirp, before dodging around him to head to the stationary bikes along the wall. If Ace finds the exchange awkward, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you hate that your heart skips a beat when you see that this time, he’s tied his hair up into a tiny little bun.
The next day, Ace regretfully informs you that he lost your hairband somewhere in his dorm last night. It’s not a big deal, you still have a huge pack of them in your room, and he looks so apologetic you can’t even imagine not forgiving him.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, and, without thinking, reach out to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He stiffens slightly (which gives you a preview of his biceps and holy shit) and you quickly draw your hand away to pull another elastic off your wrist.
“Anyways, here,” you say, more or less shoving it into his line of sight. “Try not to lose this one, yeah?” Unlike you, Ace rebounds quickly from any awkwardness he may have felt, flashing you a winning smile that causes butterflies to swarm in your stomach.
“I’ll do my best,” he says, giving you a mock salute that makes you chuckle. You offer him one in return with a smile you’re sure isn’t half as charming as his own before excusing yourself to your treadmill. You wish you could just run yourself right out the window when he winks at you through the mirrors on the wall.
“Why don’t you ever lift weights?” He asks as you’re leaving. It catches you off guard, since the two of you usually don’t talk at the end of a workout; Ace is usually still in the middle of his own routine or down the hall working his desk shift. Today, however, Ace falls into step beside you as you leave the gym. You shift your bag on your shoulder and try to think of a reply that doesn’t make you sound like a total wimp.
“I guess I’m just scared of, like, hurting myself? I’m pretty clumsy.” Ace laughs at that, holding the door open for you.
“You just need to know your limits,” he says, and you shrug, wondering if he’ll just drop the subject; after all, the point at which the two of you should be branching off in different directions is coming up. Instead of just bidding you goodbye, Ace comes to a halt where he should be taking a turn, and turns to you.
“How about I spot you tomorrow? Think of it as payback for the hair-ties.” He says, and you want to tell him it’s really no big deal — and yet, you’re kind of curious. And it might be nice, you think, to learn how to lift weights and tone your arms a little. You bite the inside of you cheek, only looking up from your shoes when you notice Ace’s shadow coming closer. His eyes are dark but soft, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
“I promise you won’t get hurt.” You press your lips together in a thin line before letting out a soft laugh,
“Okay, sure. Why not?” Ace beams.
“Great!” He says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Y/N!” With that, he turns around and goes down the corridor, disappearing around the corner. Once he’s out of sight, you slap your palm against your forehead, sighing. What is it about him that makes you so stupid? At this rate you’re going to drop a weight on your foot and won’t be able to go to the gym at all.
The next day Ace bounds up to you the second you walk through the gym doors, a huge grin lighting up his face. It makes you more than a little nervous, because you’re already pretty sure you’re gonna have sweaty palms and drop the weights, or end up staring at his arms or something. Maybe both.
“Hey! Ready for today?” He chirps, and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.
“As I’ll ever be.” Ace follows you as you go to fill your water bottle up, nudging you with his elbow gently.
“It’ll be fine. And if something does happen — which it won’t! — I’ll take full responsibility.” You simply roll your eyes as you twist the cap back onto your bottle.
“Whatever you say, Ace. Just lead the way, let’s get this over with.” Ace laughs and slings an arm across your shoulders, and you swear you can’t feel your knees as you’re walking. You watch as he begins setting things up got you, humming to himself, and wipe your palms against your thighs. Suddenly you realize he still has the elastic you gave him the day before around his wrist, and a smile breaks across your face.
“Hey, you didn’t lose it,” you say, nodding towards it. Ace glances at you through the mirror along the wall and laughs, but you can’t help but feel that it sounds forced. Before you can ask if everything is alright, he’s looked away again,
“Ah, yeah. Told you I’d keep it safe.” He stands up and turns to face you, a grin plastered to his face. “I figured we’d start with some stretches, then just go with the lowest weights in the room. Just in case.” You nod, feeling nervous all over again, but you nod and move to stand beside him.
You follow all his instructions as far as stretching goes, doing your best to mimic his posture and listening to his tips as far as weightlifting goes. Once stretching is done, he passes you a set of hand weights. Ace stands beside you, lifting his own (much larger) weights to demonstrate what you should be doing, and you do your best to mimic him; you can’t help but laugh when you glimpse yourself in the reflection. He looks back at you, confused, and you meet his gaze.
“I feel like an old woman following a workout DVD.” You’re glad when Ace laughs, because it disperses what little tension seemed to be lingering between the two of you.
“Well, I can assure you you don’t look like an old lady.” You roll your eyes, but you can feel a blush creeping along your cheeks and do your best to ignore it, focusing on the rhythm of lifting the weights. You just can’t tell if Ace is flirting with you on purpose or not, because part of it seems so natural for him it’s just hard to say.
You really do your best to just let yourself fall back into the routine, but you can’t help but get distracted by the sight of Ace’s biceps in your peripheral vision (did he have to wear a sleeveless shirt? Really?). At best, you just hope you aren’t being too obvious when it happens. In an effort to get yourself back on track, you spare a glance at the clock, only to realize it’s close to the time you have to leave; it’s group project season, after all, and you’re group-mates could only meet in the middle of your gym session, apparently. As much as you want to stay, you know you need to go now if you want to shower and eat dinner before meeting with them, and so you turn to Ace and clear your throat.
“I should get going soon, I have a meeting.” You think you might imagine the look of disappointment that flashes across his face, since it’s soon replaced by his usual carefree smile.
“Oh, sure. Let me show you where the weights go.”
To your surprise, Ace leaves the gym with you again, even though you’re pretty sure he wasn't even done with his own reps yet. The two of you reach the same branching off point as the day before, and he comes to a halt once again. You turn to face him, smiling,
“Thanks for teaching me to lift weights. I’ll be buff in no time.” Ace manages a little laugh, and you notice as he’s looking down at his feet that he tied his hair up at some point.
“No problem,” he says, eyes flitting up to meet yours for a moment. You clear your throat lightly and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow—” Before you can leave, however, Ace pulls at your wrist, holding you in place. You turn back around, your hand slipping into his, but he refuses to look in your eyes. You feel the sudden, overwhelming need to lighten the mood, so you force a smile on your face.
“Do you need another hairtie? You could rock some pigtails.”
“No,” he says, very quickly. You almost worry that you’ve offended him with how sharp his tone is, and you attempt to lean down and look in his eyes.
“Ace,” you start, and he stiffens a bit. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I… I just have something I need to tell you.” He looks up just long enough to see you nod, then takes a deep breath, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as if he’s trying to steel his nerves. You can’t help but get nervous at his behavior — you’ve literally never seen him look so upset.
“I didn’t actually lose your other hair-tie.” You furrow your brows, wondering why on earth something as simple as that would make him act so nervous.
“Okay?” You laugh, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze of your own just so he’ll look up at you again. “I’m not made or anything, it’s just a hair-tie.” Ace lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head,
“Ahh, I know, it’s not that, it’s… it’s just that I’ve had my own hair-ties this whole time, I just never used them.” You wonder how that’s supposed to clear any of this up, because you just feel more confused, but before you can ask Ace is hurriedly continuing his explanation.
“I only used yours because I wanted an excuse to talk to you. You’re always wearing your headphones, so that one day you didn’t I just decided to go for it. I know it was kind of stupid, but I feel bad about lying to you and taking your stuff just because I was being a chicken.” He’s too busy avoiding your gaze to notice the smile on your face, and maybe it’s for the best because you’re both flustered by and insanely endeared to him at that moment.
“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. Ace looks up at you, brows furrowed, and you can’t help the cheeky grin on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You almost feel bad about how genuinely startled he seems, and you can’t help but laugh when he suddenly starts stuttering about buying you more hair-ties to replace the ones he took. You let him babble on for a little bit, finding him extremely cute in that moment, but you soon decide you should put an end to his nerves.
“Ace,” you interrupt, and he startles like a deer in headlights. You squeeze his hand again and lean in closer, watching as he starts to turn red, “This is the part where you ask me on a date.” Ace lets out a laugh, a huge, heart-stopping smile on his face despite the blush on his cheeks.
“In that case, how does chicken sound? This Saturday?”
“That sounds perfect,” you reply, then slip your hand out of his only to hold it out in front of him. Even when he looks disappointed it’s attractive, you note, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.
“Give me your phone,” you explain, and he turns a little red again as he fishes it out of his pocket and navigates to the new contact screen before passing it off to you. You put your number in for him before passing it back.
“See you tomorrow?” You ask, playfully. When Ace meets your gaze there’s a twinkle in his eyes, a soft smile on his face. His hair is still up in the pineapple ponytail, and you feel your heart flutter.
“Yeah,” he replies, breathlessly. “See you tomorrow.”
With that, the two of you head your separate ways, but you aren’t even out of the building before you feel your phone buzz in your pocket with an incoming text. You bite down on your lip, unable to keep the smile off of your face.
You really do love the gym, and now you have an extra-cute reason to love it even more.
baron x reader (ft. st.van x reader!bff, fluff, non-idol!au, double date!au)
a/n: full disclosure i wrote this because my best friend and i saw some tag yourself based on your birth month thing on twitter about which vav member you’d go to a fair with and we’re both april babies and got ‘baron AND st.van’, so this happened. i don’t know where that tweet is now, sadly, but if anyone sees it lmk :)
Every year, the fair comes to town.
It’s not really anything special anymore, hasn’t been since you were a thirteen year old allowed to go with your friends unchaperoned for the first time. Now, you just see over-priced food and slightly unstable-looking rides.
For some reason, none of this stops you from agreeing to a double date at the fair on its final Friday open. You’d like to say it has something to do with nostalgia, or a simple love of cotton candy, but, really, you think Baron’s just a little too charming (and you’re worried your friend might go into cardiac arrest if she has to go on rides alone with Geumhyuk the whole time).
And that’s how a Friday in late August finds you and your best friend answering the door to find Baron (whose hair looks as fluffy as cotton candy and makes you melt in a similar fashion to the sweet) and Geumhyuk (showing off his tattoos in a way you’re sure is more for your friend’s benefit than his own) smiling at you. If you hadn’t been nervous before, then you definitely are when Baron holds out his hand expectantly. Just what the hell have you gotten yourself into?
You don’t really know Baron that well, to be honest; the two of you just seem to be third- and fourth-wheeling on a cute date for the two people who are actually on a course to dating, if they ever stop being so nervous around each other. Despite this, Baron is extremely sweet to you, acting as if you were really a date he was trying to impress.
You’re starting to understand why literally everyone has a crush on him.
Geumhyuk is quick to buy everyone snacks, repeatedly asking you and your friend if you have everything you need. It flusters your friend, but it makes you laugh watching him attempt to baby the three of you. He implores you to call him ‘St. Van,’ since Baron does, and you attempt to even though it feels kind of weird. You can’t help but notice that Baron seems to be pouting the whole time the St. Van’s attention is turned to you (which isn’t all that long, really). You barely have time to dwell on it before he’s leading you towards a game booth to try and win you a prize.
It’s almost painful watching him play such an obviously rigged game, but you have to admit you’re impressed at how he manages to charm the booth’s elderly manager into giving him a prize anyways. He gently rest his palm on the small of your back and guides you to pick a prize, and you feel the tips of your ears heating up as he looks over your shoulder at the collection of small trinkets available.
You choose a small, fluffy cat keychain with angel wings, and Baron beams at you as you do. The manager winks conspiratorially at you as Baron gently leads you away from the booth towards the strong man game where Van and your friend are still waiting in line.
“I can’t believe you managed to convince that lady to give you a prize,” you laugh, and Baron shrugs, pulling off a piece of cotton candy and holding it towards you. When you hesitate, he simply nudges it closer to your lips until you finally open your mouth. The playful, satisfied smile on his face is so charming it makes you want to melt like the spun sugar on your tongue, and you have to remind yourself again that you barely know Baron and that this outing isn’t even about you and your love life.
“What can I say, I’m just that irresistible.” He pretends flip hair out of his eyes, and you press your lips together to keep from laughing too loudly.
“Whatever you say.” You direct your attention towards where St. Van is now at the front of the line, holding the hammer in his hands and carefully studying the game. St. Van has always been big and somewhat intimidating, but you can’t say you’ve ever been afraid of him — until you see him swing that hammer down and hear the bell ring.
Baron laughs at the slightly shell-shocked expression on your face, while you can’t seem to marry the big smile and slight blush on St. Van’s face as he tells your friend to pick out a giant prize with the one who could probably break you in half like a toothpick. You huff as you realize this means you can’t really threaten him with any sort of physical fight if he hurts your friend’s feelings. Seems you’ll have to resort to blackmail.
Baron immediately begins ribbing St. Van as your friend struggles to get a hold on the giant, round pink cat plush in her arms. You laugh and squish one of its ears down to look at her face,
“What are you gonna do if he wins you another prize?” You ask, and she immediately turns red.
“He already offered to carry this one for me.” You giggle as she appears to get even more flustered as she glances at him.
“Baron charmed the old lady at the game stall for this one,” you say, gently flicking the keychain you have hooked around your belt loop. She smiles down at it.
“Cute,” she coos. She looks back up at you, and the look in her eyes tells you she’s about to say something teasing before she’s interrupted by St. Van gently taking the plush from her arms and tucking it under one of his, that same big smile on his face.
“So, where to next?” You ask as the four of you walk away from the booth, and Baron is quick to grin at you.
“They have some rides over that way.”
“Are there teacup rides?” You ask, and St. Van furrows his brows.
“I think so.” You grin.
“Then we’re going there.”
You (with the help of St. Van and his somewhat outrageous biceps) turn the teacups at the fastest speed possible. A few times you knock into Baron’s shoulder, but you’re both too busy laughing to care, all squished into the teacup together. Sometimes you catch St. Van looking over at your best friend, who’s squeezing the plush to her chest as if that will keep her stable, in a way that makes your heart melt. Maybe you won’t have to resort to blackmail, even.
As you all step off the ride, bumping into each other, your group makes the executive decision to go on the carousel and then hop in line for the ferris wheel so you can get on once the sun has started setting. With night falling, the fairground has become more packed, and Baron takes a gentle hold of your hand.
“So I don’t lose you,” he says, winking over his shoulder as he pulls you along. The two of you fall behind the actual couple, content to let them chat amongst themselves. You find yourself unable to keep the fond smile off your face.
“They make a good pair,” you muse, and Baron hums in agreement from beside you. Baron gently swings your link hands back and forth as you walk along, and you’d nearly forgotten about it until your friend and St. Van turn back to both of you to suggest a pit stop before heading to the Ferris wheel. Your friend’s eyes immediately lock onto Baron’s hand holding yours, raising an eyebrow, and if it weren’t rude you would’ve snatched your hand away. She flashes you one last knowing grin before turning her attention back to her date, leaving you flustered and clammed up for the rest of the walk to the bathrooms.
You and St. Van are left outside, sitting at a picnic table nearby. There’s a good view of the Ferris wheel where you are, and it gets you thinking a bit — it’s pretty romantic for an almost-couple and two strangers to go on on a double date.
St. Van is looking down at his phone when you glance over,
“Hey.” He looks up. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” He asks, and you quickly nod, though you find it endearing that he seems so concerned over someone he barely knows. Baron hadn’t been kidding when he had jokingly called him a dad on the way here.
“I’m fine, I was just wondering... why did you decide to make this a double date?” His brows furrow, and you look down at the little cat keychain against your thigh and start playing with it, suddenly embarrassed by your own sudden outburst. “I mean, it must be awkward for you, since Baron and I are just hanging around. He and I barely know each other and—”
“It wasn’t my idea.” You whip your head back to look at him, and he looks genuinely confused.
“What?”
“Baron wanted this to be a double date. I was going to ask Y/F/N on a date anyways.” His cheeks turn a little pink as he says it, and before you can question him more he suddenly stands up with a grin on his face, signaling your friend’s arrival at the table. Following shortly behind is Baron, who immediately shoots you a winning smile.
“To the Ferris wheel?” Van asks, and you all agree. You stand up from the picnic table and find Baron is holding his hand out to you. St. Van’s words ring through your head again, and you feel your heart skip a beat before you ultimately decide to take it.
The two of you lapse into silence, but it isn’t as comfortable as before and only because you can’t stop thinking — or, well, overthinking. Why would Baron ask St. Van to go on a double date? Did he ask for you specifically, or leave it up to Y/F/N? They’re all questions you want to ask, but aren’t confident enough to ask outright as you all approach the Ferris wheel.
Surprisingly, the line isn’t very long, nor is the area surrounding the wheel as crowded as you’d expected it to be. Even despite that, Baron keeps your hand in his, occasionally tracing little patterns with his thumb on the back of your hand.
“Do you like Ferris wheels?” You ask, and then curse yourself for being so abrupt. Baron doesn’t seem to mind though, because he’s still grinning that beautiful grin when you turn to him, and nods.
“I haven’t been on one in a while. I think it should be fun.” You turn to look back at the wheel and laugh a little,
“I’ve never been on one before. I’m a little nervous.” Baron squeezes your hand, gently, and steps closer to you. When you look back at him, his face feels much, much closer, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes you can’t quite pin down the meaning of.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says, and his smile is so gentle it makes your knees weak. “I’ll be right beside you. You’ll be fine.” You feel your heart do a little flip again, getting a bit too lost in his eyes—
Out of the corner of your eye you see the line moving forward, and you take a step towards the Ferris wheel, hastily mumbling as much to Baron and looking down to hide the blush on your cheeks. After a few moments of silence, Baron starts tracing patterns on your hand again, and you start to count your breaths to try and calm your heart rate.
The Ferris wheel controller splits the double date up, stating that it’s only two people per cart. As you watch your friend and St. Van getting lifted up so you and Baron can enter your cart, you can’t help but smile at the way both of them seem to be glowing just from being near each other. You know your friend isn’t a huge fan of Ferris wheels, but you have a feeling she’s going to be alright this time.
And then you wonder, once again, just why you’re also here.
Baron let’s you go in first and pick your bench, and you choose the one with your back to your friend so you won’t be tempted to pull faces or try to snoop. However, the lack of distraction just makes you more nervous for the whole situation, and you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to make yourself smaller and safer.
“Nervous?” Baron asks, leaning towards you. You nod, and he reaches out to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.
“It’s gonna be fun,” he says. “You’ll see.” You feel inclined to trust him with that angelic smile, but it doesn’t quite still the hammering in your heart when he also squeezes your hand before leaning back into his own seat.
You know Baron isn’t a stranger to skinship — you’ve seen him hug St. Van and his other friends on the few occasions you’ve been around them — but you can’t seem to reconcile what he’s doing with anything other than flirting. Despite that, you can’t figure out why Baron, a pretty well-known heart throb, would be flirting with you.
The Ferris wheel starts its ascent, and as the cart sways slightly you feel yourself tense up. Baron looks at you with furrowed brows.
“Are you okay?” You nod, but you don’t think it’s very convincing. Gentle as ever, Baron lets out a little laugh and leans forward.
“Why don’t we talk about something to get your mind off of it? What if we ask each other questions?” You find yourself nodding again before you can really think about it; to your benefit, Baron starts.
“Favorite color?”
“Yellow.” The wind picks up a bit, and you curl further into yourself. “Do you have like... a hidden talent?”
“I like to sing,” he says, and you smile.
“I’m sure you sound great.” Like an angel, you think, but don’t dare say it because of how cliche it is.
“Thanks.” He starts to say something else, but a gust of wind causes the cart to rock and you let out an embarrassing noise of shock. Baron reaches out for your hand,
“Hey, look at me, it’s okay. You’re okay.” His hand is warm and reassuring, and his gaze is kind, and you aren’t sure if it’s the adrenaline or not that causes you to suddenly blurt out the question that’s been on your mind since your talk with St. Van:
“Was the double date your idea?” He looks startled, but not necessarily in a bad way, and lets out a laugh,
“I thought it was my turn to ask a question.” The joke falls flat for you, unfortunately, considering how nervous you are, and Baron quickly sobers himself up, readjusting his grip on your hand. You don’t think you’ve seen him look so serious the whole night as he does now, gazing at you with earnest eyes. You can see some of the lights from below reflected in them. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.
“Yeah, it was,” he says. “I really wanted to get to know you, but I want sure how. So I had St. Van turn his date into a double date.”
“Why?” You blurt.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, everyone likes you— you could probably go on a date with anyone, so why me?” Not only does your statement seem to surprise him, but it also seems to suddenly make him bashful, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink that you can barely make out in the dusk. He clears his throat and begins to nervously play with your fingers; surprisingly, you don’t mind.
“When St. Van first told us about Y/F/N, you were with her, and I’d seen you around campus before and always thought you were really cute, I just wasn’t sure how to get to know you. So when Van said he was planning to take Y/F/N out this weekend, I asked if he wouldn’t mind setting us up.”
You have a feeling Y/F/N is going to laugh when she hears about this little scheme; you put the thought on hold, however, because Baron is looking at you with a measure of intensity and resolve that feels unfamiliar to you.
“I like you, Y/N. I want to try taking you out for real, not just third- and fourth-wheeling together.” You crack a smile, and Baron seems to let go of tension you hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding.
“I’d like that,” you say, and you one hundred percent mean it. He beams at you, his smile outshining all the lights below and the moon above, as the Ferris wheel slowly begins to lower you to the ground.
Your friend gives you a very meaningful look once the boys have dropped you back off at her house, though it’s hard to take her seriously when she’s holding the massive pink plush cat in her arms and struggled to get through the doorway with it.
“What?” You eventually ask, pointedly, and she grins.
“You and Baron were holding hands the whole night,” she says, “and I saw you give him your number.” As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and her grin only stretches wider as she makes her way towards you.
“And I saw you drooling over St. Van’s tattoos, don’t even start.” You try to keep your demeanor cool, but you find yourself blushing anyways as you move into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. Your friend follows, awkwardly maneuvering herself and the large plush through the door just to continue grinning knowingly at you. You flick water in her face from the sink.
“Shut up,” you mutter sullenly, taking a sip of your water and looking towards the ground.
“I didn’t say anything.” You refuse to look up until she starts to move away, laughing. “You should probably answer that text.” She shoots you a wink as she leaves and you do your best to keep scowling at her until she’s disappeared from view.
You do, in fact, check your phone right after that (not because she told you to), and can’t keep the smile off of your face when you read your newest message from Baron:
prompt: “i thought the cookies were for the whole dorm but it turns out you needed them for class so now i’m helping you make more”
You are going to kill someone.
You really, really are — you’re certain of it, because who ever ate your cooking final is going to have to pay the price. That is, if you can manage to stop staring at the empty cooling rack long enough to actually find said person — then they’re really in for it.
Thankfully, the answer comes to you in the form of a group of boys laughing their way into the kitchen. You turn on them immediately, fixing your gaze on the one in the front. It’s clear to you that this is the guilty party, because you can see the loud one in the back holding half of one of your damned perfect cookies—
You almost cry, but the anger welling up in you is red-hot and overpowering, and you find yourself glaring at the man in front again.
“Did you do this?” You hiss, indicating the two empty cooling racks. The group falls silent, the one nearest to you now wearing a look of shock, which would be cute in any other circumstances, you think, except you’re caught between screaming and crying and you kind of just want to beat them all up—
“What?” He asks, obviously confused and concerned by the distressed, somewhat manic girl in front of him.
“Did you eat my final project?!” You snap, but your voice breaks at the end of the sentence, and your breath enters your lungs shakily, “My final cooking project, which was two-dozen cookies to share with my whole fucking class tomorrow, that I spent hours on because they were such a hard recipe— did you eat those?”
The group of boys exchange looks, their gazes eventually landing on the one you’ve been addressing the whole time. Your hands are trembling, and you clench the sleeves of your sweater in your fists to hide it, closing your eyes for a moment.
“I’m sorry.” You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, willing the tears to go back to wherever they came from. You don’t really want to cry in front of a group of attractive boys that live in your hall, especially when you’re supposed to be scaring them off.
“Is your final tomorrow?” You open your eyes to find that the man with the rounded cheeks has stepped closer to you, eyes narrowed in sympathy. If you open your mouth, you’re sure you’ll cry, so you simply nod and sniff slightly.
“What time?” He asks.
“It’s at ten,” you croak, and you choke down a sob, turning your gaze downward. You were just coming downstairs to box them up and then go to sleep in your room so you could actually get some rest, but the universe, it seems, has other plans for you.
“I can work with that.” Your head snaps back up to find the man smiling at you, eyes curving up to match.
“What?”
“I’m a pretty good cook,” he says, pushing the sleeves of his own sweater up past his elbows. “I took a cooking class last semester, too— and you can definitely pass with that recipe.”
“But— you don’t—” His friends all look equally as shocked as you to see him moving to preheat the oven, but he merely smiles his friendly smile at you once more, calmly explaining,
“We ruined your final, so I’m going to help you fix it. I promise.” You sink your teeth into your lower lip, but you find yourself nodding. After all, what else can you do?
The man takes over the dry ingredients while you tackle the wet, standing on your own in the corner and attempting to whisk your eggs as perfectly as you had last time. He’s surprising good and seems determined to do everything perfectly, despite not even knowing your name, and you almost feel guilty for snapping at him. Almost, because it was definitely still his fault.
It isn’t until you’ve settled the cookie dough onto the tray that he speaks,
“I’m Geumhyuk.” You glance up at him, pretending to be engrossed with measuring out the ingredients for your icing. “My friends call me St.Van.”
“Y/N,” you reply, still not looking at him. You don’t care if you come across as cold; you’re tired and stressed out, and you’re supposed to be mad at him and his friends. You shouldn’t care what his name is or what his friends call him, and yet you can’t help but to think the nickname suits him.
“I’m sorry about your project,” he says, then, and you actually do look up at him. He looks entirely sincere, though it may be helped by the gentle features of his face, you think. “We thought they were for the whole hall. I forgot the cooking final was take-home this semester.”
Then, suddenly, he smiles at you, and there’s something playful in his gaze when it meets yours,
“You did a great job, though. You’ll pass.” At that, you can’t help but grin, feeling the knot of anxiety that had settled in your chest soften just slightly.
“Thanks,” you reply. You’re starting to feel better about all of this.
Halfway through the baking process, you realize St.Van has started humming. You can hear it when you pause your icing mixer, and you furrow your brows. The tune is familiar to you, but you can’t place from where, until—
“Oh my god,” you say, and St. Van abruptly stops, moving towards you.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re that Geumhyuk.”
“Uh—?”
“My roommate is in choir,” you clarify, shaking your head. “Sorry, it’s just— you were humming one of the songs for your next concert, and my roommate has been practicing that forever.” St.Van laughs, and it’s a nice sound, you think, extremely good-natured and contagious.
“I didn’t think you’d hear me over the mixer.” You shrug and pick said mixer up again, looking back at the bowl.
“It was nice,” you say. The mixer whirs to life before you can say anything more incriminating than that.
After a few moments, St.Van starts to hum again, louder. You can’t help but smile.
Once the frosting is mixed and in the fridge, the cookies still baking, St.Van drags two chairs from the lounge into the tiny kitchen for you to sit on. They aren’t much by way of comfort, but you think you could fall asleep standing at this point.
Which might be why the next thing you remember is someone shaking your shoulder and gently calling your name, opening your eyes to find St.Van’s bright eyes very, very close to your own. If he’s off-put by your shock, he doesn’t show it, merely grinning at you,
“The cookies are cool enough to ice, and I already put the frosting in a bag for you.” For a moment, you do nothing but stare at him, both in gratitude and shock, before you come to your senses and notice he’s still looking at you.
“You’re an angel,” you tell him, and you aren’t sure you’ve ever meant it more. The bashful smile that lights up his face and rounds out his cheeks only confirms this fact. It’s a Herculean effort to keep yourself from staring, but you force yourself up out of your chair, thanking him again, to ice your cookies. They look a little nicer, actually, than your first batch, and St.Van even helps you pack them up (“So nobody takes them this time,” he jokes, and when you actually laugh he starts beaming).
“Let me know how it goes,” he says, good-naturedly, as you shuffle off into the elevator and he takes the chairs back to the lounge.
“Thank you so much, again,” you reply, and he shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Two days later, you find yourself at your roommate’s final concert for choir, seated in the second row beside her aunt and uncle that live nearby. You fidget nervously in your seat, tugging at the skirt of your dress. Your roommate hadn’t been able to tell you much about Geumhyuk, after all, except that he has a solo near the end of the concert, and she had somehow managed to convince you to tell him about the ‘A’ you received on your cooking final. In retrospect, it had seemed like a great idea; you would just flounce right up to him and congratulate him on a job well done, thanking him profusely for his help before.
However, when you see his name printed on the program, and you’re sat back down after intermission, it’s hard to think that any of this was a good idea. Your roommate has already performed, and St.Van is performing soon. You try to get a grip on your emotions, but it just translates into you nearly destroying the piece of paper in your lap, twisting it beneath your fingers.
St.Van walks out onto the stage, and he smiles into the audience, wearing a simple tuxedo and somehow seeming to emanate light. You’d thought he was cute in the shitty, yellow lighting in your dorm’s kitchen, but now he looks absolutely stunning, and you’re not sure how you’re possibly going to approach him.
It only gets worse when he starts to sing.
You had called him an angel for helping you with your final, and, wow, had you ever been right. His eyes shine as he looks out into the audience, singing his heart out and yet making it look as simple as breathing. Even though you can’t be sure, you think his eyes land on your for a moment, his smile widening, and you feel as though you’re melting into a puddle right in your seat.
By this point, you’ve decided you’re just going to stand by your roommate after the show and ignore everyone else until you get to leave.
Of course, this is easier said than done. Your roommate keeps giving you looks, mouthing questions at you like, “Why the hell are you still here?” You pretend not to understand her, and eventually you decide just to stop looking at her and hover off to her side, prepared to wait out the rest of the event in seclusion. You scroll through your phone idly, and of course everything goes to hell when you let your guard down.
“Hey.” You want to die, but instead you end up jumping a bit before looking up at St.Van.
“Hi,” you say, too fast, but now you’re nervous and you can’t stop because he looks really, really good with his hair swept up like that, “You did amazing, by the way. I didn’t know you could sing like that.”
“Thanks. I didn’t expect to see you here.” It’s hard to focus when he’s smiling at you from this close range, so you hurriedly gesture to your roommate, laughing awkwardly,
“I had to come see her perform.” He looks at you, almost expectantly, and you cave much more easily than you had expected yourself to, biting the inside of your cheek and glancing down at your hands. “I wanted to thank you, too. I aced my cooking final.”
You only look up when you hear St.Van’s laugh, and he nudges your elbow with his own,
“I told you so.” You playfully push him away, mostly for the sake of your own heart, and look up to find his sparkling eyes trained on you.
“What do you think about going out to celebrate? My treat.” You swallow thickly, your heart shooting straight into your throat and making it hard to breathe.
“Me?” You ask, dumbly, and he chuckles and reaches out for your hand, taking it gently in his own, almost cautiously.
“Only if you want.” You bite down on your lip, feeling your smile stretch wide across your face as you lace your fingers with his.
