HARU HARU | Do Not Edit.

© HARU HARU | Do not edit.

kim namjoon | dating namjoon would be neck kisses and late nights in the studio and trips to antique bookstores and waking up with his limbs all over you because he just has to be touching you at all times

alternate versions: jimin | jungkook | hoseok | yoongi | seokjin | taehyung 

real__pcy 160715 Instagram Video Update: 잠온다.. (trans) Sleepy.. On the video: CY: Sehun-ah SH: Yes? CY: I’m really tired but i cant sleep SH: You can’t sleep? CY: What do i do when i cant sleep? SH: I heard you will become sleepy if you make your body tired CY: (starts to move and jump) CY: Ok i will sleep now

© 꿀물 | Do not edit. (1,2,3,4)

AU 17 and Dialogue 3 with Jungkook please?

Boy was this weird.

The clock on the wall ticked so innocently, so normally that it felt positively wrong. None of this situation was good, or normal, or okay whatsoever, actually – your hands had been shaking profusely for the last three hours since the stupid fucking rotten gym teacher caught you kicking the vending machine that had eaten the rest of your money, and since then sentenced you to an unnecessary detention. The first and only detention you had ever received. That single thought by itself made your stomach turn nauseatingly and your eyes sting at the prospect of what the fuck you were going to have to tell your mom – hi, I know I’m a straight-A student, but I was hungry and the machine was dumb and I was angry and–

And the door opened, and you jerked upright in your desk, startled at the sound of boots on the floor and the harsh voice of a teacher saying, “Do not let me catch you behind the bleachers again! Ever! Now sit down!”

He must have been six feet tall. But maybe it was the combat boots. Maybe it was the strange teal cardigan that accentuated his shoulders and the tight fit of his jeans. Maybe the pretty yet stern arch of his brows, the dark glitter of his eyes as he rolled them and wandered over to pick a desk.

The door shut promptly behind him, and he sighed as he took the seat beside you.

You blinked.

What the fuck?

Before he could turn to you, you glanced away, staring a hole into the wood grain in front of you with your cheeks burning. You recognized him, sort of – his name started with a J or something, and you’d seen him with the likes of Taehyung before. Definitely a troublemaker. Wait, didn’t the teacher say bleachers? What was he doing behind the bleachers? Holy shit, you were in detention with an actual bad kid. How could this have happened?

“What’re you in for?”

“Jesus,” you squeaked automatically, hand going to your frantic heart. “You scared me!”

But your plan of avoiding eye contact had gone straight out the window, and you were now staring plainly at him and registering just how attractive he was. Your lips parted in silence, and he tilted his head, regarding you with interest.

“Sorry,” he settled on after a moment, though he didn’t seem very sorry. “But what are you in for? I’ve never seen you in here before.”

Swallowing thickly, you grimaced and admitted, “I kicked the vending machine.”

For whatever reason, that earned a genuine and sweet laugh out of the boy, and you found your chest feeling too tight and swollen, like it was full of balloons.

“Okay,” he said slowly, still smiling crookedly, “so why were you kicking the vending machine?”

“It ate my money!” you whined. “I missed lunch because of a make-up test and I was starving and it ate the last quarters I had. I-I mean, I was already in a bad mood, and this just…”

“Was the last straw?”

“Yes. And then Coach Han saw me.”

Your companion pulled a face that mirrored your own distaste perfectly.

“He’s a cock.”

“I know.”

“That’s probably at least a little bit my fault, though. I kind of broke the staff coffee machine this morning.”

That took a moment to process, but when it did, your jaw hung. “How the hell did you manage that?”

And just like that, you were hook, line, and sinker. He hadn’t even told you his name yet.

It wasn’t like Jeongguk had wandered into detention with the intention of wrapping some cute girl around his finger, nor was that even his game plan 99% of the time (as opposed to what the student body tended to think). But you had, interesting, a big, comfy, plain t-shirt in a faded red that he thought he might have a matching one of at home, and the smudges of ink and graphite on the outside of your hand implied that you really weren’t a regular around here. So he felt bad for you, too.

Jeongguk was kind enough to explain how he snuck into the staff room most mornings to get his coffee, and found himself absorbed in the attentive nature of your eyes and the awed, genuine curve of your mouth as you listened to his horrendous stories of school havoc. And you asked questions without thinking, that he answered without thinking.

Forty-five minutes later, the conversation lapsed. Not uncomfortably, though. Just enough for him to rummage around his backpack and pull out two apples and an entire jar of peanut butter.

He didn’t miss the way your gaze honed in on it lustfully, and Jeongguk had to whistle to distract himself from the passing urge to make you look at him like that.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and whipped out his switchblade, neatly slicing up the apples into wedges. Scooping up a handful, he passed them over to you with a meaningful glance and half-smile.

“We can share, you know,” he murmured, and the way you looked at him so full of relief and gratitude and timidness kind of made him feel like he forgot who he was and where he was and everything, actually, everything except you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled back, cheeks too warm and hurting a little from smiling so hard and shy. Jeongguk nudged the peanut butter to his right – close enough for you to scoop out of, too – and the air was filled with nothing but happy hums and the soft crunching of apples.

“Want the last one?” he asked, gesturing with the remaining chunk. He could see the want in your eyes, but you bit your lip out of politeness and he snickered before dragging it through the peanut butter and leaning forward. Too surprised to react fast enough, you helplessly opened your mouth and he placed it on your tongue, thumb drifting against your bottom lip before he flicked your chin and shut your jaw for you.

“Eat.”

Feeling a little dizzy, you obeyed, and swallowed. Licking the juices up, you couldn’t look away from him, and Jeongguk stared back at you unreadably – dangerously, even. Like he wanted something from you.

Then the bell rang and your heart leapt, hurriedly grabbing your bag to escape the handsome, charming, kind delinquent.

“Th-thanks for the food,” you stammered, remembering your manners despite the situation. “You’re a life saver.”

“No problem. I like watching you eat.” Pause. When you looked up, Jeongguk looked flustered and slightly wide-eyed before he spluttered, “I-I didn’t mean it like that. That came out weird. I-I meant I’m happy to feed you? Fuck, that’s not–”

He was interrupted by your merciless giggles, and the awkwardness melted out of his bones. Leaving detention had been entirely forgotten, and Jeongguk decided to take the opportunity while he still had it.

“If you’re still hungry after school, I wouldn’t mind taking you to get food or something. If you want. My treat. You should really eat, you know.”

This was a terrible idea. You could imagine the look on your mom’s face when you got home late, plus the combination of detention, and you should have said no.

And Jeongguk looked so sheepish and so desperate that you just sort of nodded, “I would really really really like that, I think.”

“You think?”

“Positive.”

–

Jeongguk was nice enough to give you a ride home, and by some stroke of luck or karma or deal with the devil himself, his dazzling smile and perfectly polite handshake smoothed over every wrong in the world with your mother.

You hoped he was out of earshot when she whispered excitedly, “Are you dating? Is he your boyfriend?”

“Mom!”

(He wasn’t out of earshot. But Jeongguk grinned ear-to-ear.

Maybe he could fix that.)