mmjunsu

[mmjunsu]

KEEPING UP WITH THE KWAKS 🦆

starring: kwak ji dam as kris jenner, @mmjimin as kourteny, @mmjungmi as khloe, jihye as rob cuz she absent lmao, @mmjieun as kim, @mmjina as kylie & junsu as kendall

bonus scene: the kwaks on their way to bust jungmi out of the police station like:

[mmjunsu]

mmhaewon‌:

there are, of course, easier ways to approach this. she could just go to ‘care of magical creatures’– or she could get firsthand experience. she could just do it on her own– or she could enlist the help of a more-than-willing companion. 

she could just sneak in through the backdoor, but junsu’s not six feet tall for nothing.

“don’t have anything to do, do ya, junie?” no sooner does he turn his head is her hand on his arm, steering him away from an open classroom and towards the field instead. no one’s going to throw a fit if they’re a little late to class– how could you possibly stay mad at someone as cute as junsu? (backed up by purely scientific evidence, by the way. and by scientific evidence she means the hoard of first year girls currently giving her the stink eye.)

“think you can gimme a boost again?”

today would be like any other day.

this is what junsu thought on his way to school as he picked up nammie at his place, and the two walked side-by-side as per usual. nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, except for maybe when the lunch ahjumma placed an extra yogurt on junsu’s lunch tray, and he smiled brightly at her in thanks (that was extraordinary, he thought).

the day continued as it always had— second block would be arithmancy, ugh!— and junsu trudged to class with his backpack slung around one shoulder, unsuspecting, until he felt a tug at his arm and was suddenly being pulled away from his dreaded second block.

(at first he thinks it’s the divine deity finally answering his prayers of cancelling arithmancy for life, but it turns out to just be oh haewon sunbae— a deity in her own right, at least through junsu’s fanboy-tinted glasses).

“sunbae-nim” the word slips through surprise as he lets her drag him away, and then they’re faced with a wall.

(literally and figuratively: kwak junsu couldn’t refuse a sunbae, and he was definitely going to be late to class).

“of course!!” he’s much too compliant, maybe after years of being his sister’s own personal 빵 셔틀. junsu drops his bag on the floor, looking at the varsity quidditch player with doe eyes and determination as he folds his hands on top of each other and shifts closer to the wall.

“where are you going today, sunbae?”

[mmjunsu]

mmcheol‌:  

[...] heart in his throat, it renders him speechless, giving him only the ability to stare at this boy who looked like a kicked puppy. realizing where they were, and who he was with, cheol gathers his bearings, flushing scarlet as he hastily pulls his hand out of junsu’s grip with a curt response to his inquiry, “i’m fine—” he puts on a brave front, but he’s terrified of the feelings being elicited from him by the very man who had been making heart eyes at his sister just hours earlier “—shouldn’t you be with seol, right now ? —” cheol doesn’t understand why it hurts him to say that “—go back inside and watch over her. i need to clear my head, i think something’s wrong with me…” 

he shoulders past the first year, exiting the great hall and stumbling into the courtyard yonder. he peels off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and letting the cool air soothe his flushed skin. settling down unto a thatch of grass, cheol cradles his head between his hands, elbows supported by his knees as he tries processing what had just happened, trying to rationalize why it hurt to turn junsu away, why he suddenly felt like crying. “this fucking sucks…”

he’s confused.

he can vaguely remember hours before, a silhouette of someone with long hair (who looks oddly like cheol) in his memory. but that silhouette disappears in a puff of smoke, and once the smoke is gone there is only clarity: that han cheol is avoiding him, and kwak junsu is hurt when the other shakes him off so relentlessly.

“hyung!”

he’s left calling after him, lips turned in a frown. normally, kwak junsu was not persistent— he was passive, more than anything. but something about watching cheol’s back to him tugged at his insides, his gut twisting in a convoluted mess of emotions (emotions he couldn’t understand, but ones that he was acting on, squeezing his fists as he mustered up the courage to follow after the other boy).

he’s dizzy when he steps out into the night air, chilled air prickling at his rosed cheeks (it’s not the alcohol anymore, he thinks, as he spots the other boy sitting in the grass and his heart thump, thump, thumps against his rib-cage). swallowing, he makes his way towards him, awkwardly sitting down beside cheol as he clears his throat and looks out into the distance. 

“you okay, hyung?”

his voice is soft now that he realizes his close proximity to han cheol, and the thumping in his chest doesn’t stop. he doesn’t know how he finds the courage but he tilts his chin to look at him, biting down on bottom lip self-consciously as a million thoughts raced through his head.

(was hyung mad at him? why did he look so distraught? was it something he’d done? did his breath smell?—)

[mmjunsu]

NEW PHONE WHO DIS

his mood was determined the moment they entered the tent of the pocha.

when jungmi noona had declared that she’d buy her youngest sibling chicken, kwak junsu didn’t even bother saving the game he had been playing: the first year dropped everything he was doing, and if he had a tail, he would’ve wagged it as his second eldest sister patted his head and lead him out of the kwak condo.

on their way down the street, junsu was already thinking of what he was going to get: he knew for a fact that there were approximately six fried chicken joints in the their neighbourhood (his favourite one was just a ten minute walk away!). but as they walked a bit farther out, junsu didn’t recognize the direction they were going in.

oh, maybe it’s a new fried chicken place? he thought excitedly, skipping along beside his sister like an overgrown labrador.

“chicken feet?”

it was the second time he’d said it that night, the first being the moment they neared the pocha. now he said it incredulously once more under his breath as the pocha ahjumma placed the steaming plate of spicy chicken feet in front of them.

(to give kwak jungmi credit, kwak junsu was a picky eater. but they’ve been living together his entire life!! how could she oh-so-conveniently forget every single time they went out to eat the things that junsu hated??).

with a slight pout, junsu reached for the plastic eating gloves on the table. he grimaced as the chicken feet glistened, gingerly putting them on. kwak junsu was picky, but he also didn’t dare complain to kwak jungmi. he sucked in a deep breath; mentally preparing himself for chicken feet.

beggars can’t be choosers... right?

@mmjungmi​

[mmjunsu]

🗑️  trashcan archive     /    deleted messages , unread edition .

  ✖ ➠   @mmjunsu​​ .  

[ deleted ]

[ 04 / 21 / 19 ]

👤 보조개 꼬마 : hey you, kiddo, junsu, bestest boy!  [ unread ] 👤 보조개 꼬마 : you awake? i’m scared to go to sleep… [ unread ]

[ deleted ]

Keep reading

[mmjunsu]

mmcheol‌:

as his gaze shifts upward, he makes eye contact with kwak junsu, a first year who trailed after his twin sister like a puppy. at first it had bothered him—every overprotective instinct he had flared to life, making him wary and on edge at the first year’s intention towards his sister. but in that moment, all he could think of was ‘when did this fucker get so cute ?�� rather than the apprehension he usually felt whenever he laid his eyes on him. a thought which further enflamed the flush on cheol’s face. he scrambles onto his feet, dusting himself off before skittering away in the opposite direction, running away from the ( pretty pretty oh so fucking pretty ) boy and the riotous feelings threatening to bloom within his ribcage like roses and thorns.

the entire night had been a bore: he’d much rather be at home, playing video games— not siting at the dinner table across from his crush, chin in his palm, pouting as he watched her laugh with someone else.

he’d had his first sip of alcohol but that was where the events of the evening plateaued: the alcohol in his system seemed to wane off as the night progressed (although his cheeks were still flushed, but that seemed to be more the firewhiskey than anything). nammie was nowhere to be found, and junsu had spent dinner stabbing his foie gras as he watched the love of his life direct a smile he’d never seen before at someone that wasn’t him. he’d lost his appetite, he thought, but then dessert was being rolled around and at sixteen, kwak junsu couldn’t say no to sweets.

except, the snitch-decorated cupcakes being served tasted like shit, and he wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the gold dusted paper liner. junsu suddenly felt a rush to his head— it couldn’t be the alcohol from earlier, could it?— and he squeezed his eyes shut despite himself.

the room seemed to be spinning, he almost felt like he was spinning, until he heard a crash behind him and he jolted out of his seat to see han cheol on the floor behind him.

“hyung...?”

the word leaves his lips slowly; what’s this? was everything moving in slow motion?? they make eye contact and his heart skips a beat.

junsu’s hand flutters up to clutch his chest, lips parted in confusion. han cheol scrambles to his feet and runs away from him and junsu doesn’t know why, but he’s following after him, dread weaved between his eyebrows at the thought of seeing his back to him any longer.

“hyung!”

kwak junsu grasps cheol’s wrist before he could get any farther, turning him to face him.

“hyung are you okay? are you hurt?”

kwak junsu has never been more worried in his life.     

[mmjunsu]

mmseol‌:

this is new to her. the whole ‘taking care of people’ thing? it’s never been something that she’s ever really had to do, or has ever wanted to, actually. she’s always been babied– by the han family, cheol, ( it’s TWO AND A HALF MINUTES ??!! ) kyung, and pretty much anyone she’s ever interacted with. babie energy, she supposes.

but here she is, sitting behind one of the tapestries with junsu, a BIGGER babie than her. “y’know, you don’t… have to drink it.” the flask full of firewhiskey is balanced dangerously on top of her knee– one wrong move, and it’d come crashing down and stain the pretty dress she’d dug out of her trunk just for this event. 

how did she even end up here, anyway?

ah, right. he’d been in the baek ho commons, and offered to escort her for the short walk to the dining hall. “i really only brought this to pre-game for this shit, in case it’s like, boring as fuck.”

how did he even end up here, anyways?

kwak junsu was no stranger to black-tie events, no— ji dam would always parade around galas and cocktail parties, entertaining the upper crust with banal small talk and other trivialities. and kwak junsu had always been ten steps behind her, scratching his itchy, gel-downed scalp and loosening his tie. he had been young then, but not much changed: his hair wasn’t gel downed, but he still fiddled with his tie as he sat in the baek ho commons; waiting.

(the moment han seol stepped down from girl’s dormitory in her powdered blue dress, kwak junsu nearly choked himself as he accidentally fumbled his tie and tightened it a little too tight).

and now they sat just outside the dining hall, hidden behind a tapestry, a glistening flask of fire whiskey precariously sitting on han seol’s knee. the first year had been around alcohol enough to know what it was, but he’d never actually tasted it. he blinked a few times as he stared at the flask, his fingers nervously curving around the groove of the bottle as he brought it towards him.

“i know,” he replied, in what he thought was a cool and nonchalant tone (and not by any means a nervous tone, because he wasn’t a baby or anything). “i’ve had alcohol before, you know” he didn’t know why he was lying straight through his teeth, but he looked over at seol for affirmation as he unscrewed the cap and brought the opening to his lips:

what came next was absolute excruciating pain.

kwak junsu’s face contorted through the mixture of emotions he felt as the fire whiskey practically seared through the inner linings of his throat, his face growing a deep shade of red, all the way to the tips of his ears. he masked the oncoming cough bubbling in his throat with a sputter, clearing his throat once then twice as his knees absentmindedly knocked with seol’s.

“why’d you fill it with the cheap stuff???” he chastised, to deflect, brows furrowed as he cleared his throat a third time. he didn’t want her to think he was some kid (even though he had no idea what he was saying). he wiped his mouth as he looked at her, outstretching his arm to hand her back the flask. his other hand came up to hook around the knot in his tie, loosening it. was it hot in here or what??        

— 오늘은, 유난히, 네가 이뻐 보인다!

[mmjunsu]

LOVE SCENARIO

@mmnana

here’s the thing about first love that nobody tells you: it sucks.

for the amount of hours junsu spent sitting in the living room, peering over his phone as he and his sisters all clung onto the latest drama, nothing seemed to prepare him for this.

(how the normally sociable kwak junsu could turn into a flushed mess, at a loss for words when he usually couldn’t find a single breath to fit all of them. how his palms could get sweaty without moving an inch and his knees could wobble from a single glance).

in the dramas, things flowed as if guided by some predetermined force (jungmi noona calls it a predictable script, jina mutters something about fate). first love was depicted as romantic; easy. but there isn’t anything romantic about itchy palms from nervous sweating and tripping over wobbly legs. and there’s definitely nothing easy about being pigeonholed into the dreadful role that seems to follow him wherever he goes:

little. brother.

when han seol calls him those two words in passing, kwak junsu feels the earth crumble beneath him as he reads her lips in slow motion. little brother? he kicks at the gravel, pouting, as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. he’s only a year younger, he mumbles, brows furrowed in petulance.

he’d gone home that night with the worry practically etched on his face. naturally, none of the kwak sisters noticed as junsu stared at them with a clearly pained expression. but he had to bite his tongue, his head drooping sadly as he picked at his dinner. no, he thought. if any of his sisters knew, they’d never live it down.

sunwoo hyung proved just as inexperienced, and gyul hyung simply stared at him with his regular deadpan.

(desperate times call for desperate measures, and since he couldn’t go to his sisters, he could go to the next best thing):

“kimha noona!”

(at least one of the twins would prove helpful).

junsu plopped down beside kim hana at lunch hour, his metal lunch tray clanking against the dining hall table. he puts an extra yogurt on kim hana’s tray wordlessly— payment, upfront, for what he asks for next:

“how can i get someone to like me?”

[mmjunsu]

mmjina‌:

starting with the fact that junsu – oh, junsu – had committed one of the most heinous crimes against her. 

a crime he would pay for right now: the scene opens up, a door unlocked and fingers curling around the knob. her frame, while small in comparison, towers threatening in the doorway as she stares at him head-on. a glower, of the sorts, marked onto his profile; bared teeth and all, jina was pissed.

and if looks could kill, junsu would quite permanently be dead right now. 

it was funny how things could fall into place so easily; how things could pick up from where they left off, without any thought of the circumstances prior.

(like how he’d shared an uncharacteristically emotional reunion with his sister; and then he was sitting at the kitchen island moments later, stuffing his puffy face with breakfast as she slipped back out into obscurity. don’t mention it to anyone just yet, she’d made him promise, but it seemed like the idea was already obliterated as he burned his tongue on seaweed soup).

and things went back to normal, like always.

maybe he should’ve taken it as a sign, when he walked into the apartment and was greeted with absolute silence— like the calm before the storm, it lulled him into a false sense of security as he kicked off his shoes comfortably and left a trail of his belongings on his way to the rec room.

maybe he should’ve been more cautious when he found a full, unopened bag of shrimp crackers and pepero sticks— a rarity in the kwak household— and it seemed like the stars were all aligned for him when he opened the fridge and his favourite banana milk was stocked on the top shelf.

(ahjumma must’ve gone shopping, was what he had thought, when he should’ve realized: ahjumma had bought him his last meal).

the alignment of the stars were clear now as kwak junsu took a fistful of shrimp crackers as he paused his video game, and the doorknob twisted open to reveal the grim reaper.

junsu could easily recognize the stages of kwak jina’s wrath, but the look she gave him from the threshold as he stared back at her with doe-eyes wide open and mouth agape, was positively lethal.

it felt like an eternity as he wracked his brain for the things he could’ve done wrong, a single  cracker from the bunch in his fist falling down into his lap.

(after quickly assessing and reassessing his memory, kwak junsu found that he didn’t know what it was his sister was staring at him like she would kill him for, but after sixteen years of being the youngest, he quickly moved on to his second option: run).

“noona, hold up—”

the shrimp crackers all fell to the floor as kwak junsu tossed the game controller to the side, jumping up onto the couch and stumbling as he tripped over his own lanky legs. he tripped over the edge and quickly shot back up as he hid behind the couch: his only line of defense from kwak jina’s blazing stare.

REPERCUSSIONS

[mmjunsu]

all 4 his 첫사랑

a morning text:

( sms → 한설 ) 자요? ( sms → 한설 ) i’m in the commons.(sms  → 한설 ) there’s a matcha latte if u want it.(sms  → 한설 ) (but i can’t imagine anyone else wanting your sea of sweetener. 10 pumps? really? ㅋㅋㅋ)

an angry passive-aggressive text:

( sms → 한설 ) idk why don’t you ask that hyung from earlier.( sms → 한설 ) you 2 seemed close enough to ask that.

a vague text:

( sms → 한설 )  [link]

a worried/desperate/angry text voicemail:

OUTGOING CALL TO 한설

THE NUMBER YOU ARE CALLING IS UNAVAILABLE…

PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE TONE:

“야, 한설. where are you? how could you just hang up on someone like that— how much did you have to drink? if you’re at the same spot, i’m coming. stay there, okay?”  

a text not meant for you:

( sms → 한설 ) i think she’s into flower boys but then there’s seungyeon hyung and i just???? i’m so confused, hyung, help 😩

a sassy text:

( sms → 한설 ) 예예, 선배님

a long-winded confession text:

( sms → 한설 ) honestly, i noticed you first at try-outs.( sms → 한설 ) not because you’re pretty or anything— i mean you are.( sms → 한설 ) but i mean, because you’re a really good flyer.( sms → 한설 ) i wouldn’t be surprised if you got scouted for varsity, there are some big shoes to fill but y’know that saying: if the shoe fits? is that how it goes? ( sms → 한설 ) (come on, you know you’re pretty, right?)

a congratulatory text:

( sms → 한설 ) 오오올~( sms → 한설 ) just happened to pass by year two’s rankings.( sms → 한설 ) 역시, 우리 선배.( sms → 한설 )  축하해용~

a text that should never have been was never sent:

( sms → 한설 ) 좋아해, 너를

DELETE MESSAGE?

NO     YES  

[mmjunsu]

all the txts bby 💛

a morning text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i know u’ve probably cracked something & are v v excited about it ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) but please can u do that nOT in the kitchen next to my room?(sms  → 🦆정미 누나 ) it’s saturday ㅠㅠ

an angry text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) 아 누나 좀!( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i blamed jina for my uniform and now i have a bruise and pink robes. ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) 😤

a drunk hyper text:

( sms →  🦆정미 누나 ) NOOOONAAAAAAAA( sms →  🦆정미 누나 ) DONGPYO HYUNG WENT UP IN RANKING!!!! ( sms →  🦆정미 누나 ) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1( sms →  🦆정미 누나 ) make sure u vote for him next week 2( sms →  🦆정미 누나 ) !!!!! he needs to make it to top 10 ㅠㅠ

a vague text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) 몰라 ~

a worried text:

OUTGOING CALL TO 🦆정미 누나

THE NUMBER YOU ARE CALLING IS UNAVAILABLE…

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) u haven’t been home in two days!!!( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i mean, i’m not worried or anything...( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) asking for ji dam.

a text not meant for you:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) don’t tell jungmi noona

(1 minute later):

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i can explain...

a sassy text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) 싫어요!! :(

a long-winded confession text (that was never sent):

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i don’t know who to go to because it seems like i’m all alone in thi— ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) sometimes i feel like i hate mom just because y—  ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) what’s so bad abou— ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i feel like i can never say anyth—  ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) why don’t you take me seriou—

DELETE MESSAGE?

NO     YES  

a misguided advice text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) idk aren’t centaurs and hippogriffs the same?

a desperate hurried text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) n( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) oona( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) noona( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) do u htink u coud opEn th do or?  ( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) went 2 th claw mac hine t0day...

a congratulatory text:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) i saw your article in witch weekly!!!🎉( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) but noona, what’s a sexoscope?

a text that should never have been sent:

( sms → 🦆정미 누나 ) you’re not my mom.

[mmjunsu]

wiztagram

kwak junsu’s wiztagram is far from aesthetic: if he had to describe it in one word, it would just be ‘archive’. because kwak junsu is obsessed with documenting everything: from selcas, to food pics, to ootds, to candids of his friends and family (including kjd’s white pom, louis vuitton— louie for short). junsu will be that kid literally on the floor trying to get the ~perfect angle, a tru homie. except he’ll tag you in everything and use excessive hashtags but follow his trash accnt anyways @junsu6~  

[mmjunsu]

mmjihye‌:

“junsu,” she starts, and there are a lot of ways to go about it: that was disrespectful, apologize right now! or hey, I’m sorry, this probably isn’t the right time, I’ll just drop by later, but neither of those feel right. so jihye steps forward, then back, then moves in again, just slightly, hands gesturing stiffly as if to hug junsu. or maybe form a basket in her hands. who knows? “hey—i’m sorry. i really am. you’ve seen my letters, right? i know you read them. if there’s anyone in this house who would read them, it’s you—”

“and thank you,” jihye adds, because there is too much to say, but not enough strength in her to articulate any better. “i meant everything i said in those letters. so don’t cry, okay? you shouldn’t cry. i was never really gone—it could have been worse.”

were apologies supposed to sound this patronizing? jihye doesn’t have time to think (of course she doesn’t, not when she’s being implicated) because she turns and rushes inside jidam’s office.

they were never really good at expressing their emotions.

even though junsu cried the most out of the kwak kids, he still found it difficult to say the important things; the things that mattered.

(a trait they undoubtedly inherited from their mother, but they’d renounce it in a heart-beat if questioned).

it’s strange, receiving this quasi-comfort from jihye— not because she had been gone for a whole year, but because kwak jihye out of all of them was the most avoidant. anything to get out of a situation that involved emotions was a pure kwak trait, especially coming from the third eldest.

still, it’s comforting, the way his sisters tries to hug him, her arms encasing him awkwardly and shifting away. if anything, it causes the boy trying to hold back his tears to break the dam, tears spilling as if he couldn’t turn them off.

she mentions the letters and he nods his head wordlessly, a blubbering mess. he kept them all hidden away in secret, in a little box in the deepest crevice of his closet— he’s wanted to keep it a secret from his mom and his sisters, something that was purely and specially his. 

i was never really gone—it could have been worse.

and she turns and he’s left with thoughts of how it could’ve been worse: what could’ve been worse then his sister leaving without a goodbye? he didn’t even want to think about it. like a child, he’s chasing after her wandering back. but unlike when he was a kid and reached her waist, his arms came to wrap around her shoulders and he could’ve rested his chin on the top of her head, but he was bowing it against her hair instead as he sniffled.

“noona,”

he began, his voice every bit as vulnerable as he felt. and he could’ve questioned her, blown up in her face about why she had been so irresponsible, that even a kid like him could see that. but instead he’s hugging her tight and squeezing his eyes shut as he breathed out in relief to have his sister in front of him again.

“i missed you,” because he didn’t have a chance to tell her before, and he knew that if he didn’t say it now that she’d already seen him cry, he didn’t think he ever would.     

home alone

[mmjunsu]

mmsunwoo‌:

alright, here. put these on.  ( ` he hands junsu his extra headset, tapping the mic even though he knows it’s working just fine. old habits do certainly die hard. ) it’s working fine, yeah ?

( ` he cracks his knuckles ( again, out of habit. ) as he waits for the webcam to boot up. it always takes longer than what he would deem as optimal. ) ( ` he makes a mental note to maybe sneak around the castle and take a look at yosul’s router sometime. or at the very least, perhaps bug his dad for an ethernet cable. ) ( ` he’s drumming his fingers and shaking his leg now, lips pursed as he stares at the spinning, digital circle on the screen. forever loading. ) ( ` everyone has virtues, albeit some more than others. patience, however, was one that sunwoo had always lacked. )

dude, the wifi here sucks. i mean it was never super good but like, i don’t remember it being this bad. ( ` he’s exaggerating, always having been one with a flare for dramatics when it comes to less than lightening fast internet speeds. ) ( ` it’s as soon as those words leave his mouth, though, that the webcam flickers on. his scrunched nose and exasperated eyes light up the display, staring straight back at him. ) yooo, finally ! okay, let’s get it.

( ` he scoots his chair over, beckoning junsu to move closer into the frame as he finishes setting up the stream. ) so i split the screen, your gameplay will be on the left half. you’re not nervous, right ? ( ` his grin is toothy, complimenting the mirthful glint in his eye in all of the right places. ) just act natural and don’t be a sore loser when i kick your little league ass in front of thousands of viewers. ( ` he’s only half joking, of course. )

you ready, dude ? i’m gonna start it now.

( ` and he hits the “GO LIVE” button with a sense of renewed purpose.  )

( here, he’s in his element— it’s not the pc bang by the school, or the one by his house but still, anywhere he can play video games, kwak junsu feels at home. he adjusts the headphones handed to him, smiling at sunwoo with crescent lids crinkling. ) mhmm, it’s good, hyung ( it’s his first time doing a live— with one of his favourite streamers no less— and junsu does feel a bit nervous, but the fact that it’s sunwoo helps ease the nerves. ) i bet it’s on purpose, to help us study or whatever. i get the worst reception in the baekho dorms ( he rolls his eyes at the thought: kwak junsu was an expert at finding all the best hot spots on campus for this very reason. )

( he scoots closer to sunwoo, looking at his reflection in the tiny box on the right hand side of the screen; excited. ) i’m not nervous! ( he lies protests childishly, scrunching his nose before his expression straightens out sincerely. ) hyung you’re so good, ( mischevious curl of the lips soon follows. ) but you might have some competition starting today, fakefaker-nim ( what? shit-talking was standard. junsu nods his head emphatically and sunwoo declares that they’ll be starting. )

( his eyes lighten up as the number of viewers increases exponentially, and junsu looks at the hyeon mu boy for cues. his attention is drawn to the chat box in the corner, and he lets out a shy laugh as he self-consciously shakes his fringe out of his face. ) 

HEAD IN THE GAME

[mmjunsu]

maracmm‌:

“Junsu!” The smile grows when the insignia on his cap is confirmed to be of the varsity team’s, and her hand raises in playful salute. “Appreciate the rep.” 

There’s still space on the counter; momentarily forgetting what she’s got in tow, Mara begins putting down her things down to ring up: Pringles, party sized candy bag one, more Pringles, a box of tissues, party sized candy bag two—

“It’s good to have them in bulk.” What she means is his Maxi haul. What she lifts up from the bottom of the basket: not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests. 

(Huh!)

dear godric, he thinks frantically upon hearing his name spill out of familiar lips, dear dangun wanggeum:

he wished for nothing more in this moment than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole (including the till clerk bastard, who did nothing to help the situation, and just smirked at junsu at the look of complete shock on the first year’s face when he heard mara fucking cheng call his name).

now, he’s got two options:

one: throw whatever change his sisters gave him to the smug till clerk, take the stuff, and run. no looking back.

(option one would be tricky to execute, with the risk of having one of his favourite quidditch players thinking that kwak junsu was a rude little brat— and oh godric, we couldn’t have that! more than the sanitary products taunting him on the counter, he’d really hate for mara cheng to think that kwak junsu was disrespectful). 

so that only left option two: play it cool.

(again, tricky to execute. kwak junsu was not cool).

slowly, junsu turned to face his nightmare mara cheng, half-bowing and nodding frantically with a red face as she pointed out his chollima’s cap.

“of course, sunbae-nim!” he found himself bellowing, his normally deep voice cracking an octave at the second syllable. “go chollimas! ha-ha..ha-ha-ha.” he raised his fist up lamely to pump in salute, and silently cursed himself at his awkward laughter.

of course, sunbae is the epitome of cool as she casually places her things on the counter, acknowledging the elephant in the room with an air of nonchalance kwak junsu could only dream of (he, on the other hand, was pretty sure his face was now a bright tomato red, the top of his ears poking out of the hat tinged with the colour).

“actually, this isn’t even bulk, i have five sisters and they’re a—” he doesn’t know why he’s spilling out his life story, probably nerves, but he’s soon silenced as mara plops down one, two, three pregnancy tests on the counter (he didn’t know what they looked like, but he can read, and the tomato-colour is now deepening to a more worrisome shade).

“sunbae...”

the clerk bags his things and hands them to junsu as he gapes at the sixth year, lost for words.

(irrationally, the first thought out of kwak junsu’s mind is: ‘i’ll have to raise a child’. for the sake of the chollimas, he’ll do anything).

he finished the transaction as he hands the clerk money and takes the bag and holds it reverently in front of him. he walks outside to let mara finish her transaction, and thinks maybe he should just leave her alone, but the moment she steps outside, he’s spinning around to face her with a pout and his words spill out very seriously; sincere:

“sunbae-nim, i’ll support you. you’re my favourite chaser, you know.”                 

[mmjunsu]

✆ ♔ ♠ ☏ ⁇ ♣ ✺ √ ☠ ☢ ☼ ✘ DO THEM ALL !!1! 😘

a morning text:

OUTGOING CALL TO 곽지나💀

THE NUMBER YOU ARE CALLING IS UNAVAILABLE…

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) you can’t say i didn’t try to wake you up.( sms → 곽지나💀 ) i’m off 2 school byeeeee~

an angry text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) why is my uniform PINK?????????

a drunk hyper text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) 아잉 사줘~ ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘 사줘~

a vague text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) maybe i will, maybe i won’t 👀

a worried whiny text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) yah, kwak jina ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) :(( sms → 곽지나💀 ) how come you’re not home yet? ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) you said not to start produce x without you ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) 빨리 와~ ㅠㅠ

a text not meant for you:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) i like you…

(1 minute later):

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) let’s just pretend that i didn’t just send that, call?

a sassy text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) no.

a long-winded confession text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) you know, we’ve been through everything together. and i’ve always felt most comfortable with you since we’re the youngest, right?  ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) and you know i love you, right?( sms → 곽지나💀 ) and you know i didn’t mean it when i called you an ugly pig when i was ten, right? you know you’re pretty, right?( sms → 곽지나💀 ) and you know… i didn’t mean to break your monsta x album just now…  ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) …right?

a misguided advice text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) idk ask mom or smthg.

a desperate text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) noona.( sms → 곽지나💀 ) if ji dam asks i’m studying in the library, okay? ( sms → 곽지나💀 ) pls just cover for me this once 🙏🙏🙏  

a congratulatory text:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) congrats on winning 4th year rep, noona 🎉🥳( sms → 곽지나💀 ) rip your social life tho 😜  

a text that should never have been sent:

( sms → 곽지나💀 ) don’t you feel sorry for mom?

[mmjunsu]

mmjihye‌:

“junie,” she manages, trying for a smile. jihye faces him fully now, having to tilt her head upwards to actually meet his gaze, and there goes that odd, painful pang in her chest again. “you wouldn’t know if mom has changed the password to her safe, would you?”

he’d dreamt of birds again: with their beady little eyes and scarily strong beaks, always looming (over his life, and over his head: just last week he’d been shit on by a crow and kwak ji dam chastised him for complaining when he came home. ‘it’s good luck’ she’d quipped over her glass of pinot, not even looking at the boy with the miserable expression). except, in his dream, junsu was the bird, and he was being chased by a white tiger on an endless loop until he was falling, falling, falling...

(aren’t birds supposed to fly? what kind of bird can’t even fly).

junsu startled awake, knocking his head against the headboard as he sat up in his bed, wincing. his mind spun terribly as he rubbed the back of his head; confused. he’d stopped telling his mother about his dreams since he was in primary— she’d always perform oneiromancy on the kwak children as part of their divination practice— but he couldn’t help but feel curious and interpreted it despite himself (his conclusion? birds are scary but not as scary as being chased by a tiger). the bright red of the digital alarm clock yelled 6:09 AM.

half-asleep, he got up, bare feet padding against the hardwood groggily. with his eyes closed, he stumbled into the familiar direction of the bathroom, occasionally bumping into the walls as he tried to blink his eyes awake. he’d reached the threshold, finally, when across the hallway he noticed a shadow at the entrance of kwak ji dam’s study.

lips pouted and brows furrowed, his feet took him out of curiosity (kwak junsu’s curiosity would never be satiated, it seemed— if this were a horror movie, he’d be dead by now).

the shadow took shape into long hair and a skinny frame, and it was familiar, but it wasn’t one he’d seen in a while. like a while, while.

like a whole year.

“noona?”

he blinked his eyes a few more times as he squinted, brows still furrowed and lips still pouted. as if she had just come back from a trip to the store, kwak jihye acknowledges him with a smile and changes the topic to kwak ji dam’s safe. but kwak junsu doesn’t care about that— it’s as if he’d been hit by a stunning spell, staring at his older sister with his pouted lips now agape.

“yah, kwak jihye...” he frowns, and his voice is deeper than usual; serious (maybe it’s because he just woke up, or maybe it’s because the sight of his sister looking so nonchalant made him more upset than he thought). kwak junsu had never addressed his older sisters so informally (except jina, naturally), but it had just slipped out of his lips in a warble.

(oh, no).

he would not cry, he was not going to cry; she’d been gone for so long, he’d grown up so much— he was not going to cry like some snot-nosed kid!

his lips trembled softly as he stared at her from the door, and he betrayed himself as he felt his eyes water and his expression twisted into a helpless grimace.

“kwak jihye, you— ” he started again (surely she’d give him a pounding for not addressing her properly, but he didn’t care), rubbing his eyes furiously: trying to cover up the fact that he was a whole five inches taller than when she’d last seen him, but still a whole ass cry baby.

home alone