‼️ UPDATE: ALL SPOTS HAVE BEEN FILLED, THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING!! ‼️
hey tumblr coers!! if any of you are usa based and able to, i’d really appreciate if you could join my group order to help me win a fc!! my birthday just passed recently and if would mean the WORLD to talk to my ults who got me through so much from pre-debut 🥹
the order is for the weverse version of the albums! albums ($13.50) are sorted to ur bias and if you want one unsorted js let me or my gom know ON INSTA!! if you want just inclusions, it’s $9! and if u can’t buy, pls js repost, like, and share if u see this so we can reach more ppl!! i would really appreciate it ☺️☺️
and if u can’t buy, pls js retweet, like, and share if u see this so we can reach more ppl!! i would really appreciate it ☺️☺️ (also, i’m so sorry for tagging this in the fic section but i want to reach as many of u as possible)
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
synopsis ✧ he’s desperate to make you love him again after your memory of him was damaged from suffering a bad head injury.
⤷ nonidol!seonghyeon ﾒ f!r .
contains ✧ texting au ⋮ heavy angst ⋮ crack ⋮ cursing ⋮ some fluff ⋮ underage drinking ⋮ mentions of vomit ⋮ yearning ⋮ unrequited love
✉️ a/n : thank you for all the love on this series so far <3 it truly means a lot! anyways here is part two. i’m afraid the angst won’t go away anytime soon…sorry 💔. the taglist for the series is still open—i’m adding most of the requests to my main cortis taglist as well.
ᰔ enjoy! - thvgia .
view part one & the rest of the series on my masterlist .
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
Summary: Y/N moves into a cheap apartment only to find out it’s haunted. Desperate, she asks for help, and Taehyun tags his friend Yeonjun—a rookie paranormal investigator. The catch? Yeonjun is a certified professional who is utterly terrified of ghosts.
⤷ choi yeonjun x fem! reader
a/n: violence and mentions of blood
12. seeking answers from a ghost
.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .
They entered Y/N's apartment hastily, the adrenaline still spiking in their blood, praying the landlord wasn't lurking in the stairwell.
Y/N barely made it three steps inside before she heard the deadbolt slam home behind her.
Click.
Then another.
Click.
She turned. Yeonjun was already twisting the second lock with furious speed.
"What are you doing?"
He completely ignored her, his fingers flying to the top of the frame. Click. The heavy chain lock slid into place.
"Yeonjun."
"Hold on."
"Why are you locking all the—"
Before she could even finish the sentence, he disappeared into the kitchen. Y/N blinked, standing frozen in the dim lighting of the entry hallway.
"...What."
A loud, agonizingly slow scraping noise echoed through the apartment. A moment later, Yeonjun reappeared, backward, dragging one of the heavy dining chairs behind him.
"The fuck are you doing?" she asked, flatly.
"Security."
"Security?"
"Security." He shoved the top of the chair firmly beneath the front door handle, wedging it in at a sharp angle.
Y/N stared. The chair looked completely ridiculous. The door opened inward. The chair wouldn't stop anybody.
"Yeonjun."
"What."
"That doesn't do anything."
"It does emotionally."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means I feel better," he said, stepping back to eye his masterpiece with the grim satisfaction of a man who had just completed a military-grade defense system.
"You're aware Park has keys, right?" Y/N pointed out, crossing her arms.
"Exactly."
"And how does the chair help?"
"It'll make noise."
"Yeonjun."
"If somebody opens that door, the chair falls over."
"Yeonjun."
"And then we'll know."
"We'll know while they're already inside the apartment."
"Correct."
Y/N rubbed her face, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. "Oh my god."
"For the record," Yeonjun said, pointing a finger directly at her face, "I survived this long because I take reasonable precautions."
"Reasonable?"
"Reasonable."
Shaking her head, Y/N turned her attention back toward the gaping breach in the wall. Leaving the entry hallway, they stepped through the narrow passage that led straight into the dead space they’d discovered on the blueprints—the room Park Mingyu had desperately tried to keep hidden.
But as they stepped inside, the atmospheric dread they expected was replaced by a hollow shock.
The hidden room had obviously been searched.
Park had gotten here first.
The small space was in absolute shambles. Wooden drawers had been pulled entirely from their tracks and emptied onto the floor. Papers were ripped apart into jagged pieces, scattered like confetti. In the corner, a dusty mattress had been violently cut open, its foam stuffing gouged out in frantic, desperate handfuls. Whatever Park was looking for, he had been absolutely losing his mind trying to find it.
Y/N’s chest tightened, a wave of panic crashing over her. "Oh my god... he was here. He did this. Yeonjun, if he knows we’re looking into this, if he catches us—"
She was understandably freaking out, her voice rising an octave, but when she looked over, Yeonjun was weirdly quiet.
He wasn't shaking. He wasn't looking around for an exit, and he hadn't pulled out his phone to text Beomgyu or Taehyun a panicked update. He was just standing there, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
Then he noticed something.
Miyeon wasn't reacting.
There were no sudden, spiritually aggressive drops in temperature. There was no chilling, disembodied laughter echoing through the walls, no overwhelming scent of vintage perfume, no sudden slamming of broken fixtures. Nothing.
And that was incredibly strange, because usually, the second they entered a space connected to the haunting, she started losing her shit. The entity always made its presence violently known. But right now, the air was completely dead.
That's when Yeonjun’s expression shifted from analytical to absolute certainty. "I'm talking to her."
Y/N’s head snapped toward him immediately. "To who?"
"Miyeon."
"Now?????"
"We keep making assumptions about her, Y/N," Yeonjun said, his voice dropping into a serious, steady register that she rarely heard from him.
"She tried to trap us in a wall!" Y/N hissed, gesturing wildly.
"Did she?" Yeonjun countered, looking directly at her. "Or was she trying to show us what Park did?"
"YEONJUN."
"Think about it," he pressed, taking a step further into the ruined room. "Every single piece of information we have about Miyeon came from us interpreting things. The photograph, the warnings, the noises. We inferred everything based on how we felt. Not from Miyeon herself."
Before Y/N could argue further, Yeonjun unzipped his heavy tactical backpack. He didn't pull out any Ouija-board bullshit. No candles, no salt circles, no horror movie nonsense. This was purely investigator-like.
He pulled out a heavy, professional-grade digital audio recorder, setting it carefully on a relatively clear wooden crate. Next, he drew his standard EMF reader, switching it on. The device gave a faint, healthy hum, its baseline green lights glowing steadily in the dark. Finally, he pulled out a localized temperature sensor, calibrating it with practiced, steady fingers.
Y/N just stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "You're actually doing your job."
"Shut up," he muttered, though there was no heat in it. He adjusted the microphone sensitivity on the recorder. "I have a license for a reason, you know."
The atmosphere in the room instantly grew tense. For once, Yeonjun wasn't running. He wasn't praying to a god he didn't believe in, and he wasn't shrieking like a banshee at a rustling curtain. He was deliberately inviting contact.
Y/N couldn’t move. Her spine was glued to the rough drywall, her eyes locked on the absolute wreckage of the room.
The heavy, sweet scent of floral perfume hung thick in the air, so suffocatingly dense it practically coated the back of her throat. Every instinct she possessed was screaming at her to dive backward through the hole in the wall, to burst through the front door and let Yeonjun’s emotional security chair shatter to pieces behind her.
Because being in this room didn't just scare her—it brought a visceral, terrifying memory crashing back into the front of her mind.
She could still see it. She could still see the entity the first time they had truly looked at it. The way its head had kept tilting, rolling with a sickening, wet crunching sound until the neck was bent at an entirely impossible, inverted angle, a dead woman's face staring at them completely upside down.
Y/N swallowed hard, her breath hitching in a shaky white plume. She remembered the thin beam of light cutting across that silhouette. She remembered what wasn't there. The caked, yellowed skin torn violently open where the eyelids should have been, clawed away into hollow sockets. Just two deep, bottomless pits of pure, liquid shadow, roiling and vibrating like static on an old television screen, bleeding dark smoke past her cheekbones.
And the worst part—the part that made Y/N’s knees want to buckle right now—was the memory of the reflection. Trapped inside the pitch-black voids of those empty eyes, Y/N had seen a tiny, distorted version of herself and Yeonjun. Except they weren't standing in her apartment. They were already trapped inside the wall. Screaming in the dark.
Bzzzzzz.
The digital audio recorder sputtered on the wooden crate, snapping Y/N out of the memory. The baseline on the EMF reader stayed firmly at green, but the air was getting colder. Arctic cold.
"She's not listening to the recorder," Yeonjun murmured, his voice dropping an octave. His face was pale, sweat slicking his forehead despite the sudden drop in temperature. "She wants a direct line."
He reached into his tactical backpack and pulled out something completely different. It wasn't a standard recorder. It was a ghost box—a modified radio designed to sweep through frequencies at lightning speed, creating a chaotic, non-stop barrier of white noise and fragmented radio static.
"Yeonjun," Y/N hissed through her teeth, her hand shaking so badly the beam of her flashlight danced erratically across the torn mattress. "What the fuck is that? Tell me you're not turning that on."
"It cycles through AM and FM bands," Yeonjun explained, his clinical, investigator-like demeanor holding up by a thread. He didn't look at her; his fingers were entirely focused on the dials. "It gives them raw audio energy to manipulate. If they want to speak, they use the fragments of the radio waves to form words. It’s... it can get intense."
"I am already intense! I am at a ten!"
Yeonjun ignored her and flipped the switch.
A harsh, aggressive wall of sound immediately filled the cramped, ruined room. Chhh-shhh-fuzz-chhh-krrr. The rapid-fire scanning of frequencies chopped up fragments of music, morning talk shows, and weather reports into an incomprehensible, jagged static.
Yeonjun cleared his throat, leaning over the device. "Lee Miyeon. We are here. We want to know the truth. Who did this to you?"
Chhh-shhh-fuzz-chhh-krrr.
Nothing. Just the manic, mindless cycling of radio stations.
"Lee Miyeon, can you hear me?" Yeonjun tried again, his voice tight. "Give us a sign. Was it Park Mingyu? What happened to Han Minseok?"
...and the weather for this weekend will be... krrr-shhh... buy two for the price of... chhh...
Minutes ticked by. Five minutes turned into ten. Yeonjun tried everything. He adjusted the sweeping speed. He switched from AM to FM. He asked direct questions, he asked open-ended questions, he pleaded, and he practically begged.
But there was absolutely nothing. No voice tore through the speaker. No words formed out of the static.
Even weirder, the EMF reader didn't spike. The baseline lights stayed a stubborn, healthy green. The temperature sensor didn't cascade into the negatives. The room was cold, yes, but it wasn't the violent, unnatural freeze of an active haunting. The air was completely, hollowly dead.
The ghost box just kept violently churning out white noise. Chhh-shhh-krrr.
Y/N stared at the electronics, her initial panic slowly morphing into a cold, heavy dread. "Yeonjun... this is honestly creepier."
"Why isn't she answering?" Yeonjun muttered, his brow furrowed in deep, frustrated thought. He tapped the side of the ghost box, but the radio frequencies just kept chopping up. "She always reacts. The second we get close to the truth, she loses her mind. Why is she completely silent now?"
"Maybe she's gone," Y/N whispered, looking around the dark corners of the room. "Maybe Park did something when he searched this place. Maybe he destroyed whatever was keeping her here."
Yeonjun let out a long, defeated sigh. The clinical investigator facade completely cracked, leaving him looking exhausted and deeply unsettled. He clicked the switch, killing the aggressive wall of static from the ghost box. The sudden silence that settled over the hidden room was suffocating.
"Nothing," Yeonjun said softly, shaking his head. "No response. No EMF. No cold spots. Nothing. Come on. Let's just leave. We're wasting our time, and Park could be back any second."
He began aggressively shoving his gear back into his tactical backpack, his fingers fumbling with the cables. Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She immediately turned toward the narrow gap in the drywall, desperate to get back into her own bedroom and far away from this claustrophobic tomb.
They took two steps toward the exit.
Skrrrrt.
The sharp, agonizingly slow sound of wood scraping against wood echoed through the silence.
Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned her flashlight beam back toward the broken nightstand in the corner.
A single, heavily damaged wooden drawer—one that had been crammed halfway into its tracks by Park’s frantic hands—was moving. There was no wind. There was no ghost speech. No disembodied scream or static voice on a radio.
The drawer simply slid open by itself. Inch by inch. Smooth, controlled, and completely silent, until it hit a natural stop.
Y/N's jaw dropped, her throat completely closing up with terror.
Yeonjun stood perfectly still, his eyes locked on the nightstand. He didn't pull out the ghost box again. He knew better. This wasn't an invitation to chat. It was a cold, silent command.
He tentatively stepped forward, his boots crunching on the torn paper littering the floor boards. He reached into the fully opened drawer. Beneath a false bottom that had been subtly pried loose—hidden in a cavity that Park's destructive, panicked hands had completely overlooked—lay a thick, leather-bound book. Resting directly on top of it was a modern brass key ring holding two master keys.
No explanation was given. No ghostly warnings echoed through the walls. Just the clue. Left in the dark for them to find.
Yeonjun pried the book and the keys from the hidden compartment. As his fingers closed around the ledger, the heavy, suffocating scent of floral perfume vanished instantly, leaving behind nothing but the stale smell of dust and old wood.
He looked back at Y/N, his face stark white, his eyes wide with a quiet, visceral terror.
Yeonjun shoved the heavy leather book into his backpack, his fingers fumbling as he forced the zipper shut over the protruding spine. Beside him, Y/N was already turning toward the jagged hole in the wall, her skin crawling, desperate to put distance between herself and the hollow silence of the hidden room.
"Let's go," she whispered, her voice tight with terror.
For once, Yeonjun didn't argue. He didn't check his EMF reader, and he didn't look back to see if the drawer had closed. He just nodded, his face pale and set in a grim line.
The two of them hurried back through the narrow gap and into the dim light of the bedroom. The apartment felt different now—charged, expectant, and heavy with the smell of stale copper.
The apartment was silent. Y/N barely made it halfway across the room toward the entryway before—
Click.
The sound was distinct, mechanical, and unforgiving. Both of them froze, their hearts hammering in unison against their ribs.
The sound came from the front door. A lock slowly turning.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. Y/N’s fingers curled into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.
Click.
Y/N felt her stomach drop into her shoes. It was the deadbolt. The same deadbolt Yeonjun had fussed over with such paranoid precision not an hour ago. Every security measure they had installed—every lock Yeonjun had meticulously turned—was being undone, one by one, with terrifying patience.
Click.
The heavy chain lock slid out of its groove.
Someone was outside, and they were entering with the cold, measured confidence of a landlord who owned every square inch of this building. Whoever was on the other side didn't need to break in. They were simply coming home.
The apartment seemed to hold its breath. The air grew stagnant, thick, and suffocating. Yeonjun’s hand instinctively tightened around the strap of his backpack, his knuckles turning white. Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears like a drumbeat, drowning out the ambient hum of the city outside.
Then, the front door opened. Not violently with a crash or a kick. It simply swung inward, cutting a wedge of light into the darkened hallway.
And standing in the doorway was Park Mingyu.
He was calm. He was composed. He looked almost polite, his hands neatly tucked into the pockets of his dark, heavy coat. He didn't look like a man who had been frantically tearing apart a secret room; he looked like a man who had just finished a long, productive day of work.
His gaze drifted slowly, deliberately, from Y/N to Yeonjun. He didn't look angry. He didn't look surprised. He just looked disappointed, his small, dark eyes eventually settling on the bulging, rectangular shape of the backpack slung over Yeonjun's shoulder.
For a long, agonizing moment, nobody spoke. The only sound was the distant, muffled siren of a police car somewhere out in the city—a sound that felt a lifetime away.
Then, Park sighed. It was a soft, fatherly sound, full of weary resignation.
"You should've listened to me," he said, his voice smooth and devoid of any jagged edges. He took a single, heavy step into the apartment, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "I told you, children... a drafty window would have been the least of your concerns."
For a heavy, breathless moment, nobody moved.
Park stood squarely in the narrow entry hallway, his massive, rigid frame completely bridging the gap between them and the open doorway. His expression remained entirely unreadable—a chilling, placid mask that didn't match the homicidal intent rolling off him in waves.
The apartment felt impossibly, suffocatingly small. Y/N could hear the frantic, rhythmic hammering of her own heartbeat knocking against her ribs. She could hear Yeonjun breathing beside her, his respirations shallow, ragged, and terrified. Beyond the open door, the distant, mundane hum of the building's hallway fluorescent lights buzzed softly, mocking the life-or-death standoff happening just inches away.
Then, Park took another step forward.
It wasn’t a fast movement. It wasn’t overtly threatening. It was just a slow, heavy thud of his leather boot against the floorboards. But it was just enough. Just enough to fill the remaining pocket of space and make it absolutely, terrifyingly clear that he had no intention of ever letting them walk out of this room alive.
"Give me the backpack," Park said. His raspy voice was entirely flat, devoid of any human emotion.
Yeonjun didn't step back. Instead, his knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white as his grip violently tightened around the canvas strap.
"No."
A sharp flicker of pure, unadulterated irritation crossed Park's face. The first crack in the grandfatherly mask. The muscles in his jaw rigidified into hard, dangerous lines, and his small, dark eyes narrowed into two hateful slits.
"Don't be foolish," Park murmured, his tone dropping into a tight, strained pitch.
Y/N's pulse spiked, a violent jolt of adrenaline flooding her system. The air in the room suddenly felt wrong. Dangerously, suffocatingly wrong. The faint, lingering scent of stale dust and old wood seemed to curdle in her throat.
"Yeonjun—" she started, her voice cracking with panic.
"Run."
She blinked, her vision blurring slightly as she stared at the side of his face. "What?"
"Run."
Before the word could fully leave his mouth, everything happened at once.
Yeonjun didn't look back. With a violent, desperate wrench of his arms, he ripped the tactical backpack off his shoulders and shoved it hard into Y/N's chest. Then, he launched himself forward. He wasn't thinking. He wasn't planning. He was operating on pure, terrified survival instinct, completely throwing his clinical, investigator-like demeanor out the window.
His shoulder slammed directly into Park's heavy chest with a sickening, hollow thud. It was a collision born of raw desperation, carrying enough momentum to drive the older, heavier man backward.
The violent impact sent all three of them stumbling in the cramped corridor. Park grunted, his boots skidding across the linoleum as he tried to keep his footing, his massive hands reaching out to claw at Yeonjun's jacket.
"GO!" Yeonjun roared, his voice cracking into a desperate, agonizing shriek as he grappled with the landlord, using his entire body weight to pin Park's arms and buy her time.
Y/N froze. For half a second, her brain completely short-circuited, her eyes darting between the open threshold of the door and Yeonjun’s struggling frame.
Then, she saw it.
The dim hallway light caught a sudden, wicked flash of metal. Something silver and heavy unfolded with a sharp, mechanical snick in Park's right hand. It wasn't just a pocket tool; it was a thick, industrial-grade army knife, the serrated edge glinting with a cold, utilitarian hunger.
Y/N’s blood turned to pure ice, the breath completely dying in her throat.
"YEONJUN!"
The blade cut through the dim light of the entry hallway, slicing a vicious arc in the air just inches from Yeonjun’s throat.
Yeonjun shrieked, twisting his torso with a violent, clumsy jerk that was the only reason the steel didn't open his jugular. Instead, the heavy blade caught him squarely across the upper arm.
Rip.
"Ah! Fuck!" Yeonjun screamed, a raw, agonized sound tearing from his chest. The serrated edge sliced cleanly through his heavy jacket and bit deep into the meat of his bicep. The sheer force of the blow slammed his back against the drywall with a hollow crack. His right hand instantly flew to his arm, but warm, dark blood was already rapidly pulsing through his fingers, soaking the fabric of his sleeve in a matter of seconds.
Y/N didn't think. Driven by a blind, hysterical surge of adrenaline, she lunged forward, gripped the canvas straps of the tactical backpack, and swung it like a wrecking ball.
It wasn't a heroic, choreographed move. It was clumsy, desperate, and fueled by pure panic. The thick leather ledger inside lent the bag a brutal, solid weight—heavy as hell—and when it connected, it caught Park squarely across the side of his face and shoulder with a sickening, heavy thud.
The landlord stumbled. He wasn't knocked out but he was stunned, his boots skidding through the splintered debris of the dining chair as he struggled to keep his balance. The heavy army knife wavered in his grip.
That one second was all they needed.
Yeonjun was gasping against the wall, his hand tightly clutching his sliced arm, dark blood rapidly leaking past his fingers. Y/N didn't freeze. She didn't ask if he was okay. She didn't scream his name. This was pure survival mode, her brain stripped down to a single, primal instinct.
She reached down, grabbed his good wrist with an iron grip, and yanked him forward.
"MOVE!" she roared.
They ran. They didn't even look toward the elevator. In a building owned by a murderer, a metal box was a death trap. Never the elevator. Y/N threw her weight against the heavy steel fire door, bursting into the concrete stairwell, and dragged Yeonjun through behind her.
And this was where the injury became a brutal, terrifying anchor.
Yeonjun was slowing down almost immediately. The adrenaline that had carried him through the tackle was fading fast, replaced by the jarring, white-hot shock of the slice. His boots dragged against the concrete steps. He was dizzy, his head rolling slightly as the blood loss started to sap the strength from his legs. He stumbled over a landing, his weight shifting heavily onto her. Y/N's lungs burned as she practically hoisted his tall frame, her fingers slipping slightly on his bloody sleeve as she dragged him down the flight.
Meanwhile, Park wasn't sprinting after them. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't a villain who was going to frantically chase them down twelve flights of stairs.
And that was infinitely scarier.
From several flights above them, the heavy steel fire door groaned open. Then came the footsteps.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Slow. Measured. Completely unhurried.
There was no shouting, no echoed threats, no frantic running. Just the steady, heavy cadence of his leather boots tracking them from above, echoing hollowly down the concrete well. Y/N kept casting a terrified glance back up through the gap in the banister as they hit another turn. There was nobody there.
Just another empty landing, another cold flight of stairs, and those relentless, creeping footsteps following them down into the dark.
Suddenly, Yeonjun let out a breathless, wet laugh. It was a sharp, hysterical sound, completely unprompted, his eyes wide and glassy as he stumbled over his own feet.
"I got stabbed," he wheezed, his voice sounding entirely delirious as he leaned heavily into her shoulder.
"You got slashed," Y/N hissed through her teeth, her muscles straining as she pulled him around another concrete corner.
"That doesn't make me feel better!"
"KEEP MOVING!"
The brief, familiar friction of their dynamic flared for a split second through the sheer panic, a desperate tether to reality while the heavy thud, thud, thud continued above them, getting closer with every turn.
Y/N’s knees were trembling, her breath catching in jagged sobs as they finally hit the ground floor. She threw her entire body weight against the heavy metal panic bar of the building's side exit.
The door flew open, and the two of them practically collapsed out into the street.
They weren't safe—not by a long shot—but they were outside. The sudden transition was a violent shock to the senses. The harsh, blinding glare of the afternoon sun hit Y/N's eyes, forcing her to blink through tears. The stagnant, haunted silence of the apartment building was instantly shattered by the mundane, beautiful chaos of the real world.
Cars honked.
People walked past on the sidewalk, holding shopping bags and coffees.
Neon storefront lights flickered in the haze. There were witnesses. There was life.
Y/N hit the pavement, her hands scraped against the rough concrete as she pulled Yeonjun down beside her against the exterior brick wall. He slumped sideways, his face ghostly pale, his hand still stained red against his ruined jacket, while the tactical backpack sat heavy and solid between them. They were bleeding, terrified, and breathless on a public sidewalk, but the sun was hitting their faces, and the street was alive around them.
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
previous warnings: cussing, reader being a dumbass, there are days between these screenshots
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
previous warnings: cussing
just got home from a party, so obviously the first thing i do at 3am is post the next part
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
mysterious stranger in my phone -how to pull an idol (a series)
idol!martin x reader
⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖When you let a random stranger rant for a whole ten minutes, you not only gain a new favorite band but also a devestating crush. ݁‧₊˚⋆ִֶָ
previous next warnings: cussing, meantion of martin being easy (may cause a triggering flashback to his fanservice)
(.◜◡◝) ❤︎ TELL ME, can 건호 get his girl when given the chance? with the help of crack profanity + younghocrew and youngcreatorcrew (idiots)
⤷ ✿ riri’s notes ! (˶˃⤙˂˶) keonho flirting successful? yes, but now his dream girl is suspecting him. will she discover who he is or will his identity continue to remain a mystery? i just happen to have a thing for flirty keonho (more in the future?)
001. 002. 003. 004. 005. 006. 007. 008. 009…
unemployedFinalbosses that are waiting for the fic (lose your job and sanity to apply) @ramenoil @julesheh @tateholic @i-kai @aftermoontea @w0narchy @cookeyy @amoressb @k-oimani1 @miuwoniz @liliikkuma @ririzrecs @eohyeons @yeppiz @unakbb @leaderwon @kristynaaah @seombaby @sunoomisu @jellywichu @akarireadss22 @09zpzkeonnss @cherishmoka @emotiandon @realseanshady @fshiwore @lovuimuse @nichozzystuffs @ivehan @coconhovr @meeoowchi @dandeliongraveyard @soulskiu @ykvdani @young2keu @chrmedbyjju @kienhawon @coergene @mikienreverie @liove-madl @finalgirlmars @soupysnoopy1 @lowkhyeon @cortismysunshines @reysblr @chocom0ka @ookkwegetit @hoszhe @delirioastral @ddolleri
ONLY AT J4EYXN, terms and condtions apply, like seriously ts one of a kind.
where you are suddenly attracted to a kpop idol in the new group cortis, you've never taken a liking into kpop so why all of a sudden? it all gets a bit weird when you meet a random person online and can't seem to stop texting them. is it fate or a random coincidence?
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you were probably mine.
0.14 - LA SOON
a/n: i’ve BEEEEN needing this out omfg so sorry yall yikes!! anyways i don’t think im gonna be gone any longer because yo girl tried becoming employed and they did not seem interested! 👀 i lowk cherisshhhhhhh my free time so thank god bro 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls enjoyyy!
(.◜◡◝) ❤︎ TELL ME, can 건호 get his girl when given the chance? with the help of crack profanity + younghocrew and youngcreatorcrew (idiots)
⤷ ✿ riri’s notes ! (˶˃⤙˂˶) keonho got his ball back (so he said?) well as his dream girl finds out some things about him his friends seem to believe that he doesn’t really stand a chance. will that change? wait for the next episode! on a serious note though this was really fun and you guys are going to hear a lot of that lol!!!!
unemployedFinalbosses that are waiting for the fic (lose your job and sanity to apply) @ramenoil @julesheh @tateholic @i-kai @aftermoontea @w0narchy @cookeyy @amoressb @k-oimani1 @miuwoniz @liliikkuma @ririzrecs @eohyeons @yeppiz @unakbb @leaderwon @kristynaaah @seombaby @sunoomisu @jellywichu @akarireadss22 @09zpzkeonnss @cherishmoka @emotiandon @realseanshady @fshiwore @lovuimuse @nichozzystuffs @ivehan @coconhovr @meeoowchi @dandeliongraveyard @soulskiu @ykvdani @young2keu @chrmedbyjju @kienhawon @coergene @mikienreverie @liove-madl @finalgirlmars @soupysnoopy1 @lowkhyeon @cortismysunshines @reysblr @chocom0ka @ookkwegetit @hoszhe @delirioastral @ddolleri
ONLY AT J4EYXN, terms and condtions apply, like seriously ts one of a kind.
