[soobinsoudesu]

welcome to liatopia !

navigation "まるで déjà vu, 君と僕は出会う運命なんだ "

about me ✶⋆.˚ lia 20 🇨🇳🇵🇭 she / her asia intj

masterlist — for txt

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ ongoing -> ghost girl | choi yeonjun x reader

permanent taglist flytomyro0m, nanilis, fairfootedflekk, swangyu, frostymatcha, starlami smau taglist monosung

alt acc @filmsforgyu — please do not reupload, copy, or translate any of my works!

[soobinsoudesu]

HELLOOO genuinely asking what app r u using to create SMAU??? thanku king!

hiiii, for apps I went through a lot of trial and error but these are the ones I found out works best for iOS and android:

twitter: TwiNote iMessage: MeMi Message instagram: PhotoNote

social dummy is also a great option but idk if the app is still running. hopefully the UI works alright for you since there are times it becomes glitchy for me.

but if you're up for it, you can also use Canva to manually edit/make the social media layout yourself!

[soobinsoudesu]

okay so I have an idea let me know if you guys fw it

a small-town summer romance series with txt, each fic is set in a small town but with a different tropes:

yeonjun — childhood rivals to lovers soobin — small-town book store/library beomgyu — small-town band taehyun — cousin's wedding kai — childhood friends reunited

I got inspired by kiss me by sixpence none the richer idk I thought it was cute. just lmk if you guys want it in replies :D

[soobinsoudesu]

guys im cooking, I feel like einstein rn 🤓

im so excited, I've been writing for hours straight omg I wanna spoil it so bad but you're just gonna have to wait.

my playlist played a big part in the contribution, maybe this is your sign to shuffle your songs while you brainstorm.

[soobinsoudesu]

Hi hi I was wondering if you could add me to your perm taglist bc everything you write is just yummy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

hi sally!!!

of course I can add you🤍 you're so sweet, it makes me so happy to hear that

[soobinsoudesu]

⋆˚࿔ lia's masterlistִ ⭑.ᐟ

" 紫陽花のような恋さ " — hydrangea love by tomorrow x together ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ here you'll find my works, have a look around.

๋࣭⭑ choi soobin anti-matchmaker (smau) | choi soobin x fem! reader // COMPLETED genre: enemies to lovers, college au, humor, angst, (kinda has a bit of a love triangle)

Summary: where y/n develops an unfortunate crush and the only person standing between her and her crush… is the guy she accidentally kissed at a party.

one more day | time traveler! choi soobin x fem! reader genre: angst, time traveling, fluff if you squint, major character death

Summary: Grief-stricken by the sudden death of his girlfriend, Choi Soobin uses a mystical silver pocket watch to rewind time and alter the tragic Tuesday morning she was stolen from him. However, across agonizing loops, his efforts to protect her are ruthlessly corrected by a universe determined to claim her life.

๋࣭⭑ choi yeonjun ghost girl (smau) | choi yeonjun x fem! reader // ONGOING genre: crack/humor, romcom, supernatural, mini-series

Summary: Y/N moves into a cheap apartment only to find out it’s haunted. Desperate, she tweets 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 beomgyu coming soon

๋࣭⭑ kang taehyun coming soon

๋࣭⭑ huening kai coming soon

back to navigation — please do not reupload, copy, or translate any of my works!

[soobinsoudesu]

Liaaaaaa ilysm you don't know how much those words regarding waltz of words meant to me 🥹🥹🥹

YUN ILY MORE and im literally telling the truth!! it has to be one of the best beomgyu fics out there💔

guys pls read waltz of words if you haven't, it changed my life

[soobinsoudesu]

same anon, but YES THAT IS THE SERIES ! thank you so much 🥹🙏🙏

happy to help you anon 🤍

[soobinsoudesu]

hi, i’m wondering if yk or could help me find a series that i’ve been looking for, but haven’t been able to find 🥲.. it’s uni au and i think it’s called the chois (or involves the chois), but it involves yeonjun, beomgyu, and soobin !

hi anon!!!!

if im not wrong (and I say this with full confidence) you're referring to "The Truce of the Chois" by beomiracles

hope you'll enjoy it, as much as I did🤍

[yawnzbf]

𐙚 daydreamin'— hyuka x gn! rea

you see him everyday like a ritual and on the days you don't, you sit by the library daydreaming abt him with your chin in the palm of your hand.

tw, lit none! js pure fluff, daydreamer reader, inspo is daydreamin' by queen ariana!! [0.9k] lisn to the song while reading!!!

the library was supposed to be your sanctuary.

quiet. predictable. yours.

that was before him.

you'd noticed kai the way you notice a song for the first time— gradually, then all at once. it started three weeks ago when he'd walked into the university library with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a slightly lost expression on his face, like he was new to the building but entirely comfortable in his own skin. he'd paused in the doorway, scanned the room, and then— inexplicably— smiled at nothing in particular, like the shelves of books had personally delighted him.

you'd looked back down at your notes and promptly forgotten every word you'd just highlighted.

now it was tuesday again.

kai tuesday, your brain had started calling it, which was embarrassing enough that you'd never said it out loud.

you were at your usual table by the tall windows, the afternoon light coming in gold and lazy across the pages of your textbook. you had a deadline. you had three chapters left to read. you had every intention of being productive.

then the door opened.

you didn't even have to look up. you just knew— some stupid, traitorous part of you had apparently memorized the particular rhythm of his footsteps, the way they were unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and was happy about it.

you looked up anyway.

kai was unwinding a light scarf from around his neck, cheeks flushed pink from the autumn air outside. his hair was slightly windswept. he was wearing that oversized cream-colored sweater again, the one with the small embroidered star near the collar that you absolutely had not noticed multiple times.

he found his usual spot— two tables diagonal from yours, just within comfortable peripheral vision, which your heart had decided was both wonderful and cruel— and dropped into the chair with a contented little exhale.

you put your chin in your hand.

your textbook stopped existing.

the thing about kai— the thing— was that he was so entirely, uncomplicatedly himself in a way that made your chest ache a little.

he laughed too loud for a library sometimes, then immediately covered his mouth with both hands, eyes wide with apologetic delight. he brought snacks in little containers and shared them with whoever was sitting near him without a second thought. once, you'd watched him spend ten full minutes helping a freshman find a book, leading her through the stacks with the focused energy of someone who had been personally appointed guardian of the dewey decimal system.

he hummed while he worked. quietly, almost under his breath, like he wasn't entirely aware he was doing it.

you were aware. you were devastatingly aware.

get it together, you told yourself, not for the first time. you've spoken to him twice. you don't even properly know him.

but that was the wild thing— it felt like you did. it felt like something about him was already familiar, like a word on the tip of your tongue, like a melody you couldn't quite place but knew you loved.

you were so deep in your very responsible daydream (you were, in this version, very cool and funny, and he was laughing at something you'd said, and there were warm drinks involved) that you didn't notice him stand up.

you didn't notice him walk over.

"hey."

you startled so hard your pen rolled off the table.

kai caught it.

of course he did.

he held it out to you, and when you looked up— properly up, right at him, close enough to notice that his eyes were warm and the flush on his cheeks hadn't fully faded— he was smiling. not a polite smile. a real one, a little crooked, like something about this moment genuinely pleased him.

"sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry at all. "you had this look on your face like you were somewhere very far away."

"i was reading," you said, with what you felt was remarkable composure given the circumstances.

he glanced at your textbook, then back at you. "it's upside down."

a pause.

"i learn better that way," you said.

he laughed— that real, unguarded laugh you'd catalogued from two tables away— and pulled out the chair across from you.

"i'm kai," he said, settling in like he'd always been there. "i've seen you here every tuesday. i keep meaning to say hi."

something warm and ridiculous unfurled in your chest.

"i've seen you too," you admitted, because apparently your mouth had decided honesty was the play. "the star on your sweater. I love it."

he looked down at it, delighted. "you pay attention."

"sometimes," you said, "to certain things"

the look he gave you then was soft around the edges, curious and pleased, like you'd said something worth thinking about. he leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table.

"tell me something," he said, like you'd known each other for years. "what were you actually thinking about just now?"

you looked at him— the windswept hair, the sweater, the smile, the easy warmth of him sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"nothing important," you said.

you were absolutely thinking about him.

he seemed to know it anyway.

his smile went a little softer, a little more certain, and he reached over and nudged your textbook right-side up.

"well," he said, "i'm here now. so you don't have to think about nothing."

outside, the autumn light went golden. inside, you forgot entirely about your deadline. which you didn't mind even a little bit.

[soobinsoudesu]

i adore this, its a light read but its beautifully written

[soobinsoudesu]

GHOST GIRL ☆⋆⭒˚.⋆ yeonjun smau

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: more under the cut. pls ignore any typos I was proofreading between my classes lmao also I hope it make sense bcs it makes sense to me. new chapter maybe around this weekend hopefully!!! anyway, pls enjoy :D

13. partially not a wuss

.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .

The automatic emergency room doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, letting in a sharp gust of air.

Y/N didn’t even look up to see who it was.

Her eyes were glued to the heavy double doors of the inner treatment area. A nurse had wheeled Yeonjun behind them nearly twenty minutes ago, and the silence since then was deafening.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of sitting frozen in a violently uncomfortable plastic chair. Twenty minutes of staring at the dark, stiffening blood smeared across her sleeves. Twenty minutes of replaying the flash of that utility knife over and over in her head—the cold metallic scrape, the sudden drop in her stomach, and the terrifying realization of what had just happened.

The automatic doors hissed open again, but this time, a loud, panicked voice instantly shattered the sterile quiet of the waiting room.

"WHERE IS HE?"

Several patients looked up from their phones in annoyance. Y/N just closed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the wall. That voice sounded incredibly familiar.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Beomgyu marching into the ER lobby, chest puffed out like he was personally preparing to fight every medical professional in the building. Taehyun followed a few paces behind, looking entirely too calm for someone whose friend had just been attacked.

"Beomgyu," Taehyun warned, his tone flat.

"What?"

"Use your inside voice. This is a hospital."

"My best friend got stabbed!" Beomgyu hissed, throwing his hands in the air.

"Slashed," Taehyun corrected automatically.

"THAT IS NOT BETTER!"

A security guard near the desk cleared his throat loudly, giving them a warning look. Taehyun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before his eyes scanned the room and finally landed on Y/N.

He froze. He took in the dark stains on her sleeves, her pale, exhausted expression, and the bulky, tactical ghost-hunting backpack resting against her chair. Recognition instantly clicked in his eyes.

"Y/N?"

She blinked up at them, her brain sluggish from the adrenaline crash. "Oh."

Right. The profile pictures. The chaotic group chats. These were Yeonjun’s friends.

"The famous Y/N," Beomgyu said, stopping right in front of her row of chairs.

Y/N stared up at him, utterly bewildered. "The what?"

"The girl responsible for approximately ninety percent of Yeonjun's recent psychological damage," Beomgyu clarified, crossing his arms.

"Beomgyu," Taehyun muttered, nudging his shoulder.

"What? Am I wrong?"

"Yes."

Beomgyu paused, squinting thoughtfully. "Only eighty percent?"

Before Y/N could even attempt to process the fact that Yeonjun talked about her enough to warrant a percentage scale, the ER entrance doors slid open for a third time.

This time, Y/N stood up so fast her knees buckled slightly. "Soobin?"

Soobin spotted her immediately. He didn't just walk—he practically power-walked across the linoleum lobby, his face a mask of pure terror.

"Y/N," he breathed. Before she could even say another word, his hands were on her shoulders. He was frantically checking her face, spinning her arms, and inspecting her hands. "Are you hurt? Did he get you? Where are you bleeding?"

"I'm fine, Soobin, really," she insisted, gently swatting his hands away. "It's not my blood."

"Are you sure?" he pressed, his eyes still wide.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You don't look fine."

"Thank you," Y/N muttered dryly. "I really feel the love."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Y/N!"

Kai’s voice cut in as he jogged up behind Soobin, breathing heavily. He didn't even care about his phone; his eyes instantly locked onto the dark stains on her sleeves. "Oh my god, are you okay? Soobin said there was a knife—are you hurt?!"

"I'm okay, Kai, I swear," Y/N said quickly, offering a reassuring smile to calm him down. "It’s Yeonjun's blood, not mine. He blocked the guy."

Kai let out a massive sigh of relief, pressing a hand to his chest. "Thank god. I was about to lose it on the highway."

As he stepped closer, his eyes scanned the waiting room and suddenly widened as they landed on the guy standing next to Beomgyu.

"Wait... Taehyun?" Kai blinked, the panic momentarily melting off his face.

Taehyun’s usually stoic expression cracked into a genuine, tired smile. "Hey, Kai. I figured I'd see you here."

"You two know each other, so you’re THE Kai?” Beomgyu asked, looking back and forth between them, temporarily distracted from his frantic pacing.

"Yeah, we went to college together," Taehyun explained, giving Kai a brief nod. "I'm the one Kai texted to get Yeonjun on the case."

"Man... I told Taehyun to send help before you got murdered by Victorian child spirits. I didn't think I had to worry about your actual landlord." Kai looked back at Y/N with a weak, stunned laugh

Y/N let out a miserable groan, burying her face in her hands. "Don't remind me."

"Seriously, Y/N," Kai added, gesturing to her outfit. "You look like you just narrowly escaped a true crime documentary."

The five of them had managed to commandeer an entire row of chairs near the vending machines. The rhythmic, dull hum of the drinks refrigerator was the only sound competing with Beomgyu’s aggressive, heavy pacing across the tiled floor.

"Can you please sit down?" Soobin finally snapped, rubbing his temples. "You’ve passed this exact chair fourteen times. You’re making me dizzy."

"I can’t sit," Beomgyu shot back, not even breaking his stride. "If I sit, I start thinking, and if I start thinking, I'm going to go insane. Why is the ER taking this long anyway? It’s a cut. You clean it, you stitch it, you leave."

"Slashed," Taehyun and Y/N said in unison.

"Whatever! The point is, it shouldn't take an hour," Beomgyu muttered, pivoting on his heel to walk the other way. "They're probably making him do paperwork. Yeonjun can't even read his own handwriting when he's calm, let alone when he's on painkillers."

"Beomgyu, you are literally blocking the path for the paramedics," Soobin said, his voice dropping into a warning, strained hiss. He pointed toward the double doors. "Sit down before a security guard forces you to."

Beomgyu stopped, throwing his hands up in defense. "I'm just standing! Why are you taking your stress out on me?"

"Because you are the loudest thing in a very quiet room!" Soobin leaned forward, his knuckles turning white where he gripped his own arms. "We are all stressed. Just... sit. Please."

Beomgyu stared at him for a second, let out a frustrated breath, and finally dropped heavily into the metal chair next to Soobin. "Fine. Happy?"

Soobin didn't answer, just closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall with an exhausted sigh.

Beside them Y/N sat perfectly still, though her right leg was bouncing at a frantic, violent speed. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Her shoes made a faint squeaking sound against the hospital floor. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that dark, narrow hallway of her Seoul apartment complex. She could still feel the sudden drop in her stomach when the landlord stepped out from the shadows, the dull gleam of the utility knife, and the heavy thud of Yeonjun’s body throwing itself in front of her.

A quiet hand suddenly extended into her line of sight, holding a cold, canned sweet coffee from the vending machine.

Y/N blinked, her leg finally stopping its restless motion. She looked up to see Taehyun watching her, his expression calm and observant as always.

"Drink this," Taehyun said gently, taking the seat next to her. "Your foot is about to drill a hole straight through the floor."

"Thanks," Y/N murmured, taking the cold can. Her hands were still shaking slightly, the dried blood on her sleeves tight against her skin. "I just... I can't stop thinking about it. If Yeonjun hadn't reacted so fast..."

"Yeonjun has terrible survival instincts, but his reflexes are surprisingly good when he's terrified," Taehyun reassured her, leaning back in his chair. He paused for a moment, his sharp eyes dropping to the heavy, tactical ghost-hunting backpack resting against Y/N’s ankles.

The bickering between Soobin and Beomgyu died down into a low, tense murmur as Taehyun leaned in closer. Kai shifted in his seat, turning his attention to them too.

"Hey," Taehyun said, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "While those two are busy losing their minds... what actually happened back there? Before the landlord cornered you guys? You and Yeonjun went back into the apartment to find something, didn't you?"

Y/N swallowed hard, the warmth of the coffee can doing nothing to ease the sudden chill in her chest.

"We went in because Yeonjun wanted to try speaking to her," Y/N whispered, her grip tightening on the aluminum can. "We set up all his equipment and just... waited. For a long time. But nothing happened. No sounds, no cold spots, nothing. She never spoke."

"So you gave up?" Kai asked.

"Yeah. We figured it was a bust, so we packed up the gear. But the exact second we turned around to walk out the door, the old desk behind us rattled. This hidden drawer just violently slammed open on its own."

Taehyun's eyebrows shot up. "The drawer?"

Y/N nodded slowly. "There was an old, locked ledger inside….we’re not exactly sure what’s in it but Yeonjun panicked, grabbed it, and threw it into the backpack. But the second we stepped out into the hallway to run, the landlord was already waiting for us in the dark. It was like he knew exactly what we had just found."

Taehyun stared at the tactical backpack, his jaw setting into a hard line. "A ledger. If the landlord was waiting in the dark for you to pull that out, he’s not just a creep. He’s hiding a paper trail."

"A paper trail for what?" Kai whispered, looking between them. "Do you think it has something to do with Miyeon and Minseok?”

"It has to," Y/N said, her voice barely audible over the sterile hum of the ER. She unclipped the top flap of the backpack, exposing the edge of the weathered, leather-bound book. "The ghost literally wouldn't let us leave without it. But we didn't even get a chance to open it before—"

"Family for Choi Yeonjun?"

The sudden voice cut through the corner of the waiting room. All five of them snapped their heads up as a tired-looking doctor in pale green scrubs stepped out from the double doors, looking over a clipboard.

Soobin and Beomgyu practically launched themselves out of their chairs at the same time, momentarily forgetting their mutual irritation.

"Is he alive?" Beomgyu demanded, rushing the doctor.

"Did he lose a leg?" Kai asked, scrambling up behind him.

The doctor blinked, taken aback by the sudden wall of chaotic young adults descending upon him. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the clipboard, then back up at the group. "Are you... all his family?"

"I'm his emergency contact," Taehyun said, stepping forward with his usual unshakeable composure, effectively blocking Beomgyu before he could say something to offend the doctor. "How is he?"

"He's perfectly fine," the doctor sighed, though a faint look of profound mental exhaustion crossed his face. "The laceration on his left forearm was clean but deep. It required twelve stitches. We've cleaned the wound and administered a local anesthetic.”

Y/N let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding.

"Physically, he will make a full recovery," the doctor continued, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “He also requested a wheelchair because he felt like he couldn’t walk.” 

Soobin slowly turned his head to look at Beomgyu. "Your friend is a menace to society."

"Hey, he's traumatized!" Beomgyu defended, though he looked entirely ready to go back there and drag Yeonjun out by his ankles. "Can we see him?"

“Room 553,” the doctor said, gesturing toward the heavy double doors. 

The five of them practically marched down the hallway in a tight, anxious formation. The sterile white tiles of the hospital wing hummed under the harsh fluorescent lighting, a stark contrast to the dark, suffocating corridor of Y/N’s apartment building.

When they reached Room 553, Beomgyu didn't even bother knocking. He swing the door open with enough force to rattle the plastic nameplate on the frame.

"Choi Yeonjun!" Beomgyu bellowed.

The sight inside the room instantly halted the group’s collective panic.

Yeonjun was propped up on the adjustable hospital bed, looking remarkably pale but still entirely himself. His left arm was wrapped in a thick, pristine white layer of gauze from his wrist to his elbow. He was slumped back against three pillows, his right hand weakly resting over his forehead as if he were a tragic protagonist.

A nurse was just adjusting his IV stand, looking like she had aged ten years in the span of an hour.

"Ah," Yeonjun rasped, his voice a frail whisper. He didn't drop his hand from his forehead, merely shifting his eyes toward the door. "You’ve come to witness my final hours."

"You got twelve stitches, you idiot, not a lethal injection," Beomgyu sighed, marching right up to the bed.

Taehyun followed, leaning against the guardrail with his usual unshakeable composure. "The doctor said you demanded a wheelchair."

"My legs felt compromised by the sheer adrenaline crash," Yeonjun sniffed, finally dropping his hand from his forehead to pout. Then, his eyes traveled past his friends, landing on the two tall guys standing awkwardly near the door with Y/N.

Yeonjun blinked, his dramatic demeanor faltering for a second. "Uh. Who are...?"

"Oh, right," Y/N stepped forward, gesturing to her friends. "Yeonjun, this is Soobin and Kai. My friends.”

"Ah!" Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he connected the dots. He looked at Soobin, then shifted his gaze to Kai. "The Kai? The one from college who texted Taehyun about Y/n’s apartment?”

"The very same," Kai said, offering a weak, slightly apologetic wave. "Nice to finally meet you. Sorry it's under... true crime circumstances. Thanks for not letting Y/N get stabbed."

"Slashed," Taehyun and Y/N corrected at the exact same time.

Soobin stepped up next to Kai, crossing his arms as he looked at the massive bandage on Yeonjun's arm. "Seriously, thank you. From everything Y/N told me, I thought you were just a guy who got easily spooked by creaking floors. I didn't expect you to take a hit from a psycho landlord."

Yeonjun’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he quickly looked down at his arm, clearing his throat to regain his dignity. "Well... as a certified professional paranormal investigator, it is my duty to handle all threats. Supernatural, physical... a knife is basically just a very sharp ghost if you think about it."

"That makes zero sense," Soobin muttered, looking blankly at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu sighed. "Get used to it. He's always like this."

The lighthearted air in the room faded quickly as Kai shut the heavy hospital door completely behind them, leaning against it. "The doctor said the landlord is still missing. The police went to the building, but he cleared out before they arrived."

Y/N gripped the strap of the tactical backpack tightly.

“You can't go back there," Soobin said firmly, looking at Y/N. "You're staying at my place tonight. We'll figure out how to get your stuff later with a police escort."

"Agreed," Taehyun said, his sharp eyes darting down to the heavy backpack resting against Y/N’s legs. He looked at Yeonjun. "But before we put any of this to rest... Y/N told us what happened before the attack."

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, his posture instantly straightening up in the hospital bed. "The ledger, do you still have it?"

Y/N stepped forward, unzipping the main compartment of the heavy tactical bag. She pulled out the thick, weathered, leather-bound book. The leather was cracked with age, and a tarnished metal latch held it firmly shut, secured by a small, rusted padlock.

“Yeah, still have it," Y/N whispered, setting it carefully on the edge of Yeonjun’s hospital bed.

Kai leaned over the foot of the bed, staring at it. "So the ghost violently opened a hidden drawer to give you that, and then the landlord tried to literally silence you guys over it?"

"It’s a paper trail," Taehyun muttered, stepping closer and examining the heavy rusted lock. "Whatever is inside this ledger is the reason for all of this, Y/N. And it's the reason a ghost is trapped there."

Yeonjun reached out his uninjured right hand, his fingers brushing the dusty leather cover. A small shudder went down his spine, his internal ghost-radar instantly spiking. "The lock is old, but it's sturdy. We need something to pry it open."

Beomgyu reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a heavy, solid metal pen he always carried for sketching. "Step aside. Let a real man handle the manual labor."

"Don't break my hospital table!" Yeonjun warned, wincing as Beomgyu jammed the metal tip of the pen into the gap of the rusted padlock.

Soobin watched the door nervously, while Kai and Y/N leaned in closer, holding their breath. With a sharp, metallic SNAP, the rusted lock gave way, dropping onto the white hospital sheets.

Taehyun reached down, flicking the metal latch open. He turned the heavy, leather-bound cover, and the first few yellowed pages of the ledger fluttered open.

The room went dead silent. It wasn’t a landlord's tenant log at all.

The very first page was covered completely in elegant, sweeping cursive—Miyeon’s handwriting. Tucked neatly between the brittle sheets were old, candid photographs from forty years ago: polaroids of a younger Miyeon smiling warmly, standing close to a handsome man who was definitively not the landlord.

"That's Minseok," Y/N whispered, her blood running cold as she looked at the photos.

"Look at what she wrote," Taehyun murmured, his sharp eyes scanning the text beneath the pictures. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a tense, steady rhythm as he read her private journal entry aloud.

"‘Minseok says we can leave by the end of the month. He found an apartment for us in Incheon. My husband suspects nothing. I just need to hold on for a few more days until we can disappear together.’"

Y/N’s breath hitched as Taehyun flipped to the very next page. The elegant cursive suddenly became erratic, slashed violently into the paper in frantic, shaking lines.

"‘Minseok is gone,’" Taehyun read, the words hanging heavily in the sterile hospital room. "‘My husband came home with blood on his collar. He smiled at me and he told me Minseok 'left town'."

"Oh my god," Kai breathed, his face losing all color as he gripped the footboard of Yeonjun's bed. "It was an affair. Her husband caught them and killed Minseok out of pure, obsessive jealousy."

"But look at the next entry," Soobin pointed out, his finger trembling slightly as he gestured to the bottom of the page. "Look at what her husband did to her after."

Taehyun read further down, where Miyeon had documented the psychological torture she was forced to endure.

"‘He showed me Minseok's ring today,’" Taehyun read, a heavy chill settling over the room. "‘He looked me in the eyes and told me that if I ever speak to the police, if I ever try to leave this apartment, I’ll end up exactly like him—buried right under the floorboards. He thinks he can keep me trapped here. He thinks using Minseok's death as a threat will make me behave.’"

The handwriting at the very bottom of the page shifted from terrified to pure, unfiltered rage. The elegant cursive grew massive, digging so deeply into the parchment that the pen had nearly torn through the paper.

"‘Let him try,’" Taehyun read, a slight chill touching his own voice. "‘If he touches me, I will tear this entire building down around his throat. I will never leave this place until I see him rot for what he did to Minseok.’"

The journal entries abruptly cut off there, the remaining pages left hauntingly blank.

"It's not a rent book," Beomgyu whispered "It’s her diary. The bastard thought he could silence her and keep her trapped in life by using her lover's murder as a threat, but he had no idea how much she hated him."

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he stared at the ledger resting on his hospital sheets, his internal paranormal radar practically redlining. "The ghost... Miyeon is an angry ghost because she was trapped in that building by fear and fury until the day she died. She didn't give us this book to beg for help, Y/N. She gave us her diary because it names him as Minseok's killer. She's been waiting years for someone to find her words so she can finally drag her husband down to hell."

Y/N sat back, the puzzle pieces spinning frantically in her mind before finally locking into place. "Wait..." she started, her eyes widening as she looked up at Yeonjun. "If Miyeon is the one who aggressively shoved this ledger into our hands because she wanted us to find the truth... what about the other spirit? Remember back when we first started? When we heard that angry voice telling us to get out?"

Kai leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Yeah, you guys said a voice literally screamed at you to leave the apartment immediately."

"We thought it was a hostile threat from the same entity," Y/N whispered, a sudden chill running down her spine as the realization hit her. "We thought the ghost was trying to scare us away because she hated us. But it wasn't Miyeon screaming at us to get out. It was Minseok."

Yeonjun’s breath hitched in his throat. "Minseok..."

"Think about it," Y/N insisted, her voice trembling as she looked at the dark blood still stained on her sleeves. "Miyeon is furious. She's been trapped in that room raging, pulling out all the stops, and using us to finally expose her husband's crime. She wanted us to stay and find the book. But Minseok... he wasn't trying to scare us. He was trying to warn us. He knew exactly what the landlord was capable of. He knew that if we kept digging and poking around that apartment, the landlord would notice and kill us too. Minseok was screaming at us to get out because he didn't want us to end up dead, just like him."

"As thrilling as this little amateur detective hour is, how are we planning to lock Park Mingyu up when he’s currently out there playing the world's worst game of hide-and-seek?" Beomgyu said, crossing his arms and leaning back into the uncomfortable hospital chair.

.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .

masterlist

taglist: (send an ask or reply to be added ! ) @flytomyro0m @nanilis @im-down-forgyu553 @cinnamorollhyuka @fairfootedflekk @igotbeomgyupregnant @yutanistic @blueastheoceanlove @twinklefairyland @moavill97 @starlami @thebeautifulbookworm @sunnystyles @woonchip @kali-uchis4life @swo07sh @tubatuxx @sleepystar0304 @mkissed @littlemoasoobin @namin13 @secretar22 @tobiofy @kiraaa143 @monosung @beomgyusblondehair @overtheggum @candyflossgum @bakudon @tubatuwariwar1 @wonniiz @urmotherlvr @yamsinthetaso @hueningaholic @jellyybelly @jazzy-304 @mikienreverie @ariieeesworld @beaabz @ohmymelon @futuristicterrorschism @taysfairies @cherryhazy

[soobinsoudesu]

uhm so when are you posting the next part..

I haven't written it in the social media format (along with the remaining chapters) so its still in docs form 🤓

I might be able to publish it later tonight or tomorrow!

[soobinsoudesu]

the idea is so good! i will definitely be waiting for the fic after ghost girl ends

yayyyyyyy!! I’ll start drafting the storylines for it this week, definitely keep your eye out for the master list soon

[soobinsoudesu]

okay so I have an idea let me know if you guys fw it

a small-town summer romance series with txt, each fic is set in a small town but with a different tropes:

yeonjun — childhood rivals to lovers soobin — small-town book store/library beomgyu — small-town band taehyun — cousin's wedding kai — childhood friends reunited

I got inspired by kiss me by sixpence none the richer idk I thought it was cute. just lmk if you guys want it in replies :D

[soobinsoudesu]

GHOST GIRL ☆⋆⭒˚.⋆ yeonjun smau

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.

.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .

masterlist

taglist: (send an ask or reply to be added ! ) @flytomyro0m @nanilis @im-down-forgyu553 @cinnamorollhyuka @fairfootedflekk @igotbeomgyupregnant @yutanistic @blueastheoceanlove @twinklefairyland @moavill97 @starlami @thebeautifulbookworm @sunnystyles @woonchip @kali-uchis4life @swo07sh @tubatuxx @sleepystar0304 @mkissed @littlemoasoobin @namin13 @secretar22 @tobiofy @kiraaa143 @monosung @beomgyusblondehair @overtheggum @candyflossgum @bakudon @tubatuwariwar1 @wonniiz @urmotherlvr @yamsinthetaso @hueningaholic @jellyybelly @jazzy-304 @mikienreverie @ariieeesworld @beaabz @ohmymelon @futuristicterrorschism @taysfairies @cherryhazy

[soobinsoudesu]

NEXT CHAPTER ASAP PLSPLSPLS

very very 🔜

[soobinsoudesu]

GHOST GIRL ☆⋆⭒˚.⋆ yeonjun smau

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: I've rewritten this way too many times, this probably was the most frustrating chapter to write lmaoooo sorry if its bad

11. a suspicious landlord

.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .

"Hey, I'm gonna head to the back room for my fifteen," Y/N's coworker called out, wiping her hands on her apron as she retreated. "You good out here by yourself for a bit?"

Y/N managed a quick nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, go ahead. I've got it." As the back door clicked shut behind her, the sudden silence in the shop felt deafening.

Y/N kept her eyes glued to the espresso machine, her fingers trembling as she wiped down the steam wand for the fourth time in a row. She could feel the heavy, oppressive weight of a gaze boring into the side of her face.

Where the fuck is Yeonjun?

"Excuse me."

The voice was raspy, dry, and entirely too close.

Y/N flinched, the rag slipping from her hand onto the counter. She forced her lips into a rigid, customer-service smile and turned around.

Park Mingyu was standing right at the register. Up close, he smelled faintly of mothballs and stale cigarettes. His skin was mapped with deep, weathered wrinkles, but his eyes were sharp—unnaturally sharp—as they locked onto hers. He wasn't looking at her like a landlord checking in on a tenant. He was looking at her like he was trying to read her mind.

"Mr. Park," Y/N managed to say, her voice pitching an octave higher than normal. "Hi. Um. Can I get you started with a coffee or a pastry?”

"You left your bedroom window open for two days already,” he said flatly. He didn't order. He didn't even look at the menu. "A draft can ruin the molding in those old units. I had to use my master key to go in and close it for you."

A cold, greasy dread slid down Y/N’s spine. He was in the apartment. "Oh," she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Right. Sorry. I was in a rush for my shift."

"I noticed you moved the bed," Mr. Park continued. He leaned against the counter, his knuckles white and bony. His face didn't move, but his eyes narrowed to slits. "And the mattress. It was pulled away from the wall. Quite a bit of dust behind there."

Y/N’s breath completely hitched. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard her fingernails turned white. The mattress. He looked behind the mattress. "I like to... sweep under there," she lied, her voice shaking so violently she was certain he could hear it. "For... dust mites. Big fan of cleanliness."

Mr. Park didn't blink. He leaned in closer, the thin, mocking veneer completely dropping from his face. His eyes drilled straight into hers, dark and venomous, as his voice dropped to a harsh, predatory whisper.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N. I know you found the hidden room."

The blood completely drained from Y/N's face. Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth.

"I saw the wallpaper torn back," the old man continued, his raspy growl vibrating with a terrifying, quite animosity. "I saw the markings on the wall. You think you're playing a game, poking around in spaces that don't belong to you."

Before Y/N could even form a single syllable to defend herself, Mr. Park reached across the counter. His dry, rough fingers suddenly snapped around her wrist in a tight, suffocating vice grip.

"Listen to me very carefully," he hissed, his face inches from hers. His breath was hot and sour. "If either of you breathes a single word about what's behind that wall, a drafty window will be the least of your concerns. People disappear from old buildings all the time, Y/N. Do you understand me?"

Y/N was completely paralyzed. Her wrist throbbed under his grip, and she couldn't breathe, her eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror as she realized she was trapped behind the counter with a literal murderer.

The bells above the café door jingled, the sharp, cheerful metallic chime cutting through the suffocating silence of the shop like a physical blade. It was a mundane, completely ordinary sound, yet in that moment, it felt like the sky cracking open.

"Sorry I'm late."

The voice cut through the heavy, stagnant air. Relief hit Y/N so hard her knees nearly gave out, a sudden rush of blood and warmth flooding back into her frozen limbs as the absolute paralysis holding her captive shattered. Because of her text, he knew exactly why he needed to be here, and he had made it.

Yeonjun walked inside. He looked completely normal, one hand casually adjusting the canvas strap of his backpack, a faint, familiar scuff on his sneakers. He carried himself with the easy, rhythmic stride of someone just arriving for a normal shift, masking the absolute urgency that had driven him to the café the second her text hit his phone.

Then he spotted the landlord.

His expression didn't change. Not even slightly. The easygoing slouch of his shoulders remained entirely intact, and not a single muscle in his jaw clenched, but a sudden, sharp intensity settled deep into his eyes—a cold, calculating focus that entirely replaced his usual casual demeanor. He had read her warning, he knew Park Mingyu was dangerous, and he was instantly mapping out his strategy.

"Mr. Park."

The old man's eyes narrowed into tight, venomous slits. His dry, rough fingers tightened on Y/N's wrist for one final, agonizing second—a silent, bruising reminder of the threat he had just leveled against her—before he slowly, deliberately let go, dragging his hand back across the counter.

"Yeonjun."

The landlord’s voice was like grinding stones. A beat passed. The air between the three of them was thick with an unspoken, heavy tension, the silence stretching out between them like a tight rubber band ready to snap at the slightest movement. Y/N could hear the faint, rapid thrumming of her own pulse echoing in her ears.

Then Yeonjun smiled.

It was bright. Friendly. Completely, fake. 

It was the polished, practiced mask of a strategic actor, a brilliant shield pulled up in a fraction of a second to completely disarm the hostile atmosphere Mr. Park had built.

He couldn't let on that they knew about the hidden room; he had to play the role of the cool, unbothered bystander perfectly.

"Didn't know you were here."

"I was just speaking with Y/N." Mr. Park’s voice was entirely flat, his gaze unblinking.

“Ah… Everything alright?" Yeonjun asks.

Mr. Park’s gaze flicked slowly from Y/N to Yeonjun, his features completely unreadable, though the muscles in his jaw rigidified. "Perfectly fine," the landlord lied, his raspy voice dropping into a tight, strained pitch that completely contradicted his words. 

"Just discussing the responsibilities of maintaining the property." He took a slow, deliberate step back from the register, his heavy boots thudding dully against the floorboards as he pocketed his hands. "I shall take my leave now. Good day.”

Without waiting for a response, the old man turned around, his rigid posture radiating a cold, hostile aura as he marched past the empty tables and shoved his way out into the afternoon air. The bells above the café door jingled cheerfully behind him, mocking the heavy silence he left in his wake.

The moment the glass door swung shut, the invisible vice grip holding Y/N together completely shattered. Her knees buckled under her weight, and she had to violently grab the metal edge of the espresso machine just to keep herself upright.

"Y/N," Yeonjun dropped his casual stride in an instant, vaulted straight past the counter partition, and was by her side before she could even process his movement.

His face was pale, his earlier fake smile completely gone, replaced by a raw, frantic panic. "Hey, hey, look at me. Are you okay? What did he do to you?"

"He was in the apartment, Yeonjun," she choked out, her voice barely a cracked whisper as she stared down at her trembling hands. "He used his master key. He found out we pulled the mattress away from the wall. He... he knows we found the hidden room."

Yeonjun’s breath hitched sharply, his eyes widening in pure horror as the full weight of her words landed. His hand automatically went to her arm, his fingers brushing against her skin—right over the spot where the landlord’s bruising grip had just been. Y/N winced slightly, and Yeonjun instantly noticed, his gaze dropping to her wrist, where faint, red finger marks were already beginning to bloom against her skin.

A sudden, fierce emotion flared in Yeonjun's eyes, a dark, dangerous shift that completely wiped away his usual theatrical cowardice. "Did he touch you?" he asked, his voice dropping into an incredibly low, quiet register that Y/N had never heard from him before. "Did that motherfucker hit you?"

"No, he just... he gripped my wrist," Y/N whispered, her eyes wide as she relived the threat. "He told me that if either of us breathes a single word about what’s behind that wall... he said people disappear from old buildings all the time."

A heavy, suffocating silence dropped over the back of the café. Yeonjun stared at her wrist, his knuckles turning entirely white as he clenched his fists, his chest heaving as he forced himself to breathe through a wall of pure rage.

"We're going back to Woori Villa," Yeonjun interrupted, his voice dropping into a harsh, tight whisper.

Y/N froze, staring at him like he had entirely lost his mind. "Are you insane? Did you not just hear a single word I said? He literally just threatened to make me disappear if we go mess with this whole thing! He's a literal murderer and he's going to kill us to keep it a secret!"

"Not if we find out exactly what happened first," Yeonjun argued, his jaw clenching. "I think Miyeon trying to expose him. She is the only witness we have... dead witness at least. Look it's a shot in the dark, I don't know what's her intention but I'm willing to risk it."

Y/N stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was the guy who, just days ago, was shrieking at a flickering light bulb and hiding behind her. Now, he was willingly proposing they march straight back into a crime scene.

"You... you want to go back there? To talk to her?" Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "Yeonjun, you're terrified of ghosts."

"I am," Yeonjun admitted without a shred of hesitation, a raw, honest flicker of fear passing through his eyes before it was instantly replaced by an unyielding grit. "I am completely, terrified of whatever is lurking in that apartment. But right now? I am a hell of a lot more terrified of what that living, breathing psycho will do to you if we don't get the leverage we need to lock him away for good."

He let go of her shoulders and reached down, taking her hand in his. His grip was steady, warm, and entirely grounding.

"We go back, we get into that hidden room, and talk to the ghost," Yeonjun said, his voice dropping into a determined, quiet register. "We get the truth, we find the evidence, and we blow this whole thing wide open before Park Mingyu can even think about touching you again. Are you with me?"

.⋆ 𖥔 ݁ ˖₊‧.⭒.‧₊˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ .

masterlist

taglist: (send an ask or reply to be added ! ) @flytomyro0m @nanilis @im-down-forgyu553 @cinnamorollhyuka @fairfootedflekk @igotbeomgyupregnant @yutanistic @blueastheoceanlove @twinklefairyland @moavill97 @starlami @thebeautifulbookworm @sunnystyles @woonchip @kali-uchis4life @swo07sh @tubatuxx @sleepystar0304 @mkissed @littlemoasoobin @namin13 @secretar22 @tobiofy @kiraaa143 @monosung @beomgyusblondehair @overtheggum @candyflossgum @bakudon @tubatuwariwar1 @wonniiz @urmotherlvr @yamsinthetaso @hueningaholic @jellyybelly @jazzy-304 @mikienreverie @ariieeesworld @beaabz @ohmymelon @futuristicterrorschism

[csbenthusiast]

Taehyun accidentally confessing

Taehyun x fem!reader; mentions of drugs (hospital drugs!); he has a sprained toe; I think that’s it! asides from that, I just try to be funny all the time

Soobin’s ver. Kai’s ver. Gyu’s ver. Jun’s ver.

masterlist

I think I am pretty funny actually

[soobinsoudesu]

this is so cute, I can actually see taehyun doing this