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no-144444 · 3 months ago

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guilt tripping- o.piastri

summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader

a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹

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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse.

“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered.

“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you.

“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise.

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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel.

“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off.

“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning.

“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?”

Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear.

When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave.

“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry?

“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”

“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head.

“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed.

You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his.

“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”

After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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vrystalius · 3 months ago

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hi vry!!! i hope you’re doing well and feeling better🫶🫶 i wanted to pretty please request a lil something for sanemi taking care of his partner while they’re sick? 😩 i fell incredibly ill last night for no good reason LMAO and i know you’ve been under the weather too so hopefully this is right up your alley. also no pressure, please take your time and take care!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Aggressive healing

You returned home sick after a gruelling mission that took you all the way up to a cold mountain. Sanemi now resulted to becoming a doting (and a little pissy) husband.

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!reader

You were tucked into your marital bed, multiple stacks of blankets, probably all you and your husband own, spread over your body to keep you warm. A damp, cool towel was placed on your head and replaced by a fresh one by the hour and a bowl strategically placed right next to you on the mattress, just in case you get sick and don’t make it to the bathroom. A large glass of water with a straw was placed right next to a lukewarm cup of herbal tea you didn’t drink. You were just about to mumble a quiet thank you for the glass of water before Sanemi made you shut your mouth as quickly as you opened it.

“You still haven’t drank the damn tea? You know that I’m keep brewing this shit up for you and not for myself, right??”

While he was scolding you, his hands were angrily tucking you tighter into bed, trying to be gentle while doing so. You pouted at him.

“I don’t like it, tastes disgusting. It makes me even more nauseous.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes slightly and moved the straw from the glas of water to the cup of tea in case you wanted to drink it anyway. To be honest, it was making him a little anxious how you were resisting his treatment. You didn’t want to take any pills Shinobu prescribed, the tea was yucky, you were too hot beneath the blankets, too cold when a single one is removed, you still forgot to drink normal amounts of water and barely ate anything nutritious without him dishing up something for you. It’s like you want to stay sick on purpose!

He sighed while he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at your form being tucked in so tightly. You shifted your position a little, glancing back at him.

“Why do you refuse my treatment, huh? Just let me do my duties as your doting husband.”

“I can take care of myself! My doting husband can go back to his hashira duties instead.”

The wind hashira rolled his eyes at that again with a groan, running his fingers through his white hair that is now probably turning grey from your current condition alone. He snatched the damp towel from your forehead without a warning and gently slapped your cheek with it in timing with every word he said.

“Stop. Being. Stubborn. with. ME!”

Groaning, he headed to the bathroom to wet the towel again before ungracefully slapping it back onto your forehead. You let out a whine.

“I’m not gonna be gentle and kind no more. I’m nursing you back to health even if I have to force the damn medicine down your throat.”

Sanemi leaned over you, staring down at you with big eyes, making you cower beneath the multiple layers of soft blankets. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before messing up your hair a little with an annoyed sigh.

“I’m making you a soup. Don’t care if you don’t like it, you’ll eat every single bite. It’ll be good for you. I’ll even make you a warm bath after.”

💠

I hope this was to your liking, I rewrote this twice because I had three different ideas on what to do or l write 😭 I settled on the aggressive-caring-Sanemi, sorry if this is a little short! :,) And also thank you for your request!! I hope you’re doing better now and/or get better soon! <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves, physically and mentally!!

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anthonys237thfreckle · 7 months ago

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i need need need headcanons for anthony with a gf who’s like got a career in STEM and she’s super smart and as an actor he’s amazed by her lmao.

this is so cute! thanks anon

I’m looking for a woman in STEM - Anthony Ramos x F! Reader

prompt: headcanons for Anthony who’s girlfriend is in STEM - i’ve picked biomed for a degree since my mom wanted me to do biomed in high school

TW: mentions of academic stress and panic attacks, mention of drugs used in medicine, mention of mental illness

🔬 when you both first met, and he first asked for where you graduated from, let me tell you - mans did NOT expect you to say ‘Cambridge’

🔬 ‘Oh, so like Cambridge College in Massachusetts?’

🔬 This man omg

🔬 When you said ‘No, England’ he felt goosebumps cause like ‘geez louise CAMBRIDGE?’ and when you casually said you did biomed he was like ‘wait what-’

🔬 ‘Me? Oh, I did Musical Theatre’ he says matter of factly, and you’d add ‘Oh, I played piano when I was in elementary-’

🔬 You’d be the definition of a perfect golden child. He knows that couldn’t have been easy

🔬 When you two do start dating, he’s always bragging ‘Oh my girlfriend does lab research for this new supplement for this drug for schizophrenia in children-’ HE’S A PRO YAPPER. Especially in interviews.

🔬 He’s so proud of everything you’ve done - doing medicinal research at NYMC (New York Medical College)

🔬 Maybe in the winter as you two are baking (you always make sure the measurements are perfect, never letting him measure anything out lol) he always says baking is an ‘art’

🔬 ‘Actually babe, it’s chemistry’ you’d chuckle, taking a bite out of some gingerbread cookies, and ever since, he’s jokingly kept a lab coat and goggles and chides you for ‘not tying your hair in the lab’.

🔬 You’d tell him about how hard high school and college was for you, having to get a scholarship, going to British private schools because the medicine industry is mad competitive and honestly, you need to show something off in your application.

🔬 You’d tell him how even though you did Cambridge IGCSE and A level courses all throughout high school, it was no match for what England had in store for you - panic attacks became a weekly thing.

🔬 I mean, you did Pure Math, Biology, Chemistry and Psychology A and AS levels for gods sake - its an absolute mindfuck.

🔬 He’s always there to reassure her how smart she is and that she’s human no matter what - that college is over, and the drug trials will end up great, and a bunch of kids will get some damn good medication.

🔬 He LOVES it when you come watch his shows and movies. It means the absolute world to him.

🔬 Soon, he kind of drifted away from theatre after Hamilton, and started in film, and would always get super excited whenever he’d get some remotely science-y role.

🔬 Like in In Treatment, he’d come to you for help for some advice on his role, on some deeper level analysis (not as deep as an actual therapist guys, just a psych student level) and you’d be squealing with pride when you see him on TV.

🔬 And when he got into the more Sci-Fi movies like Transformers, he’d tell you ‘it’s not that deep, baby.’ whenever he’d catch your brows furrow in confusion at the misuse of a niche scientific term

🔬 He’d be so happy when he landed Twisters, even though you weren’t a meteorology student, your use of organic chemistry would def have some revelations when watching Kate use some form of polycarbonate.

🔬 ‘they’re right! they use silver iodide for cloud seeding!” you’d giggle.

🔬 affectionately calls you ‘nerd’ all the time.

— for anyone not british, igcse is from grades 9-10 and a levels are a bit like AP! but like they have a lot of depth. you’re not expected to do more than three.

#foryou #fyp #tumblr fyp #anthony ramos #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #hamilton musical #america #anthony fucking ramos #in the heights movie #in the heights #twisters #transformers #rise of the beasts #in treatment season 4 #anthony ramos x reader

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scrupulosity-comics · 2 years ago

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hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?

Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.

I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.

I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?

The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.

Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.

I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.

They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.

Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.

I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.

As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.

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yiichan · 4 months ago

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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 - 𝐈𝐦 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐡𝐚𝐧

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. wc. 2.2k. genre. parellel universe au, extra member au, angst.

warnings. major character death, depictions of mental illnesses (depression, self-harming etc.), mention of self-harming, slight OOC.

writers notes. just a reupload from @peachesyeo.

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist.

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

25 May, 2025

How would they feel if they found him dead?

Gyuhan stared blankly at the ever-bright ceiling of his bathroom. The rusty smell of blood mixed with the lemony air freshener filled his nose as he ignored the stinging pain from his slit wrist.

Happy. They would probably be happy. On the tenth year that they debuted, and on the tenth year Gyuhan has been the fourteenth member of Seventeen, he finally left this world that gave him nothing but empty hopes and broken promises.

I’m sorry , he thought to no one in particular. To whoever that will discover my dead body.

And that night, the Seventeen lost their fourteenth member, the forgotten member, Im Gyuhan.

02 February, 2015

When Gyuhan first entered the practice room, led by the manager, he was secretly intimidated by the thirteen boys running around the room. And when the fierce-looking teenager came up to them, Gyuhan couldn't help but take a step backwards.

His first impression of Choi Seungcheol was as a lion.

A fierce, roaring lion that frowned when the manager introduced him to them, as the newest member; A scrutinizing lion who scanned him up and down before exchanging greetings with him; A frustrated lion whose expression filled with annoyance once the manager left him alone in the room with them.

Gyuhan didn't know that his appearance to the boys was a sign that they would debut later. With Minghao as the promised last addition to the group, they were expecting to debut soon. But Gyuhan's existence broke their dream.

As Gyuhan stood alone with a frowning Seungcheol, a tall, long-haired teenager came forward. "My name is Yoon Jeonghan," he had said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What's yours?"

At this moment, Gyuhan thought everything would be okay, that the group would accept him. He quickly bowed, his hands piled nervously in front of him. "Hello! My name is Im Gyuhan, I'm born in May, 1996. Nice to meet you!" He said all of this very quickly, blushing as he met Jeonghan's eyes. Gyuhan had never met someone as pretty as Jeonghan before, and he would never imagine that Jeonghan would be one of the people who hurt him the most.

"Ah, Gyuhan-ssi." The angelic man's lips curled. "Nice to meet you, too."

24 May, 2023

"Here you go, Gyuhan-ssi. Remember to not say anything weird while you are on live."

"Of course not. Thank you." Gyuhan thanked the staff as she left, with the camera placed on the tripod, facing him. Gyuhan breathed in deeply, checking his reflection against the dark screen on the phone before pressing on the 'Live' button.

"Hello!" Gyuhan greeted, smiling widely as he waved to the camera. "How are our CARATs today?"

mingyuschick: what? it's gyuhan? dkkkkk1209: why is he still in the group lmao ighoutofsvt: get out of SVT! ot134ever: go to hell, Im Gyuhan!

Gyuhan's eyes raked over the comments quickly. His lungs tightened when he saw them, but he quickly reminded himself that he only had one chance per year to do a live, and he mustn't screw it up.

"Yep! Today is my birthday!" He told the phone, ignoring the many 'who asked' and 'get out of seventeen' comments. He reached over for the cake he had bought himself beforehand, moving it to the center of the screen. "Shall we have a chat today? And we'll blow the candles together once it reaches 12am." He muttered, sticking the candle into the plain vanilla cake. The staff had forgotten to buy him a cake again, so Gyuhan took it upon himself. The last time, they had bought a peach-flavored cake, sending Gyuhan into a fit of allergy once he logged off from his birthday live.

But no one except him and the staff knew.

hannieforlyfe: that's a really pathetic cakechannieworld: oppa! you only got 3 seconds of screen time for the maestro comeback! what do you think about that?lalalihhu: at this rate you should just leave seventeenjoshuji17: happy 27th birthday!ighoutofsvt: get out of SVT! couparang4ever: are you not showing your gifts this year again?

"This cake is not pathetic, it's just simple." Gyuhan explained, wagging his finger at the screen. He got up towards the fridge in the room and took out an icing bag. “I’ll decorate it on my own.”

ighoutofsvt: so extra for what? jeonghansvt: happy birthday, our fourteenth~ hannieforlyfe: it’s Jeonghan! joshuji17: hi jeonghan!

Gyuhan paused slightly at the words on the screen. Under the table, his hands curled into a fist but his lips curled into a smile. “Thank you, Jeonghan hyung.”

jeonghansvt: the others and i are out at a bbq~ jeonghansvt: we’re sorry that you couldn’t join us because of the live~ jeonghansvt: enjoy your live~ i’m out of here~

Gyuhan knew he did it on purpose. But he kept his smile on his face, his nails digging into the skin of his fist. “What a pity, hyung. Have fun!” He answered simply, before reaching for the bag. “I’m going to start decorating this cake…”

Gyuhan had never joined dinner with his members in private. Everything is for show on the programmes, where Gyuhan’s image was snobby and simply disdainful. The members make sure it was kept that way for ten years.

ighoutofsvt: he’s disregarding jeonghan!couparang4ever: can someone kick that hater out of the room?gyuhannie: oppa! sorry that i’m late to your live!

Gyuhan’s eyes lit up at the ID. For the first time in the night, a genuine and bright smile appeared on his face. “Hello there. It’s alright, you’re just in time.”

10 February, 2017

It has been two years since they debuted.

Gyuhan sat at the very end of the stage, watching his members laugh and play on the stage. Half of his body was shrouded in darkness, but no one seemed to realize that. Everyone’s attention was on the thirteen figures in the light.

At this point of time, Gyuhan had stopped harboring hope. He knew that the members would never accept him, no matter how hard he worked for them. He remembered how Chan wiped his hands in disgust after putting his arms around Gyuhan for the camera.

“Ew, let Kwannie hyung do that next time,” he complained to Seungcheol, who barely even looked up from his phone. Gyuhan was left stranded in the room, before retreating to his usual corner by the stand-by room.

And now he sat on the stool, half-hidden by the darkness, watching them play around on the stage with a hole in his heart.

The fansign was even worse. The fans either ignored Gyuhan, or just urged him to sign their album before taking out another for the other members. Gyuhan kept his smile on, his voice soft as he repeated his actions again and again, greeting every fan that walked past him. He saw the manager adjusting some of the gifts for the members, and he glanced around at the empty table that belonged to him.

Pathetic, he thought, before a figure sat down in front of him.

“Hello!” Gyuhan’s heart raced. A blushing girl smiled sweetly as she sat down in front of him with an album in hand. “Hello, Gyuhan-ssi!”

“H-hi!” Gyuhan stammered. “How are you?” He asked, as the fan began to share a short conversation with him. When the time was up, she promised to see Gyuhan at the next fansign.

“I’ll make an ID called ‘Gyuhannie’!” That was her promise when she left.

And she did.

02 February, 2019

It has been four years since Gyuhan had joined SEVENTEEN.

The group has started to gain popularity. When Gyuhan had followed Seokmin, Joshua and Soonyoung to the store under their ‘friendly’ request, fans spotted them and requested for photos.

None paid attention to him.

“Hey, could you help us take a photo?” A fan approached Gyuhan, shoving her phone to his face. Gyuhan’s eyes peeked out from the beanie, and he nodded, raising the phone and facing it to the fans and the other three.

“One, two, three, smile!” The camera clicked, and the fans thanked the other three for the pictures. Gyuhan silently picked up the grocery bags, walking to the car on his own. He has already grown numb to this, whether it be the treatment of his members or CARATs. Even hosts from shows also seem to forget about him, rarely cueing him unless the director had reminded them.

Gyuhan felt invisible.

At times, he was thankful that he was invisible. That means that nobody paid attention to him, and Gyuhan could take a rest from malicious comments and hateful thoughts. But other times, Gyuhan was miserable.

Gyuhan is part of SEVENTEEN.

Isn’t he?

As the fans bade the members goodbye, one of them turned to her friend, whispering. “Hey, who’s the guy in the beanie?”

“No idea, maybe a manager?”

09 February, 2015

“That’s the last time you should make a mistake, Im Gyuhan!”

Soonyoung roared in frustration as the members groaned, Seungkwan running to stop the music. Again, this is the third time Gyuhan made a mistake in the choreography. Gyuhan’s heart thumped as he bowed, apologizing again and again for making a mistake. “I’m really sorry-”

“I don’t think you are. Do you think being an idol is a joke, huh? You came out of nowhere, parachuting into our group and destroying our months-worth hard work. Is it funny to you?” Soonyoung grabbed Gyuhan’s shirt, as the others attempted to calm him down. “Calm down, Soonyoung-ah!”

Gyuhan could feel the room glaring with him with dislike. He felt suffocated, his muscles sore and tired from exhaustion. A hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and Gyuhan turned to see Minghao staring expressionlessly at him.

“I think you should leave for the moment, Gyuhan-ssi.” He had never called him hyung, not once. “We need time to calm Soonyoung down, maybe you should do that too.”

Gyuhan left.

No one followed him.

24 May, 2025

gyuhannie: oppa, you look tired.

Gyuhan sat alone in his bedroom, smiling at the comment. The staff had finally gotten him a nice looking birthday cake, a chocolate-flavored one. It’s not as fancy as what the other members have, but still, it’s enough for Gyuhan.

“Do I?” His voice was light. “Maybe I should go to bed earlier today. Once I finish blowing the candles, anyway.”

svtot134ever: you’re really not fit to be an idol gyugyus38: can you haters just leave him alone? haodebah: you have gifts this year?

“Yep! Wonwoo gave me that, and Jun gave me that.” Gyuhan pointed at two nicely-wrapped presents placed right behind him. “Oh, but I want to show you guys some cool stuff.”

For some reason, the hate for Gyuhan had been reduced. The other members have also started to become friendly towards Gyuhan, and Mingyu even helped him when he moved out of the dorm to his current apartment. Gyuhan hadn’t accepted his help, only agreeing when the manager told him that they needed extra manpower.

And for some strange reason, they have been acting nicer to him. Gyuhan didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to know why. Who knows what they might be planning for him? So when Jihoon showed up at his apartment with a fruit basket and gifts, Gyuhan just let him in.

He’s too tired to think anymore.

For ten years that they have known each other, Jihoon and Gyuhan hadn’t really spoken to each other, unless he was in the recording studio. Gyuhan would say that Jihoon was actually one of the nicer members towards him, not paying much attention and yet just coldly watching him struggle from the sidelines. So when Jihoon heard that he was allergic to peaches, Gyuhan caught guilt flashing past his eyes.

But why?

“I’m sorry, I’ll take this back-” “No, leave it. It’s fine.” Gyuhan sat across from Jihoon, gesturing for him to put the fruit basket containing the peaches down. “What makes you visit me today?”

“Oh,” Jihoon looked nervous. He pointed to the bags he took with him. “Happy birthday. I mean, Wonwoo and Jun asked me to bring these… And here’s mine…” He took out a box from one of the bags, placing it in front of Gyuhan.

Gyuhan was taken aback. Is he in a dream? Is Jihoon really sitting in front of him, wishing him a happy birthday?

“Jihoon gifted me this. Isn’t it pretty?” Gyuhan opened the box, revealing a pen lying in it. Gyuhan’s name was carved into the pen, and he gently held it to the camera, his eyes shining with delight.

picheolinshat: that’s actually a nice looking pen.gyuhannie: it’s really pretty!ot134ever: it’s just a penujijijijjiji: what about wonwoo’s gift?iokfsn920: open jun’s gift!

“I’ll open Jun’s gift first.” Gyuhan took a quick glance at the screen, before turning his attention to the bag. Carefully, Gyuhan took out a nicely wrapped package. He unwrapped it, revealing a pair of gloves.

“This is nice.” Gyuhan immediately put the gloves on, but it was too big for his hand.

couparang4ever: LOL jun bought the wrong sizehanniehaeeee: HAHAHAHAHA wrong size dkkk920: how did he buy the wrong size?

“They’re really warm and fuzzy.” Gyuhan rubbed the material of the glove between his fingers after he pulled them off. He cleared his throat, looking at the clock.

“Ah, it’s time.”

He lit the candle up, his gaze alternating between the clock and the comment section. The fans were counting down with him, and when the minute hand reached twelve, Gyuhan smiled.

25 May, 2025

“Happy 30th birthday to me, CARATs.”

#🌷kyii #seventeen #svt #mansaenetwork #seventeen angst #svt angst

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