yiichan

[yiichan]

𝟎𝟑 - 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐨, 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. word count. 0.9k. genre. parellel universe au, extra member au, angst.

warnings. none (for this chapter)

writers notes. im busy but im trying!!! and surprise? i'll slowly add in the new warnings to the chapter index page!

no beta i die like men, but still mentioning @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist. @vixensss

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

Joshua couldn’t sleep.

It had been a week since Gyuhan's funeral.

The team was on hiatus now, "dealing with the grief," as the company called it. But for Joshua, grief wasn’t something he could process like that. He lay in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, his bloodshot eyes unblinking. The faint glow of city lights slipped through the curtains, tracing faint shapes across the walls.

With a sigh, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet slipped into his worn-out slippers, and he made his way to the window.

The moon hung bright in the sky, lighting up the quiet streets below. Joshua leaned his head against the window, the cool glass grounding him for a moment.

But it wasn’t enough to stop the memories.

Every night, they came. He saw himself from the outside—remembering how he and the others had treated Gyuhan. The harsh words, the coldness, the way they had ignored his struggles. Whether it was before they debuted or after they made it, Joshua couldn’t think of a single moment when they had been good to him.

Gyuhan deserved better.

Joshua clenched his jaw, his fingers gripping the windowsill. "Dear God," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "If I could just go back… If I could make things right. Treat him the way I should have."

But the room stayed silent, and the moon kept shining, offering no answers.

A soft knock broke the silence. Joshua flinched, wiping his face quickly before heading to the door.

Seungcheol stood there, looking just as wrecked as Joshua felt. His hair was messy, his eyes rimmed red, and he clutched a bottle of soju in one hand.

"Can’t sleep either?" Seungcheol asked, forcing a weak smile.

Joshua stepped aside to let him in. They sat in silence for a while, the soju untouched between them.

"You think… you think he hates us?" Seungcheol finally asked, his voice cracking.

Joshua’s throat tightened. He didn’t answer, yet his hesitancy seemed to give Seungcheol his answer. Seungcheol buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Joshua looked away, the sight of Seungcheol breaking down almost too much to bear. His own eyes stung, but no tears came—they hadn’t since the funeral.

"I don’t know," Joshua said finally, his voice hoarse. "I keep thinking… if we had just realized it earlier. If I had said something, done something, anything—" He cut himself off, his fingers digging into his knees.

"We all failed him," Seungcheol mumbled, his words muffled by his hands. "But I was supposed to lead. I let him down more than anyone."

Joshua clenched his fists, anger bubbling in his chest—anger at himself, at Seungcheol, at the team, at the world for letting things get so bad. "It wasn’t just you," he muttered. "We all saw it. We all did it. We’re the reason that he kept to himself… the reason that he smiled like he was apologizing for existing."

Seungcheol looked up, his face streaked with tears. "What are we supposed to do now? How do we live with this?"

Joshua didn’t have an answer. The weight in his chest was suffocating, pressing down harder with every second that passed.

He stood abruptly, pacing to the window again. The moon was still there, unchanging, as though mocking the turmoil inside him.

"I prayed earlier," Joshua said suddenly, his back to Seungcheol. "I asked for a chance to go back. To fix everything."

Seungcheol let out a hollow laugh. "If only it worked like that."

Joshua turned to face him, his expression grim. "If it doesn’t, then what’s the point? What’s the point of all this grief if we can’t do anything about it?"

Seungcheol didn’t reply. The room fell silent again, but this time, the quiet felt heavier, almost unnatural.

Then the lights flickered.

Joshua froze, his breath catching. "Did you see that?"

Seungcheol frowned, looking around. "Yeah. Power surge, maybe?"

But the flickering grew worse, the shadows in the room shifting strangely, almost alive. Joshua’s heart raced as he glanced back at the window. The moonlight seemed brighter now, almost blinding.

And then, in an instant, everything went dark.

Joshua blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden blackness. But when he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t in his apartment anymore.

He was standing in the practice room.

The air smelled of sweat and faint cologne, just like it always had during their trainee days. His heart pounded as he looked around, his eyes landing on the calendar pinned to the wall.

2015.

His stomach dropped.

Did he go back in time? Joshua turned to look at his reflection in the mirror. He definitely had. He was shorter, and his face was younger. With shaking fingers, Joshua slowly reached up to touch his face.

It felt real.

He pinched his cheek.

It is real.

Joshua’s attention was drawn back to the calendar. February 1, 2015… This should be around the time Gyuhan joined them.

Tears came to Joshua’s eyes. They hadn’t come during Gyuhan’s funeral, but now, as one rolled down his cheek, Joshua clasped his hands together, a choked laugh bubbling out of his throat.

He was so thankful.

Joshua fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions crashing over him. Relief, guilt, determination—they all mixed together, leaving him breathless. The smell of the practice room, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights, the scuffed wooden floor—it was all so vivid, so unmistakably real.

He wiped his tears hastily, glancing around as he tried to collect himself. This was his chance. A chance to do what he couldn’t before.

Thank you for answering my prayers, he thought, his palms together. I won't waste this chance. I'll do better.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

I got the tickets for SVT Right Here concert!

My country’s ticketing system really sucks, I’ve been trying for presale but it’s sold up (I queued from 10am to 1pm). But thank goodness they opened up a second day, and I got the cat 1 tickets for day 2!

But I will still try for VIP. Really. I wanted that VIP. I want to see them up close.

I told myself if I got the VIP tickets I’ll start preaching that Kwon Soonyoung is a tiger.

Lucky on replay, pleas bless me Boo Seungkwan, and the God of Luck Jeon Wonwoo.

Lastly, fuck the scalpers.

[yiichan]

man😭😭 i might need an oxygen tank on lost fourteenth's next chapter because i can barely breath now from crying😭😭

Awww I hope you’ll feel better soon!

[yiichan]

lost fourteenth is the most gut wrenching thing i read lately. absolutely destroyed me

Here's a virtual tissue from me to you...

And also, yay! I'll take that as a compliment. All those hours of repeating cigarettes after sex playlists didn't go to waste!

[yiichan]

𝟎𝟐 - 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. word count. 0.8k. 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. is it too late now to say sorry?

no beta i die like men, but still mentioning @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist.

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

Jeonghan thought he was dreaming. 

In a nightmare. A terrible, soul-sucking nightmare that he just couldn’t get rid of. 

But it’s real. It’s real as he stood lifelessly in the mourning hall, the smiling photo of Gyuhan staring back at him. 

The members were scattered around the hall. Seungcheol was drinking silently with Chan in a corner. Vernon sat next to a puffy-faced Seungkwan, who had a tired Seokmin dozing off on his shoulder with his tear-stained face. Junhui and Minghao flew back from China almost immediately, sitting silently in a corner, while Joshua bowed to the incoming mourners, exchanging small conversation with them as Mingyu accepted the condolence envelopes. 

Then Jeonghan realized. 

Gyuhan only had them. 

In the decade that Gyuhan has been around, Jeonghan knew that the others didn’t really see him as family. To them, Gyuhan was an abnormality, something that was different and strange. They had lived a life without Im Gyuhan, but yet…

Someone nudged him. Wonwoo walked over, sitting next to him. The two grown men sat in silence as the mourners came and went. Idols, producers and entertainers came in and out, and their own families were resting in a corner. 

“Drink some water, hyung.” Wonwoo’s voice was hoarse as he passed a bottle of water to Jeonghan. The older man accepted it, but did not open it to drink. His fingers gripped the bottle tightly, his eyes on the picture in the middle of the hall. 

When the group died in the car crash in their previous life, Jeonghan was resentful. He was resentful when he woke up and thought he went back in time, until he realized that he and the members had transmigrated into a parallel universe. 

Gyuhan is someone unfamiliar.

Jeonghan disliked him. 

The moment Gyuhan entered the melon green room, Jeonghan felt the goosebumps creeping along his arms. He immediately thought of this as a conspiracy, and Gyuhan was someone out to harm the other members and him. 

It took him eight years. Eight whole years to realize that Gyuhan had done nothing wrong. 

This is a parallel universe, after all.

But when Jeonghan realized his mistake and theirs, it was already too late. 

Little attempts were made to make up for everything. The invites to dinner, the small conversation making. Telling off fans who insulted him. Posing for photos during fansigns. The small links of their fingers, skin-to-skin contact in shows and stages. 

But Gyuhan remained distant. He politely declined each of their invites, except the ones where staff members joined. He gave monosyllabic answers to their conversation attempts, shutting it off pretty quickly. He would quickly retract his arms after linking them together with them for a photo, as though he had touched something dirty. 

He had shut himself away from them. 

Just like they had hoped for the first eight years. 

“Woozi-nim just woke up, I’m going over to the ward.” Jeonghan snapped out of his thoughts, his attention turned towards the manager and Seungcheol. “Do you want to come with me?”

Jeonghan hears Seungcheol mumble a hoarse reply, and he turns his attention back to the bottle in his hand. 

Out of the thirteen of them, Soonyoung took the blow the worst. He had stormed out of the dorm when the news dropped, and had been uncontactable ever since. His mother and sister were sitting among their families, whispering among themselves. 

Jeonghan thought about the day when they debuted. Their families had stepped forwards, putting the ring on them like what they expected. But when Jeonghan looked over to Gyuhan, he was a little taken aback when he saw the manager putting the ring on for him instead. 

Back then, he felt nothing. 

But now?

“On some days, hyung,” Wonwoo started slowly, taking off his glasses. He took a small cloth out of his pocket and slowly wiped the dust on the lens away. “I thought our previous life was something that we have dreamt about. The world where there are only thirteen members of SEVENTEEN.”

Jeonghan slowly savored Wonwoo’s words. He looked up at the photo again, of the smiling Gyuhan. He looked happy, yet the smile did not reach his eyes. It was like Gyuhan just smiling for the sake of the photo. 

Jeonghan was drowning in the endless sea of regret. Wonwoo remained silent after that, his glasses perched on his nose. The older male suddenly stood up, heading towards the exit. 

The air felt like concrete. Jeonghan hurried out from the hall towards the corridor, where he swiftly avoided the fans and reporters gathering. 

Escaping towards the fire escape, Jeonghan gasped like a fish out of water, the fiery tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

How can they do this to an innocent soul? How could he do this to an innocent soul? 

“I'm sorry…” Jeonghan leaned against the wall, covering his face with his quivering fingers. He slowly slipped down, chanting out apologies like a mantra. 

But the person that needed to hear them isn't around, not anymore.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

𝟎𝟏 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. word count. 1.1k. 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. another reupload.

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist.

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

It took the manager three tries to get the message across.

Seungcheol froze, the shattered glass slipping from his trembling hand. The words sank in slowly, each syllable carving into his heart. Black spots danced in his vision, and he staggered, struggling to stay upright. The manager's sigh felt like a distant echo in the chaos of his mind.

“I’m sorry, Seungcheol-nim.” Seungcheol swayed, gripping the counter for support. “We will try to... to secure the news about Gyuhan-nim’s death. But I need you to tell the other members…”

Seungcheol’s grip tightened on the counter until his knuckles turned white. His chest constricted, each breath growing shallower and more painful. How was he supposed to tell them? How could he possibly find the words?

“Gyuhan... he... he can’t be gone,” Seungcheol whispered, his voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of disbelief and sorrow. “It’s his birthday…”

Guilt cut through him, sharp like the broken shards of glass littered around Seungcheol. There was only silence on the other line, and Seungcheol steadied himself, putting his hand over his eyes. “If this is some kind of sick prank, Manager Lee…”

Because Gyuhan cannot be gone. Im Gyuhan cannot be gone. Seungcheol hadn’t apologised to him, the others hadn’t atoned to him. They were only getting used to this parallel universe of SEVENTEEN, and even if they spent years blaming it on Gyuhan—

Seungcheol choked out a broken sob as he fell to his knees. The pain of their unresolved conflicts and harsh words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. Memories of how they had treated him flashed through his mind, the bitterness and frustration now seeming so trivial and petty.

“I’m sorry,” Manager Lee said after a long while. “I still have to settle some matters, Seungcheol-nim. Gyuhan-nim’s… body,” he took a deep breath, as tears streamed down Seungcheol’s cheeks. “Is still in the hospital… And Woozi-nim is here…”

“Jihoonie?” Seungcheol repeated, his mind clear for a second. “What is he doing there?”

The manager hesitated before speaking. “Woozi-nim was the first to discover Gyuhan-nim’s body… He has passed out since then.”

Seungcheol felt a fresh wave of agony wash over him. Woozi had found Gyuhan... the shock and trauma of that moment must have been overwhelming. Seungcheol’s heart ached for Jihoon, imagining the horror and helplessness he must have felt.

“I need to get to him,” Seungcheol said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to be there for Jihoon and... and for Gyuhan.”

The manager’s voice softened. “I understand. Please, take care of yourself too, Seungcheol-nim. We’ll handle everything else here.”

Seungcheol nodded, even though Manager Lee couldn’t see him. He ended the call and forced himself to stand. His legs felt like lead, but he moved forward, driven by the need to be with his members, to somehow make sense of this tragedy.

Each step toward the hospital felt like walking through a nightmare. The weight of his guilt and sorrow bore down on him, but he knew he had to be strong. For Jihoon, for Gyuhan, and for the rest of SEVENTEEN.

As he entered the hospital, the sterile smell and harsh lights only heightened his sense of unreality. He found Jihoon’s room and hesitated at the door, gathering what little strength he had left before stepping inside.

Jihoon lay on the bed, pale and still, an IV drip attached to his arm. Seungcheol’s heart broke at the sight, and he moved to his side, gently taking Jihoon’s hand in his. Gently, he swept the younger’s hair out of his face.

Jihoon lay on the bed, pale and still, an IV drip attached to his arm. Seungcheol’s heart broke at the sight, and he moved to his side, gently taking Jihoon’s hand in his. Gently, he swept the younger’s hair out of his face.

His phone buzzed. As Seungcheol answered it, Jeonghan’s shaking voice travelled from the other line. “Cheol… What d-does the news mean?”

“News?” Seungcheol quickly opened his phone. Messages, DMs, and notifications flooded his screen, each one more frantic and heart-wrenching than the last. His hands trembled as he navigated to the news app, and there, staring back at him in stark black and white, was Gyuhan’s smiling face. Next to it, a big ‘BREAKING NEWS’ icon flashed ominously.

Seungcheol’s breath caught in his throat as he read the headline: "Tragic Loss: SEVENTEEN's Gyuhan Passes Away on His Birthday." The words blurred as tears filled his eyes, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He could barely process the shock and devastation radiating from the article, detailing Gyuhan's unexpected death.

“Han,” Seungcheol choked out, his voice raw with grief. “It’s true… Gyuhan is gone.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a muffled sob. “How… How could this happen?” Jeonghan’s voice was filled with disbelief and sorrow. There was a sound of something breaking in his background, and then Joshua’s voice appeared.

“Where are you now?” Joshua sounded calmer.

“The hospital. Ji-Jihoon found him and he’s… passed out.”

“We’re coming,” Joshua said firmly. “We’ll be there soon. Stay with Jihoon.”

Hanging up the phone, Seungcheol stood up, swaying slightly as he did. He needed to see Gyuhan one last time, to confront the reality of his passing. With trembling steps, he made his way out of Jihoon’s room and down the sterile hospital corridor.

As he approached the morgue where Gyuhan’s body lay, Seungcheol hesitated at the door, his hand trembling on the handle. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

Inside the morgue, a nurse was quietly organising paperwork. Seungcheol’s footsteps echoed in the sterile room as he approached. Overhearing her soft voice, he froze in place.

“It’s such a tragedy,” the nurse murmured, not noticing Seungcheol’s presence. “Such a young life lost…”

Seungcheol’s heart clenched at her words, the weight of guilt and grief crushing him. He stood there, silently listening, as tears streamed down his face.

Gyuhan lay motionless on a cold metal table, peaceful yet achingly still. Seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he knelt beside him, reaching out a trembling hand to gently brush Gyuhan’s hair back from his forehead.

He’s dead. Seungcheol tried to recall the last time he saw Gyuhan. Was it a week ago? Maybe two? When everyone was gathered in the practice room for their comeback stage? 

The scenes flashed past his eyes, bit by bit. Him approaching Gyuhan awkwardly to ask about his new house, Gyuhan turning down Mingyu’s offer to help him move, Seungkwan asking Gyuhan to join him for dinner…

“We’re really pieces of shits to you, aren’t we?” Seungcheol's words echoed in the quiet morgue, each syllable heavy with self-condemnation. He withdrew his hand from Gyuhan's forehead, feeling a profound sense of unworthiness settle over him. He bowed his head, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked. Guilt, regret, and sorrow intertwined within him, a tumultuous storm of emotions. 

When an avalanche happens, not a single piece of snowflakes are innocent.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

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.”

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

lost fourteenth | chapter index

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc 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. As promised, this is the re-upload of the entire lost fourteenth series. i have made a chapter index in case readers cannot find the chapters. Each member's POVs will also be slowly updated. As for warning tags, I am not too sure about what else to put. Do let me know if I missed any triggers out.

[open] taglist. @vixensss

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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 - 𝐈𝐦 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝟎𝟏 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 𝟎𝟐 - 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝟎𝟑 - 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐨, 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚 𝟎𝟒 - 𝐖𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐢 𝟎𝟓 - 𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝟎𝟔 - 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟎𝟕 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐉𝐢𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝟎𝟖 - 𝐗𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐨 𝟎𝟗 - 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝟏𝟎 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟏 - 𝐁𝐨𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝟏𝟐 - 𝐂𝐡𝐰𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥, 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝟏𝟑 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 - 𝟏𝟒 + 𝟑 = 𝟏𝟕

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐓𝟏𝟑

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lost fourteen - angst ; wc. tbc

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

Hi, sorry to ask, I couldn't find the next part of 'lost seventeen' 😔. I really liked the outline and the storyline. Are you planning to continue it?

I'll be honest with you: I FORGOT!!!

But since we are at the topic of it, I think it'll be nice if I can complete the story to give it the full 13 POVs. 'lost fourteen' was something that came out after my 'emo @ 3am hours', so I didn't give it much thought after getting Cheol's POV out as I didn't have any 'emo @ 3 am hours'.

I didn't know there were still people reading that, I'm so happy that you sent this ask into my inbox! I will reformatt Cheol's version, and probably reupload the prequel on my main @peachesyeo to here.

Again, thanks for reminding!

[yiichan]

Pove your blog! Pls could you write about yandere woozi and wonu next?

pairings. yandere!woozi x yandere!wonwoo x gn!reader word count. 1k. genre. yandere, request

warnings. obsessive behaviour, violence, rough treatment, mentions of cheating, mentions of polyamory, reader is the cheater, literal ankle breaking, sadism.

writer's notes. thanks for 'poving' my blog haha. you never said anything about whether you want it to be a short story or headcannon or member x member, so i'm just going to go ahead with this. honestly i shocked myself because i think it's the first time i'm writing something like this. once again, i do not condone this kind of behaviour in real life.

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

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"Where are you going?"

You froze mid-lace, looking over your shoulder at Jihoon. He stood there, arms crossed, brow raised, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

"Just outside," you replied, feeling his stare heavy on you. You focused on tying your shoes, but before you could stand, his hand landed firmly on your shoulder, pressing you back into place. Startled, you turned slightly, only to see Jihoon looming close behind, his expression shrouded in shadows from the dim light.

"It's late," he said, voice low, his grip unyielding. "It’s not safe for you to be out there alone."

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as you pried his hand away. "Jihoon, please—"

"You're going out to see Wonwoo, aren’t you?" His voice was ice, each word landing like a blow. A chill prickled down your spine. You shook your head, turning fully to face him.

"Jihoon, it's not—"

“I know exactly what’s been going on.” His words were a whisper, but his eyes held a storm. He leaned closer, and for the first time in your three years together, you saw a side of Jihoon you’d never seen before—cold, calculating, a darkness lurking behind his gaze. "Do you even know Wonwoo?"

"I—"

"Save it." His finger pressed against your lips, silencing you. His face inched closer until his breath was warm against your cheek, his grip firm as he lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Enough with the excuses, darling."

Guilt gnawed at you. You had betrayed him, that much was true. Jihoon was always locked away in his studio, composing, chasing his dreams for a future he promised would be for both of you. You had tried to be supportive, to be patient, but the loneliness had become unbearable, and in your moments of weakness, you found comfort in Wonwoo. Wonwoo, who listened, who was present, who made you feel seen. But with Jihoon right in front of you now, the weight of your choices bore down on you.

“I’m just trying to give us a future,” Jihoon murmured, his fingers tracing your jaw, his voice soft yet chilling. "You don’t need to run to him.”

Unable to look him in the eye, you shifted your gaze away, but Jihoon’s hold didn’t waver. He released you after a moment, straightening, his expression unreadable.

“Wonwoo isn’t in his apartment anyway.”

The doorbell rang, breaking the thick silence between you and Jihoon. Relief flooded through you, but it was short-lived. Jihoon scoffed, casting a sideways glance at you before strolling over to the door.

Your breath hitched when you saw who was standing there. Wonwoo leaned against the doorway, a sly smile curving his lips. "I’m not late, am I?"

"Wonwoo? What are you doing h—?"

"Not at all. You’re right on time, hyung." Jihoon’s voice cut through your question as Wonwoo stepped inside, closing the door with a casual flick of his wrist. "Hey, babe," Wonwoo greeted, his eyes sharp as they met yours.

Your stomach twisted in confusion. Hyung? Since when did Jihoon and Wonwoo know each other? Your mind scrambled for answers, but before you could speak, Wonwoo knelt down in front of you, a dark glint in his eyes as he reached for your shoelaces.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice smooth and deceptively warm as he slowly untied your shoes, “I thought Jihoon was kidding when he asked me to keep an eye on you. But I understand why now. You certainly have a way of keeping us both on our toes.”

His tone was soft, almost tender, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it—a veiled hostility that made your skin prickle. You pressed your hands to the floor for support, shifting back as he removed your shoes, fingers brushing a little too slowly over your ankles.

“But I never expected you’d try to seduce me like that, babe.” Wonwoo’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes not leaving yours even as Jihoon stood over him, watching with an unnerving calm.

Trapped between their gazes, a shiver ran down your spine.

Wonwoo’s grip tightened around your ankle, and you let out a yelp of pain, instinctively trying to pull yourself away. “Wo—”

“Don’t struggle, darling,” Jihoon murmured, a disturbing calm in his voice as he watched Wonwoo hoist you up, dragging you effortlessly with him. You kicked out with your free leg, desperate to break away, but Jihoon caught it with ease, his fingers wrapping around your ankle like a vice. He ran his nails over your skin, a soft graze that sent a jolt of fear through you, before his gaze flicked up, dark and unfeeling.

"I’ve known Wonwoo hyung for a long time,” Jihoon continued. “If you’d only asked, maybe I would’ve agreed to share.” His words sent a chill through you, and you thrashed against their hold, heart pounding, but the two of them remained unfazed.

Suddenly, you felt yourself yanked forward with force, your body skidding across the floor as Wonwoo took control, gripping both ankles now as he dragged you unceremoniously toward the bedroom. Your hands clawed at the ground, panic surging through you, but Wonwoo’s hold was unbreakable, his smirk mocking your futile resistance.

“And yet,” Jihoon’s voice drifted from behind, cold and scornful, “just the other night, I heard you were out clubbing—with some other guy who wasn’t hyung.”

A shiver tore through you, and you realized that the Jihoon and Wonwoo you thought you knew were gone, replaced by something far darker and more dangerous. You opened your mouth, desperate to scream for help, but a sinking realization hit you—it was useless. Wonwoo dragged you into Jihoon’s recording studio, the soundproof walls swallowing any chance of your cries reaching the outside world. The door clicked shut behind you, Jihoon blocking the only escape.

“Shall we begin your punishment, babe?” Wonwoo’s voice was smooth, dripping with malice, his grip unrelenting as he held you in place. Jihoon leaned against the closed door, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes watched you with a disturbing calm.

A sudden, sharp pain shot through your ankles, and you screamed, the sound ringing in your ears yet muffled by the padded walls. Tears gathered in your eyes, blurring your vision as your legs fell to the floor weakly. A gentle finger wiped them away, as you were slowly lifted and embraced by someone behind you. "Now you'll never leave any one of us, darling."

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

Yandere idol Mingyu x idol male reader from a different group under Pledis/Hybe and they have a size and body type difference too, 6'2 Mingyu and 5'7 male reader, the male reader is also told to have a more masculine facade but off camera he's naturally more feminine which Mingyu seems to obsess over. Mingyu starts stalking the male reader's enigmatic facade off camera out of curiosity discovering that the male reader also has some insecureties and body issues since he isn't the skinniest or slimmest idol and he gets criticism from netizens and sometimes even his members and managers both on and off camera but under all those baggy unflattering clothes Mingyu sees nothing but hidden voluptuous curves. Pretty long but I hope it came across clearly, also have fun with the plot and feel free to add your own artistic liberties!

pairings. yandere!idol!mingyu x male!idol!reader word count. 0.8k. genre. yandere, request

warnings. obsessive behaviour, peeking, eavesdropping, bodyshaming.

writer's notes. again, apologies for taking so long.

thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

network: @mansaenetwork

masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

Mingyu leaned casually against the wall, his sharp eyes locked on a figure in the waiting room. The staff bustled around, packing up equipment, while other idols either chatted or slumped onto the couches, exhaustion visible in their faces. But Mingyu’s attention never wavered. His gaze followed a shorter idol—about seven inches shorter—who quietly slipped out of the waiting room and into the dressing room. You.

Your figure disappeared around the corner. Mingyu quickly glanced around to ensure no one was watching before pushing himself off the wall and following.

He couldn’t explain it—the magnetic pull he felt toward you. On stage, you were everything an idol was supposed to be: strong, masculine, your toned arms flexing with every powerful move. The passion in your eyes captivated the audience, drawing admiration. But offstage, away from the cameras, you were different. Mingyu had noticed it—the softness in your expressions, how your deep, attractive voice became quieter, more hesitant when you weren’t performing.

And then there were your clothes. While your group members wore outfits that flaunted their bodies, earning cheers from fans, you always hid yourself under layers of oversized clothing. Even when Mingyu saw you at the company, you were wrapped in baggy hoodies and loose jeans, as if trying to disappear into the fabric.

Now, standing outside the slightly ajar dressing room door, Mingyu watched. Through the small gap, he saw you in front of the mirror, tugging at the collar of your shirt, your damp hair falling into your face. The baggy clothes you wore made it impossible to see your true form—but when you lifted your shirt slightly, Mingyu’s breath caught in his throat.

You began to unwrap the bandages and padding from your arms, letting out a small sigh of relief. Mingyu’s lips pressed into a thin line as the truth became clear. The stylists had wrapped those bandages around you to create the illusion of a more masculine frame.

As each drenched bandage hit the floor, Mingyu remained frozen, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as the last of the padding slipped off, revealing the truth you kept hidden.

There you were. The real you.

Your body wasn’t the rigid, muscular shape most idols had. Instead, you had soft, beautiful curves—so different from what the world expected. To Mingyu, it was breathtaking.

A slow, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You were more beautiful than anyone knew...

Mingyu lingered outside the dressing room longer than he intended, leaning against the cool wall. The chatter around him had quieted, with only a few staff members and idols still packing up. Just as he was about to leave, a conversation from the dressing room caught his attention.

"You need to start taking this more seriously," your manager’s voice snapped, loud enough to carry through the thin walls. "These baggy clothes aren’t hiding much anymore. Fans notice, and so do the cameras. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Mingyu’s brow furrowed as he stayed frozen, listening.

A second voice joined in, softer but still sharp. "The stylists are doing their best, but there's only so much we can cover up." The stylist’s tone dripped with annoyance. "If you just slimmed down a little, we wouldn’t have to wrap you up like this every time."

The silence that followed felt heavy, and Mingyu could almost picture you standing there, quietly taking in their harsh words. He imagined you lowering your head, trying to hide how deeply their criticism hurt you. He had seen that vulnerability before, the way you carried your insecurities despite pretending everything was fine.

"You’re supposed to look like the rest of them," your manager continued, sounding even more frustrated. "Fans are already starting to comment. If you don’t start shaping up, it’s going to hurt the group’s image. You know how ruthless netizens can be."

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. They didn’t see it, he thought. They didn’t see how beautiful you really are. To them, you were just another idol who needed to fit their idea of perfection. But Mingyu knew better.

He swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. The more he listened, the more protective he felt. It wasn’t fair that they were treating you like this, picking apart the very things that made you special—the softness, the curves, the real you.

The conversation droned on, but Mingyu had heard enough. He slipped away from the door, tension coiling in his body. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just heard. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, forced to hide the parts of yourself that he found so captivating.

They don’t get to talk to you like that.

Mingyu’s fists clenched at his sides. The urge to protect you—to keep you close—burned stronger than ever. They didn’t deserve to know the truth about you.

Only I do.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

Do you also write gender neutral or fem reader?

Yes, I do! I just prefer writing x male reader! Thanks for being my first ask hehe ❤️

[yiichan]

Could you please do a yandere mingyu x male reader, the reader is the same height as him but not at all buff like he is and that’s what mingyu likes to tease him about

pairings. yandere!roommate!mingyu x male!reader (ft. roommates!minghao & seokmin) word count. 1.2k. genre. yandere, request

warnings. obsessive behaviour, reader is oblivious, minghao is sharp, seokmin is kinda oblivious too.

writer's notes. sorry that i took so long, i love the idea though!!

thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

network: @mansaenetwork

masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

One thing that always stood out between you and your best friend was the obvious contrast in your builds. And no, it wasn’t your height—at 1.87 meters (a solid 6’2”), you and Kim Mingyu both towered over most people. What really set you apart was your body type.

Mingyu was all broad shoulders and bulging muscles, the kind of guy who spent hours in the gym, sculpting himself until his arms were as thick as a child’s backpack. You, on the other hand, were… well, different. Your lean frame, messy hair, and ever-present glasses gave you the appearance of a classic otaku, someone more likely to be glued to a computer screen than lifting weights.

Mingyu had a habit of leaning in close—too close. Every time he teased you about your body type, his dark eyes would sparkle with something unreadable, a grin tugging at his lips like he was enjoying a private joke only he understood.

"Come on, skinny," he chuckled, poking your side as you fumbled with your phone. "I bet I could bench press you. Twice."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses, though you couldn’t stop the heat from rising in your cheeks. "Sure, gym rat. But could you even spell 'bench press'?" It was your usual weak comeback, but Mingyu didn’t seem to care. In fact, he laughed a little too hard, like it was the funniest thing in the world. His laughter always lingered longer than it should, his hand resting on your shoulder a little too comfortably.

No matter how much he teased you, Mingyu always found a reason to be near, to touch you, like he couldn’t stand the idea of being too far away. His grip would tighten ever so slightly, as if staking his claim in a way you didn’t even notice. To you, it was all just harmless fun. But to him? There was something possessive in the way his eyes followed your every movement, a hidden hunger behind his brown orbs. 

“C’mon, Mr. Otaku. You really need to hit the gym—even Minghao’s starting to bulk up,” Seokmin teased between mouthfuls of pancakes. You glanced at Minghao, who sat beside him, and couldn’t help but notice the subtle flex in his toned arms as he shrugged.

Your lips twitched. Maybe Seokmin had a point—Minghao was definitely getting more fit.

But before you could think too much about it, Mingyu scoffed from beside you. Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his cheek firmly against your shoulder, his closeness so casual yet so possessive. “Nah,” he muttered, his voice low as his breath brushed your ear. “I like M/n just the way he is. He’s the perfect size.”

His words made you roll your eyes, but the warmth of his presence lingered longer than it should, making you shift slightly. “You’d say that just to avoid competition,” you shot back, but your voice lacked any real bite. 

Seokmin grinned, clearly in a playful mood, and reached over to ruffle your already-messy hair. "Seriously, you’d look great with a little muscle on you. Maybe I’ll start dragging you to the gym with me." He threw you a wink. 

The smile on Mingyu’s face froze, but you didn’t notice, too busy laughing off Seokmin’s comment. “Yeah, right. You’d have to wake me up for those early morning workouts, and we both know I’m a lost cause there.” You shrugged, brushing Seokmin's hand away half-heartedly.

Before you could react, Mingyu’s arm snaked around your shoulders, his grip firm—almost too tight, his body pressed close against yours. “Hands off,” Mingyu said, the playful tone in his voice masking the sudden chill in his eyes. “M/n’s already got a personal trainer, right?” His smile seemed forced as he looked at Seokmin, daring him to push further.

Seokmin chuckled, unaware of the tension. “Alright, alright, possessive much?” he teased, not noticing how Mingyu’s jaw clenched for a brief second.

But Minghao did.

He watched the scene unfold with sharp eyes, noting the way Mingyu’s hand lingered a little too long on your shoulder, the tension in his grip that you were completely oblivious to. Minghao exchanged a quick glance with Mingyu, who shot him a warning look in return. It was a brief moment, but it said everything.

You, of course, just rolled your eyes and shrugged off Mingyu’s arm. “You two act like I’m some prize to be won.”

Mingyu’s smile returned, but this time, there was something darker behind it. “Exactly.”

As the conversation moved on, you started gathering the empty plates, oblivious to the tension that still clung in the air. Seokmin was back to chatting away, completely unaware of the icy glares Mingyu had been shooting at him moments earlier.

Minghao, though, wasn’t letting it go that easily.

When Seokmin leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily, Minghao leaned in closer, his voice low enough for only Seokmin to hear. “You should stop pushing it with M/n.”

Seokmin blinked, confused by the serious tone. “What? Why?” He glanced at you, still jokingly struggling to stack the plates. “We’re just messing around. It’s all in good fun.”

Minghao’s eyes flicked briefly to Mingyu, who was watching you a little too intently as you worked. His possessive grip on your shoulder earlier hadn’t escaped Minghao’s notice. “Yeah, well… Mingyu doesn’t see it that way.”

Seokmin chuckled, shaking his head. “Mingyu? He’s just being his usual self. Always glued to M/n’s side.” But the easy smile on his face faltered when he caught the look in Minghao’s eyes—serious, almost warning him to be more careful.

“Mingyu’s glued to M/n’s side for a reason,” Minghao whispered, leaning in just a little closer. “Just… pay attention next time, okay? It’s not as harmless as you think.”

Seokmin frowned, glancing toward Mingyu, who was now at your side, helping you with the dishes. From an outsider’s perspective, everything seemed normal—just friends hanging out. But now, Seokmin noticed the way Mingyu hovered too closely, the subtle way he touched you, like he was making sure you stayed within his reach.

“Are you saying…” Seokmin started, but Minghao quickly shook his head.

“I’m not saying anything outright,” Minghao replied calmly. “But maybe stop trying to get so close to M/n. For your own sake.”

Seokmin's eyes widened slightly, but before he could respond, you turned around, giving them both a puzzled look. “Hey, you two gonna help out, or just sit there whispering?”

Mingyu smiled at you, all innocent again, but when his eyes shifted back to Seokmin, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Seokmin felt a strange tension creep up on him, the weight of Minghao’s warning sinking in.

Before anything could go further, Minghao stepped in, casually blocking Seokmin behind him, cutting off Mingyu’s gaze. “We’re coming,” Minghao said, his tone calm but firm.

Mingyu’s eyes lingered on Seokmin for just a second longer, but when he looked at you, the smile was back in full force. You, still completely unaware of the silent exchange, raised an eyebrow. “You guys coming or what? I’m not doing this by myself.”

Seokmin gave a quick nod, shaking off the strange feeling. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” he muttered, quieter than usual.

As they headed toward you, Minghao shot one last glance at Mingyu. Mingyu’s smile stayed, but the look in his eyes hadn’t softened at all.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

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yandere!top!jeonghan x sub!m!reader - yandere, suggestive yandere!childhoodbestfriend!wonwoo x m!reader - yandere,

yandere!mingyu x m!reader - yandere ; wc 1.1k yandere!idol!mingyu x m!idol!reader - yandere ; wc 0.8k yandere!sub!chan x top!m!reader - yandere, nsfw yandere!top!idol!chan x btm!fan!m!reader - yandere, fluff, nsfw yandere!woozi x yandere!wonwoo x gn!reader - yandere ; wc. 1k

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

이찬 | 李燦 | 디노 | 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 | 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐎

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effortlessly - x m!reader, yandere, nsfw

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[yiichan]

effortlessly ; lee chan | dino

pairings. yandere!stalker!leechan x male!reader word count. 1.3k. genre. yandere, smut.

warnings. mdni, stalking, obsessive behaviour, chan is delusional, reader is oblivious, perv!chan, watching through hidden cameras, masturbation, kidnapping/abductation, use of drugs(?.

thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

network: @mansaenetwork

masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

Chan leaned his head against the wall and listened to the sound of rushing water with his earphones. His eyes were closed, and he squeezed the phone in his hand. 

In his head, the image of a naked you rubbed your body sensually as soap was spread over your soft skin. Chan moaned loudly, picturing that it was his own hands that were traveling over your skin. From your neck, across your chest, and all the way down to your cock.

Fuck. 

Chan pulled his own cock out, stroking the shaft as he continued his unfiltered imagination. He would pull you close, his lips claiming the skin upon your neck. His hand would go up to the rosebuds on your chest, pulling and nicking at them until they stayed perky and hard. The other one will slowly make its way to your cock, stroking them softly like how he is doing to his own right now. 

Chan would push you onto the wall, his tongue intertwined with yours as he firmly grinds against your plush cheeks. He'll grab your wrists and hold them up above you, watching you struggle in helplessness against him as his finger breaches your hole, preparing you for the whole of him. The sound of running water stopped in his earphones, accompanied by humming and shuffling. 

Chan threw his head back, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he spurts release all over himself. The white sticky substance stained his finger as he lifted them to his mouth, imagining that it was yours instead.

"Yummy..." He licked his lips, letting out a long sigh of contentment. Shifting his gaze toward his phone's small, cracked screen, Chan watched as you dried off and put on your clothes. His eyes raked over your body—from your delicate face to your toned muscles and abs. 

He couldn't wait to have you all to himself.

But his hyungs had taught him that a good hunter is rewarded when he’s patient.

With a slow breath, Chan removed his earphones and reached for the tissues, wiping himself with little care before tossing them aside and changing into fresh clothes. A light hum escaped his lips as he checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his shirt, then his cap. Everything had to be perfect.

The night was eerily still. The warm wind swept down empty streets, carrying with it the faint sounds of distant traffic. Chan’s footsteps were muffled as he walked along the gravel path beneath your apartment, his cap pulled low over his face. He paused, glancing up at your window. The dim light from your living room poured through the drawn curtains, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your shadow moving inside.

Heat flushed through Chan’s cheeks as his mind raced with the possibilities. Tonight was the night. Tonight, he was finally going to have you. All to himself.

You sank into the couch with a sigh, letting the familiar comfort of the cushions cradle your tired body. The latest episode of your favorite variety show flickered on the screen, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax. It had been a long day—dealing with workplace disputes, navigating meetings with clients. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Maybe an early night wouldn't be so bad.

Ding dong.

You frowned, your gaze shifting towards the door. Who could be visiting at this hour? A glance at the clock confirmed it was well past the time for casual drop-ins. Stifling a yawn, you dragged yourself off the couch and made your way to the door.

Peeking through the peephole, you spotted a figure standing outside. A stranger, his face shadowed by a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Something about the situation struck you as odd.

You cracked the door open halfway, just enough to get a better look. He glanced up at you, his expression neutral yet tinged with something unreadable.

"Sorry to bother you," he began, his voice soft but steady.

You blinked, curiosity stirring as you took him in. Now that you could see him more clearly, you noticed he was leaning on a crutch, his posture slightly strained. He was good-looking—almond-shaped eyes, raven-black hair peeking out from under his cap, and full lips pressed into a tight line. As he adjusted his cap, you couldn’t help but notice his toned arms flexing beneath his shirt. He pointed upward, towards the direction of your balcony.

"I just moved in upstairs a couple of nights ago," he explained. "I think some of my clothes fell onto your laundry line by mistake. Do you mind grabbing them for me?"

"One second..." You hesitated, your thoughts swirling. Something about him made you pause—a subtle, gnawing feeling that something was off. But he looked so sincere, so harmless, standing there on that crutch. Compassion began to override your initial discomfort.

You relented, opening the door a little wider. "Would you like to come in and rest for a moment while I grab them?" you offered, gesturing toward the couch. "It won't take long."

"Oh," his eyes lit up briefly at your invitation, but the brightness quickly faded. "Wouldn't I be bothering you? I can just wait here..."

"No, I insist," you replied, missing the flash of something darker that passed through his eyes. "Please, come in."

Now, the door was fully open. You stepped back, silently welcoming him inside. The man hesitated for a moment before hobbling in slowly with his crutch. You offered to help him, but he shook his head with a slight smile. "It's okay, I got this."

You led him into the living room, watching as he lowered himself onto your couch with careful movements. "I'll go get the clothes," you said, trying to sound casual. He nodded, his eyes never leaving you, sharp and intense, like a hawk tracking its prey.

But just as you turned your back, you felt something soft and damp press against your mouth and nose. Panic surged through you as an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against a solid chest. The sharp, medicinal scent of chemicals filled your nostrils, and you realized—too late—that it was a handkerchief soaked in something meant to knock you out.

You struggled, instinctively grabbing at the arm around your waist, trying to pry yourself free. Your legs kicked out in desperation, your fingers clawing at the cloth as muffled protests escaped your lips. But the man behind you was strong, his grip unwavering as he held you firm, pressing the handkerchief tighter.

The world began to blur. Your thoughts became sluggish, the strength draining from your limbs as darkness crept in from the edges of your vision. Still, you fought, the terror of the situation fueling your weakening efforts. But your body wasn’t listening anymore. The fight was slipping away from you, your limbs growing heavier with each passing second.

A low voice, almost soothing in its familiarity, whispered against your ear. "Shhh... Just relax. It'll be over soon."

Chan watched intently as your body went limp in his arms. He kept the handkerchief pressed firmly against your face for a few moments longer, ensuring that you were completely out before finally releasing his hold. He breathed in slowly, savoring the moment, a twisted sense of satisfaction curling at the edges of his lips.

With meticulous care, he hefted you up and over his shoulder, moving with an ease that belied his earlier act of frailty. The crutch clattered to the floor, a useless prop now discarded.

Whatever Chan wanted, Chan got.

Effortlessly.

He straightened, adjusting your weight on his shoulder as if you were nothing more than a possession—a prize he had claimed. There was no urgency in his movements, no hesitation. He had planned this carefully, and now, you were his.

And nothing would take you away from him.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider