SYNOPSIS: Ivy knew she’d be in the spotlight as the only female in a mostly male group. While many watched her closely, there were only a few who tried to go beyond and follow her even in her private times. One individual, hidden in the shadows, seemed ready to risk everything to get closer than anyone else—closer than she ever expected.
WARNINGS(!!!): Mentions of a stalker (sasaeng/obsessed fan), harassment, stalker break-in, unwelcome physical contact, physical altercation, lot of cursing, VERY angry scoups.
Word Count: 4k
TAGS: Heavy angst.
NOTE: This writing contains topics that some might not be comfortable reading, feel free to not read this and have a good rest of your day (PLEASE always take care of yourself first). A part will be posted as an aftermath of what happened which you will be able to read as I will not mention in detail what happens in this writing there (more of a summary without the potential triggering topics mentioned in the warning). AGAIN, please take care of yourself first. Take care and much love!
ྀི◟‿ IVYLAND MASTERLIST ྀི◟‿ IVYLAND WRITINGS
When I debuted in SEVENTEEN, I knew that the eyes of the public would be doubled when it came to me. I expected it and I prepared for it, but of course, nothing can really prepare you for the unpredictable things that could happen in life. Yet, I understood that this is what came with debuting as the only female in a mostly male group. May it be in person or through a screen, for either positive or negative reasons, I knew they would be watching.
But lately, a new pair of eyes has made its presence known.
A pair of eyes that stayed and watched within the shadows, growing closer and closer from the moment when we debuted to the present. But something has changed.
It waited in the dark, moved when I moved, following my every move.
Until it became no longer about how they would linger in the shadows—watching.
But it’s growing desire to go beyond—just watching.
“Ivy-ssi?” One of the female staff members in my solo photoshoot called out as she entered the waiting room.
Looking up from my phone, where I was busy talking with my members through our group chat, I expected instructions or directions on the flow of the shoot. But instead, in her arms was a bouquet of red roses.
“Oh?” I said in surprise as she gently placed the bouquet in my arms. “Another bouquet?”
Earlier, when I arrived at the shoot, they had given me a bouquet of marigolds as a welcome gift. So, I assumed that this was another bouquet, as some of the people that I have worked with on photoshoots have given me both a bouquet as a welcome and as a thank you.
“Actually,” she started whilst rubbing a hand on her neck. “This isn’t from us.”
“Oh? Is that so?” I replied, glancing down to examine the bouquet, trying to think of who could have sent me the bouquet.
Only one person came to mind, well, 13 people actually, but only one could've sent such a bouquet “just because.”
“Did Scoups send these?” I said with a gentle smile at the possibility.
“I’m not so sure, but it came with a card,” the staff member replied, holding out a card of the same colour as the flowers—folded.
“Thank you,” she replied with a kind smile towards the staff as she took the card in her free hand.
Soon after, the staff left the room, leaving me alone with the bouquet and the card that may hold the answer to who it was all from. Setting down the bouquet with an excited smile on my face, I grabbed my phone and immediately went to call the person whom I was suspecting. And as my phone began ringing, I excitedly opened the card.
‘You looked as beautiful as these roses today, my Ivy. I’ve always wondered if you smelled like them as well. I guess I’ll know soon. I can’t wait until we can finally be together forever.’ — From someone who admires you most.
It was like my breath was stolen from me for a moment. The world paused around me as I tried to make sense of what was written, even though I knew deep down what it indicated.
“Ivy? Darling? Are you there?” a voice snapped me out of my trance, the card falling out of my hand and into my lap.
For a minute, I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say, what to think or how to react.
“Darling?” Scoup's voice called out once again. “Did something happen?”
“Huh?” I replied in a daze.
I could feel his worry even through the phone, and I knew that if I didn't say something in the next minute, he would immediately drop everything and come to where I was.
“Is our manager there with you?” he asked again as I could hear rustling from his side.
“No, no,” I said in a panic, knowing that he was already getting ready to come to me. “I’m fine! I just dropped my food, and I blanked out for a second.”
I didn’t want to lie to him. I wanted nothing more than to tell him my increasing worry, but the message that was on the end of the card was what stopped me.
‘Let’s keep this between us, okay? You wouldn’t want anyone to harm your members, would you?’
Just this time, let me lie just this time. “I’m doing just fine here.”
“Are you sure? I can go there if you want me to,” he said, still worried. “I’m done with my part here anyway.”
“No, no! I’m really fine here, I just might need to get more snacks.” I replied, trying to laugh off the worry inside of me.
After talking for a few more minutes with Scoups and saying our goodbyes, I walked towards the trash bin that was at the corner of the room. As I continued to stare at the card and at the bouquet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just an ordinary stalker that we were all used to having.
“Please,” I said to myself as I crumpled the card in my hand. “Please don’t do anything more.”
Throwing away both the flowers and the card felt like a relief, even if it’s only a momentary one, because I didn’t know if I should expect anything more in the future or if this was only a one-time thing for this person. I couldn’t let this stop me from doing my job, so I continued on with the photoshoot like nothing was wrong.
Then came the messages and calls.
Weeks after the first incident, I didn’t receive any packages again. As we were also busy with the Japan leg of the ‘RIGHT HERE’ tour and our own schedules, I forgot that the incident happened at all. It wasn’t until I started to receive messages and calls from an unknown number at specific times of the day. When I’m out alone to go wherever, I would receive a message.
‘You look beautiful today.’
‘That sweater looks good on you. I should get that for you next time.’
‘Why are you looking around? You look cute looking for me lol’
They followed me wherever I went, watching my every move. No matter how many times I block the numbers that continue to disrupt me, they still find a way to come back. As a result, I started asking the other members of our staff to come with me everywhere I go.
Then the messages turned into calls.
A call every time that I am left alone, even for a minute or two. A call when I’m alone at my shared apartment with Scoups. A call during filming that would take away the happiness that I was starting to feel and replace it with worry and fear.
The members noticed and it was only Seungkwan that had been the one to have the courage to ask about it.
It was during our dance practice, when we had our usual five-minute break after hours of practising, that the call came. I only looked at my phone as it buzzed beside where I sat on the couch, too tired to do anything about it.
“Noona,” Seungkwan called as he took the spot next to me. “Who keeps calling you lately?”
I flipped my phone before facing him.
I could see the worry in his eyes because he knew. He knew that if that was someone I knew, I wouldn’t hesitate to answer.
“Is it a spam call?” he asked while brushing a piece of hair that stuck to my face because of sweat.
“Tell me,” he said with a manly-like voice that made me let out a small laugh. “Are they bothering you? I’ll tell them off for you.”
“Who’s bothering who?” DK suddenly chimed in, curious and worried.
“No one,” I answered while facing him, sitting up. “It’s nothing, I promise. It’s just spam calls and a fan who got a hold of my phone.”
The two of them nodded and didn’t push any further; we’ve all known each other for so long that we know when one is lying or covering something up. I also knew that Scoups had been growing more worried as the days passed, but I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I made a promise to myself that I would tell someone once this fan gets out of line.
What I didn’t know was that he was already crossing the line without me knowing.
[DECEMBER 21, 2024, Fukuoka]
It was after the second day of our Fukuoka stop when Seungcheol and I went out for dinner to celebrate the end of the Japan leg of the RIGHT HERE tour.
“I’m so full,” I said, patting my stomach as Seungcheol slipped his arms around me. We stepped out of the restaurant together, the cool night air brushing against our faces. “Their food was way too good to resist.”
“I’m glad you ate well, darling,” he chuckled, his hand resting lightly on my hips.
“Coups?” our manager called from the driver’s seat of the van, catching both our attention.
I waited by the van while Seungcheol went over, scrolling through the pictures we’d taken during dinner — and a few from earlier in the day.
Then a notification popped up on my screen.
‘You looked beautiful as the moon tonight.’
My finger hovered over the message, frozen. Before I could react, another one appeared.
‘It’s a shame you’re still with him. Should I just get rid of him? Lol’
The casual tone made my stomach drop.
I looked around, scanning the quiet street for any sign of movement. Then came another message.
‘Do you really want to see me that badly, my Ivy?’
The tiny hairs on my arms stood up as more messages followed, one after another.
‘Don’t worry too much, we’ll see each other soon.’
‘I’m excited about what we can do when we’re finally together.’
‘I’ll make sure no one gets in our way.’
A hand wrapped gently around my wrist, and I flinched.
“Hey, you okay?” Seungcheol asked, his voice full of concern as he drew me closer, his arm circling my waist. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just saw a post — you know, the usual.”
“Are you sure that’s it? Is it the calls again?” He glanced around, tension tightening his jaw.
“No, no,” I replied too fast, grabbing his free hand and squeezing it. “It’s really just a post. I promise.”
He studied my face for a moment. “You can tell me, you know.”
“I’m sure,” I said softly, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry.”
After a brief hesitation, he nodded and led me into the van. I sat beside him, but the unease lingered — a cold knot in my stomach that refused to fade.
Seungcheol took my hand again, his thumb brushing slow, steady circles against my skin. It grounded me, pulling me away from the fear clawing at the edges of my thoughts.
As the van pulled away, I turned toward the window, watching the city blur past.
And then — just for a moment — I saw it.
A dark figure was standing on the sidewalk, head tilted slightly toward our van as we drove by.
[DECEMBER 22, 2024, Fukuoka]
The third and final night of our RIGHT HERE stop in Fukuoka ended in a blur of cheers, confetti, and exhaustion. Relief, pride, and fatigue all tangled together—the familiar aftertaste of the tour’s closing night.
Dinner afterward was its own kind of ritual. The table overflowed with laughter, half-finished plates, and clinking glasses. The room buzzed with the warmth that only comes from shared exhaustion.
“We’re finally done with the Japan leg,” Mingyu sighed, leaning back beside Minghao.“Three days straight of energy I didn’t know I had.”
“Hyung, you’re just getting old,” Dino teased, earning him a light smack in the arm from Mingyu.
Across the table, Seungcheol chuckled beside me, his arm brushing against mind. “You okay?” he asked quietly, eyes soft as they stared into mine.
I smiled, nodding. “Just tired. The good kind.”
After a while, the conversation in the room shifted to drinks and post-tour plans with some sharing their interactions with fans. Seungcheol was deep in talk with one of our managers when I leaned over to him.
“I think I’ll head back first,” I whispered softly. “My head’s starting to hurt a little.”
He frowned slightly. “Want me to come with you?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Stay with the guys.”
“Okay, text me when you get to the room,” he said, squeezing my hand under the table. “And lock the door, okay?”
“I will,” I promised, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before slipping away from the table and saying goodbye to the members with a wave and some with a hug.
The hallways outside were quiet—with only the low hum of distant conversation from behind closed doors. I swiped my keycard and walked the short distance to our shared room.
The second I stepped inside, I noticed it.
It wasn’t obvious—nothing broken, nothing missing—but different. My toiletries bag was sitting open on the counter, even though I was sure I’d zipped it up before the concert. One of Seungcheol’s jackets was on the couch when it had been hanging by the door. Even my luggage that I had organized and zipped up at the corner of the room was opened and laid down in the middle of the room.
Maybe housekeeping? That was my first though but no—we’d had the “Do Not Disturb” sign up all day.
I took a cautious step inside, the faint scent of cologne and the city outside mixing in the air. My phone was in my pocket, but my hands suddenly felt too heavy to move.
“Hello?” I called quietly, half-hoping that no one would answer.
Then, from somewhere behind me, a faint shift—like fabric brushing against the carpet.
Before I could turn, a hand clamped tightly over my mouth, my entire body froze with panic surging up my throat.
“Shh,” a low voice whispered right beside my ear, the tone disturbingly calm. “I’ve been waiting for you, Ivy.”
I tried to scream, but it came out muffled under his palm. His grip was strong, pressing me back against his chest.
“Don’t move,” he murmured. “I told you we’d see each other soon.”
Then I felt it, his hands that slowly began to crept around my waist slowly moving towards my chest. Tears filled my eyes as I felt helpless at the moment, I prayed and called out for someone even if it was just in my mind.
Terror clawed at my lungs before I finally got the courage to do something, twisting in his hold, I kicked backward. My heel hit something—his leg— and his grip faltered for a split second. I stumbled out of his hold and on to the ground, gasping for air as I turned to face him.
He wore dark clothes, a mask, a cap—just enough to blur his face into a shape I couldn’t place.
I watched as he groaned, holding onto his leg before moving towards me. I continued to fight against him but he quickly got a tight hold on both of wrists while I continued to thrash around his hold as he moved on top of me.
“Shh,” he said once again, his face close to mine. “Stop fighting it.”
I shook my head as my tears continued to fall to the side of my head as I pleaded to him, “Please, don’t do this.”
“Oh but I promised you remember?” he said in a calm manner that sent chills in my spine. “I told you that we’ll go far away where no one can get between us and our love.”
“Why are you doing this?” I said with a sob as I looked at his crazed eyes.
“Because I love you, Ivy.” he said this while letting go of his hold of one of my wrists and moving to remove his cap and mask. “I’ll take care of you better than Choi Seungcheol.”
As he leaned closer towards my face, I grabbed the chance and butted my head towards his with all the strength that I could muster. I pushed him to the side, as he grabbed a hold of the shirt that I was wearing and tugged on it. I kicked him another time but on his shoulder which sent him back towards one of the tables nearby, causing a vase to fall and break on the ground.
I didn’t stop moving even with the sound of shirt ripping as I frantically ran towards the door and out the hall. At that moment, the members who I assume were done for the night were walking down the hallway and caught my figure as I staggered out of the room.
Without looking back, I ran.
The door burst open as I stumbled into the hallway, breath sharp and uneven.
“Noona!” Hoshi’s voice rang out from down the corridor. “What happened?”
The others turned immediately, their relaxed post-show chatter snapping into alarm as they rushed toward me.
“Ivy?” Jeonghan’s voice was soft but urgent. “What’s wrong?”
Before I could answer, the door behind me opened again. The man stepped out, unsteady but moving fast.
“Don’t trust them,” he shouted hoarsely. “I can protect you!”
And then—everything blurred.
Seungcheol’s voice echoed down the hall. “What the hell—?”
Before anyone could react, he was already there—crossing the distance and slamming the man to the ground. The others moved quickly, trying to pull him back as hotel security came rushing down the corridor.
I stood frozen until Vernon gently draped his jacket around my shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said quietly.
My hands trembled as I watched the scene—our managers, the guards, Seungcheol’s clenched fists streaked with red.
When they finally pulled him away, his eyes found mine. He came straight to me, voice shaking. “It’s over,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms.
My body gave in then—tears spilling, hands gripping his shirt. “I was so scared,” I managed to say, voice breaking.
“I know,” he murmured, holding me tighter. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
The members gathered close, quietly forming a wall around us. The noise of the hallway faded until it was just his heartbeat under my ear and the sound of my own breathing finally slowing.
For now—just for now—I felt safe again.
The morning light crept through the hotel curtains the next day, soft and muted—the kind that usually meant calm. But calm felt foreign to me now.
I woke to the sound of faint voices outside the room and the soft hum of the air conditioner. My body ached, not from the concert, but from the lingering tension that hadn't quite left after the events from last night.
Seungcheol was sitting by the window of our new room, his phone pressed to his ear, speaking quietly as to not wake me. His tone was measured, but I could hear the worry and the exhaustion behind it. When his eyes met mine, his voice softened immediately.
"She's awake," he said to the phone. "I'll update you later."
He crossed the room quickly towards my side after hanging up the call, sitting down slowly. "Hey, darling."
"How are you feeling?" He asked, moving to take a piece of my hair out of my face.
"Tired," I admitted. "But okay now."
He nodded, a small reassuring smile in his face. "You don't have to talk about anything right now, okay? I just want you to...rest."
But rest felt like something that was impossible for me to do at the moment. The images, the sounds, that man's voice—they lingered somewhere every time that I close my eyes. So, I reached for his hand instead.
"Yeah," he said, voice low. "Security and the police took care of everything. The guy's in custody."
I exhaled shakily, relief mixing with dread. "Does the company know?"
"They do," he said with a sigh, squeezing my hands gently. "They've been calling since early morning. Managers want to meet with us as soon as land back."
The mention of "meetings" made my stomach twist. I knew what that mean—statements, PR control, silence.
By the time the plane touched down in Seoul, the adrenaline had long worn off. All that remained was exhaustion — the kind that settled deep in the bones.
The members moved quietly through the airport, heads down, faces hidden beneath caps and masks. Even so, flashes of cameras still found their way through the crowd barriers. The incident in Fukuoka had already leaked — twisted headlines and half-true details scattered across social media overnight.
“Let’s get to the vans,” one of the managers said firmly. “No stopping.”
Seungcheol’s hand brushed against mine briefly as we walked, a silent reassurance before he moved ahead to help the others.
By the time we reached the dorms, the sky was already turning gray with dawn. Everyone looked drained. The managers told us to rest before heading into the company later that afternoon.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the open suitcase, the shadow in the room, the moment everything tilted into fear.
When I stepped into the living room, Seungcheol was already there — hoodie pulled up, coffee untouched in his hands. He looked up when he saw me.
“You should’ve slept,” I said softly.
“So should you,” he replied, managing a tired smile.
He set the mug down and stood, wrapping me in his arms. For a while, neither of us spoke — we didn’t need to. His heartbeat was steady against my ear, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
By the time the company called for an emergency meeting that evening, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones. Seungcheol sat beside me at the long conference table, his hands folded tightly in his lap. Across from us sat four executives — the same faces we’d dealt with since our dating confirmation in 2022.
They looked at us the same way they always did: polite smiles, eyes sharp with calculation.
One of them finally spoke. “We’re relieved you’re both safe, first and foremost. But we need to talk about how this incident is being handled publicly. There’s growing concern from sponsors and fans.”
Seungcheol exhaled slowly. “Concern about what, exactly? That someone broke into our room?”
“It’s not that simple,” another executive said carefully. “The timing of this… and the way the footage is circulating online — it’s reignited public conversation about your relationship. The optics aren’t ideal.”
“The optics,” I repeated under my breath, my patience thinning. “I was attacked, and you’re worried about optics?”
“Ivy,” one of them said, tone soft but firm, “we understand what you went through. But we have to consider how this affects both your public image and the group’s stability.”
I straightened in my chair. “My public image doesn’t matter more than my safety. Or his. Or any of my members.” I nodded toward Seungcheol. “We’ve both done everything you asked for since 2022 — kept things quiet, balanced the narrative, played by the rules. And yet people still found a way to twist it.”
Another manager tried to interject, but I didn’t stop.
“I’m not going to sit here and pretend this is just another scandal to ‘manage.’ You can’t keep asking us to separate our lives from the headlines when the headlines are what endanger us in the first place.”
Seungcheol placed his hand over mine under the table — silent, steady support.
“She’s right,” he said finally, his voice calm but heavy with conviction. “We’ve stayed professional. We’ve stayed respectful. And still, every time something happens, you treat us like liabilities instead of people.”
The head executive sighed. “We’re not trying to control your relationship, Seungcheol. We just need to protect—”
“Then protect us,” he interrupted. “Not by hiding us, not by pretending this didn’t happen, but by standing behind us when it does.”
Silence followed — long, uncomfortable silence. I could feel every pair of eyes flicking between us, trying to measure how far we’d go.
Finally, I spoke again, quieter this time but firm. “We’re not asking for permission to exist together. We’re asking you something that we have promised when we confirmed our relationship to the public, and that is to trust that we can love each other and still do our jobs. That shouldn’t be controversial.”
One of the younger managers looked down, the tension in his jaw softening just slightly.
“We’ll… discuss this internally,” the head executive said at last. “For now, rest. We’ll handle the media and update you both tomorrow.”
That was the closest thing to agreement we were going to get.
That night, our shared home was quiet. The members had gone home after the long flight, and the building felt too still, too fragile.
We sat together on the couch, both of us wrapped in silence for a while. The city lights outside flickered through the window, pale against the darkness.
“They’re scared,” Seungcheol said eventually. “Of losing control. Of letting us decide for ourselves.”
“Then maybe it’s time they realize they already lost that control,” I murmured.
He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing against my hand. “You were amazing in there, you know that?”
“I just said what you would’ve said if I hadn’t beaten you to it.”
He laughed softly, the sound easing something in my chest.
Then, quieter: “I don’t care what they say. I’m not going anywhere.”
I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. “Neither am I.”
Outside, the cold wind swept across Seoul’s skyline — the kind that hinted at change.
And for once, it didn’t scare me.
𓂃🖊 NOTE: This work was a very heavy one. As mentioned above, there would be another work posted on the aftermath which will be a little bit more lighthearted than this writing. Please take care of yourself always and much love!
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