A few years ago, the cup of their pack lay in pieces. A little after that, it was mended with gold - the ancient art of kintsugi, where breaks are not hidden but illuminated, made beautiful for having been broken. Now, the mended cup must prove it can hold tea. As SEVENTEEN embarks on their monumental 10th Anniversary World Tour, the fire that once shattered them returns. This time, it is not a breaking fire, but a tempering one. The pressure is immense: sleepless travel, relentless schedules, and the ghost of old fractures whispering in the chaos. Chan, the pack's sole beta and once-lonely cornerstone, is no longer on the periphery. He is woven into the centre of their bond. But when the heat rises, will the golden seams hold? Or will the mended places prove to be the most fragile? [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]

If a cup is broken, can it be fixed? Suppose you gather every last shard. You spend countless patient hours fitting them back together. You fill the cracks not with invisible glue, but with liquid gold-the ancient art of kintsugi. You do not hide the breaks. You illuminate them. The mended cup is now more beautiful for having been broken. But what then? Can it still hold scalding tea? Will it bear the heat, or will the golden seams betray it? Is it stronger at the breaks, or forever more fragile? And is the time, the pain, the hope poured into its repair worth the risk of it shattering once more? Because cups are fragile. Hearts are, too. Are his mates worthy of being trusted with his heart a second time? And has he learned the most devastating lesson of all-that sometimes, to survive, you must learn how to hold yourself? [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]

Loneliness: a state of mind linked to wanting human contact but feeling alone. Chan feels lonely. Which sounds, objectively, ridiculous. He's an idol. The moment he steps outside, he's swallowed by a horde of staff and security. He performs in sold-out stadiums to seas of screaming fans. He's part of Seventeen, one of the largest, most successful boy bands of his generation - a miracle of thirteen. He is, technically, almost never alone. His work is his life, and his life is twelve other people. Alphas and omegas who orbit each other with an instinctual gravity, he watches from the periphery. So the statement feels juvenile. A bratty complaint. And yet. The loneliness isn't in the lack of bodies, but in the quality of the space between them. Is it because he's the maknae? The only 99-liner without a same-aged friend in the group? Or is it the simpler, more brutal truth he circles back to every time? He is a beta. The only one in a pack of alphas and omegas. And in the silent calculus of pack dynamics, sometimes that just means you're alone in a room full of people who are supposed to be yours. [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]

Five years ago, Lee Chan presented as an omega on the eve of his promised bonding to pack alpha Choi Seungcheol. That same night, he was cast out as a traitor. Now, he survives in the city's underbelly - a ghost running deliveries for gangs, his body crumbling under the weight of suppressants, his heart armoured in razor wire. When a territorial war throws him back into the Choi Pack's path, they find not the bright-eyed boy they loved, but a feral, wounded creature who looks at them like they're the monsters. The truth, when it unravels, is a poison they all must drink. Chan has known it for years. And forgiveness? That's a language he unlearned to survive. Reclamation is the slow, agonising archaeology of trust, where every scar must be mapped, and love must learn to grow around the ruins. [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]

Lee Chan was never meant to be anything more than a treaty - the youngest prince of Silla, married off to the cold Crown Prince of Xu for the sake of peace. He arrived expecting nothing and received exactly that: silence, loneliness, a husband who would not look at him. So he built a life. A garden. Music. Friends who saw him. He became someone worth being, all without the man who was supposed to love him. And Minghao watched. From windows, from shadows, from behind walls built from grief and fear. He watched Chan transform, and something inside him cracked. This is a story about loneliness and survival. About walls and windows. About two people who learned to try - every day, even when it was hard - and discovered that sometimes, the smallest moments are the ones that save you. [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]

Before the ring hits the hardwood floor, before six voices freeze in stunned silence, there's a slow unravelling no one notices. Families don't break in a single moment - they wear down in quiet places, in small ways, in the spaces between laughter. Lee Chan has always been the dependable maknae, the one who bounces back, the one who laughs even when the joke is about him. It's easy to assume he's fine. It's easy to miss the signs when he isn't. None of them sees the crack forming. None of them realise how close he is to breaking. Not until the moment it finally happens. This is the story of what leads to that break - and the way seven people learn how to hold each other together again. [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]

📢 REQUESTS OPEN! 📢 I'm opening requests for Seventeen imagines, so feel free to drop your ideas! Whether you want fluff, angst, smut, or something completely unique, I'm here to bring your favorite scenarios to life! cover by:- @misanaato

Lee Chan doesn't notice the danger at first. Most people don't - not when it smiles, not when it blends in, not when it moves like a shadow wearing familiarity as skin. By the time he understands, it's already too late. Now the maknae is spiralling into a nightmare no one else seems to see. And the worst part? He isn't sure whether calling for help will save him... or destroy everything he has left. [Cross-posted on AO3 under the same username]