#mapsu fic

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous |

⏮️ chapter 13: amaide ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2670

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: THIS IS IT! THE END IS NIGH. He’s a long one, that’s for sure. Thank you for anyone who has stuck through and tolerated every drawn out update - I appreciate it very much and hope you enjoyed it anyway xx

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui, @noniesgirl, @gyubagebin @kookiedesi​ @binniebutter​ @wonwooslibrary​​

You sit at the train station, the rain bucketing and splashing your legs. You can barely stand to check your phone.  Already, you can see the headlines: Princess To-Be Disappointing No-Show. That and the tens of voicemails probably piling up in your message bank. The disapproving hum of your mother, the squealing worry of Mingyu and Minghao. Soonyoung’s barely restrained desperation mixed with understanding only he could have. The guilt churns thick and slow in your stomach, a monster ready to rear its ugly head. But, amongst all that and your blurring tears, you find one you don't expect. Jihoon.

Your finger slips on a raindrop as you tap it.

“Hey. Uh, look. Whatever you're feeling and whatever you decide, it'll be okay. We'll still be here for you at the end of the day. But please, come home. We're all worried. Your grandmother is still waiting for you at the embassy. Everyone is. But, I'll be at home - uh, my place if you need me. Please, just be safe.”

There's another one, from an unknown number.

“Y/n,” your grandmother. “I know you're scared. I'm sorry if you ever felt like I was pushing you into this. So much has been riding on your shoulders, all so soon. And looking back, we should have waited. I should have waited. As much as I may not have looked it, I always cared. You’re family, our legacy. I'll still love you, whatever choice you make.  You could never disappoint me - anyone. I love you.”

That's all you needed. Mingyu's attempt at motivation could fall flat, Minghao terrible with your specific type of sympathy. Even Soonyoung’s familiar reassurance or anything your parents could ever say wouldn't sink in. They were all you wanted to hear. Grabbing your bag, you take off running, back to the bus stop back into the city. You might never make it. But you'll give it a damn shot. Violently struggling to tap on your transport pass, you slump into a window seat by the front, sighing in relief as it begins to putter away.

The scenery gets gradually slower and drivers’ thick brows furrow. You sit up wearily as we splutter to a stop, the air brakes whooshing anyway.

“W-why are we stopping?”

He turns to the few of us seated. “We've broken down. Probably the oil or something. I’ve called the depot and we’ll have a replacement shortly. Just sit tight.”

“We - what?” you squeak, getting up into the aisle. “No, no no no! I've got to be at the Amaide embassy! I have a ball to go to!”

He shrugs, opening the doors to let air in. “Sorry, Cinderella.”

You climb out the vehicle, out into the rain again. The road is straight and relatively unmarred. You'll have to run. Shouldering your bag oddly, slinging both straps of the duffle over each shoulder you start to sprint.

It's a bad, short lived sprint. Why you don’t think of a taxi is beyond you.

Your chest is heaving with pain, and so are your legs, crying out for relief. You look to the sky, unforgiving and heavy. You throw your side into a wall as you drag yourself along the footpath. You'll never make it.

“Oh - my - god. This is - how I die. Dead in a - in a puddle.” You sniffle through heaving breaths.

Leaving against the wall, you try holding back another sniffle before giving up, rubbing at your cold, running nose instead.

A car honks. Dropping your head down, you see the official envoy pull up, the door kicking open and the drivers’ window roll down. Junwoo and...Jihoon?

“Come on, princess. You're late!” the bulky man calls with a smirk.

You push off, throwing yourself into the leather seats. Jihoon is across from you, sitting neatly in his simple black suit. God, he looks good in it.

“Thank you for finding me.” You smile.

“Well, after that text and then you didn't show up, something had to have gone wrong. And Junwoo was going out to look for you anyway. Queen's orders.”

You sink into your seat as he passes you a towel. “Gotta love Grandmother.”

“She wasn't giving up on you too soon.” The stocky guard in front says through the open partition. You catch his smile in the rear view mirror. “Especially when Jihoon showed up.”

You pat your arms down and rub furiously at your hair. The cold is only just starting to sink in, wetting the leather under you and sending a shiver through your torso. Jihoon sighs and tosses another fluffy towel over your legs. You slide side to side on the seat a little as Junwoo zips through town while trying to be reasonable.

“Oh well, I'll definitely be making an entrance. Not the prettiest thing to ever get out of an Amaide envoy. Certainly not very princess-like.” You chuckle, throwing the first towel helplessly round your shoulders.

Jihoon’s gaze is warm on you, for once resting for more than a few moments in your direction. His pitch black hair is rustled from the gale that the rain brought with it.

“You're always beautiful, Princess.” He hums.

You laugh breathlessly, ducking your head. He was always so soft-spoken but never failed to make you at least a little flustered.

“How come you were ready so soon?” You squint at Jihoon.

“I was ready even before you messaged me. Call it intuition, but I had a feeling I’d end up here tonight, whether you knew it or not.”

The embassy houses are starting to pop up and you know you're close, even though the rain hasn't let up. You would never have made it in time with your ridiculous idea.

Junwoo pulls up an umbrella and the lot of you usher yourselves inside. Jihoon is swept away in the backstage madness, with not even a chance of goodbye. Soonhee is standing in her soft champagne dress, sash in red over her shoulder and across her middle. She smiles warmly and you don't care how much her dress costs for once as you barrel into her. She makes a soft grunt with the force but delicately wraps her arms around you.

“Thank you for not giving up on me. Sorry I'm late.” You mumble into her shoulder.

“Of course. You're a Park at heart. You're strong enough to make the right decision. It may not have been easy or kind and it might have taken a little while, but you're here.” She says haughtily. “Now, I’ve stalled for as long as I can but that means you're going to have to go out there as you are. There's no time left.”

How did everyone but yourself know you were gonna be here? 

You pull back to look at her with furrowed brows. “Are you sure you can't do any more? I don't want to go out like this for you or Amaide.”

Soonhee shakes her head. “I'm sorry. But, I think this will do. It’s...how do you say, authentic. I am glad and incredibly proud that my people will be in your hands.”

Soonyoung has wormed his way back behind the heavy velvet curtain. He giggles at the sight of you.

“Hey Boss! Bit late?”

“Just a little. Weather is vicious.” You shrug.

He slings an arm around you, rubbing fondly at your hair under the towel. “Say what you feel. It’ll come out right. See you after.”

You swallow and nod. Soonyoung gathers the queen up with Junwoo and they both exit down a short hall to the main ballroom. You sling the towel round your neck for later. Someone would announce you when you were ready. And you had to be ready now. You glance to an attendant to your left and nod resolute, heaving a calming breath.

You hear your name and the curtain pulling away to warm bright lights and a podium ornately carved with lemon tree motifs - you know, you watched them pull it out from storage. There’s the violent, sickening shutter of cameras but you hold firm, plastering on a nervous smile, your towel slung round your shoulders.

Your grip is tight on the wood as you lean into the mic. “Hello. Good evening. I apologise for the wait - the weather is a bit horrendous.” A smattering of laughter from press and guests. The lights aren’t blinding but you’re trying not to focus on the many faces on you. “Thank you for attending tonight. Amaide’s freedom and independence has always been our pride. But, I understand if that’s not really why you’re here. And that sort of sucks. Because our country and our people should not boil down to the latest tabloid gossip. We have a thriving tourism and agriculture sector and are one of the few modern societies with a very active and well-functioning monarchy - and a matriarchal one at that. We should be celebrating its freedom and everything that makes it what it is. But, I digress.

“As of half an hour ago I was sitting at a train station in the pouring rain, running away from all of this. And think about it, three months ago, I didn’t even know about this world. And I didn’t think I was ever going to be ready. You’ve all seen my face more in these last few months than anyone ever has all my life. These events have turned the lives of myself and everyone I care about upside down. They have borne this mess none of us ever asked for. I love them all so much that I didn’t want to ruin my home.

“But - oh but. Amaide is home for millions of people. And it could be my home too. I mean, you all just heard me wax poetic about a place I’ve never been. But, it is part of who I am. Who I am going to be. I would never dream of hurting it. I’m so desperate to take care of my home, always have been.

“So with that in mind, I make my claim as Princess and heir apparent to Amaide’s throne - to the future.”

You smile and the delegates make raucous applause. Camera shutter click and flash but you hold steady. You have claimed your birthright. Now it's time to make the right impression for once.

You tip your head. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to dry off a bit before I catch the flu! Please, enjoy your evening.”

You’re ushered off to the side stage then around the back to servants quarters. Antoni is violently brandishing a round brush and Dyson Air Wrap like a club.

“Where is the Princess! Chop chop!” He cries out.

Massive, calloused hands are firmly on your shoulder blades and shove you into his direction - damn Junwoo, enjoyed any pain that you endured. His eyes light up then he goes pasty.

“This? This is my canvas? Ey, I have my work cut out, huh?” He shoots you a look. “Always the hard road, hmm Princess? Come come, we fix.”

You are whirled up the staircase where Antoni makes quick work of you. The gown fits perfectly, all those fittings paying off in the speedy transformation. Antoni knows what he’s doing, determined as he works around you, drying your hair out for some more control.

“I try to keep you a little natural - we want a good, open impression of you, Princess. Looks can be everything, huh?”

Your hair draped behind your ears and up off your neck in twists and layers where you didn’t know where your hair began and ended. A glittering hair comb, part of the private collection, just like the heavy set necklace that rested against your collarbone, dazzling and weighty. Antoni claps his hands, triumphant. “You are done - beautiful! My work is perfect! Come, the queen will give tiara.”

The embassy is no longer daunting, the staircase not a passage to doom. You turn to Antoni and tip your head.

“Thank you, for your help tonight.”

He scoffs and waves you off. “Is honour, Princess. I must go and ready myself for the people. They will all want to know who dressed the future queen of Amaide.”

You laugh as he whirls back out the way he came and you look to the attendant again, motion to call.

“Announcing Princess Y/N, of Amaide.”

The red curtains part and you step back into the light.

The queen holds a sparkling tiara, the most stunning thing you’d ever seen. This, you hadn't organised. Your grandmother was quite secretive about this part, insisting it was something she must do alone.

She raises it and you tip your head down so that she could place it on your head. “This was my first tiara, also gifted by my grandmother at my coming out ball. I was not meant to be queen. Neither were you. Now look at where we are. Now you must shine.”

A round of applause and your sight falls on your mother's eyes glassy and red as she smiles, her applause one of the few that mattered at that moment.

When you step to the main floor, you are swarmed by diplomats and the like with congratulations. Soonyoung is by your side in a heartbeat to mitigate them as quickly as possible, while turning the lights on even more and the strings rising in. A lot of greetings and thank you’s and “look forward to discussing the topic of choice with you at a later date.”

Then, as soon as you’d finished, the people fell away and you spot Jihoon by a pillar, close to the string orchestra. Of course he was where the music was.

I sidle up next to him, watching the orchestra. “Evening.”

He glances at you and smiles. “Evening, Princess.”

“How’s your night been?”

“I did meet the conductor here. Got some tips, had a chat. I can keep myself busy.”

You mock frown. “That’s the conductor of Amaide’s Philharmonic Orchestra, you know - the queen pulled out all the stops. But, I had sort of hoped you would be at least a little bit bored. What am I supposed to do to top that for someone like you?”

“Not sure. Maybe become princess?” Jihoon smirks.

“You’re annoying. Lee Jihoon, will you do me the honour of being my first dance partner?” You pout up at him a little, clasping your hands in your lap. “I saved it for you. Even over my own parents!”

“Of course. How can I deny that?”

He guides you gently out to the mosaic floor, settling you in front of him. In your time training and with Jihoon as a music major, you yourself have come to appreciate the string set playing tonight - you might not know the song, but it’s very beautiful and fits the energy of the room. He starts with a simple, not very royal, sway. With your meticulously manicured hands slung up round his neck, you let the fact that this is your first dance as princess, in public, cameras shuttering only metres away fall to the back of your mind. You’re happy that this moment would be one of the first pictures for the news outlets. You wanted it documented.

“Are you sure you’re okay with a princess as a potential girlfriend? We’re very prim and proper and not very fun. We certainly shouldn’t be going out for fried chicken and drinks on a weekly basis.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m sure you can make an exception.”

“For you?” You quirk a brow.

Jihoon gives you an unimpressed look. “Yeah, I guess for me.”

“Well, of course then!” You laugh. “Anything for you!”

And after all this, you really mean it. He grits his teeth and grins, tightening his grip on you and giving you a forceful spin that has you cackling. Jihoon doesn’t even get tangled in your dress!

“I didn’t know you could dance.” You chirp.

“I’m a music major. I’ve got rhythm.”

“Shut up.”

final notes: well, here we are. the end of an excessively drawn out two...three? year journey. i hoped you enjoyed it as much as i did. and i certainly hope i did justice any sort of expectation you may have had walking into this. thank you so much for all the support, i promise it did not go amiss! who knows? maybe i might pull a “princess diaries 2: the royal engagement” just to be funky...

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #seventeen smau #seventeen au #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #jihoon au #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #jihoon smau #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fic #woozi au #woozi scenario #woozi imagine #woozi smau #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 12: elsa ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1803

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: I shit you not, have 500 words left of this and then I will never be opening this document again.

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui, @noniesgirl, @gyubagebin @kookiedesi​ @binniebutter​

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

You’ve never been so “invested” in your royal role. It shocks even Soonhee how much time you spend pouring over private diaries and law Bills. The one common denominator being anything to do with royal ascension. You’re trying so hard to be a sponge for all this, but it’s not that it’s not sticking. It’s that there is nothing there to stick. No queen has decided not to take the throne. Because they all grew up knowing it was rightfully theirs - the expectation was always there. You can’t help but resent your mother a little bit. All the women on that side of the family really. Because you were given options and yet you still can’t get out. It’s frustrating reading the reverence and honour all the ancestors have for their future role when all you want to do is throw in the towel and hit up some fried chicken on the way out. You constantly wish you’d never met your grandmother. 

Minghao is concerned about your well being. After all, you are throwing your whole being into getting out of something your were pretty much born for. You’ve snuck artefacts out of the archives multiple times in the weeks leading up to now. Something that’s just not like you - you were studying art history, you knew the lawful and ethical reasons why that wasn’t done. You’re on your last diary when Minghao hangs back after your seminar.

“Hey.”

You look at him, puzzled. “Hmm?”

“Are you sure you’re okay with all of this? The investigating and the sneaking around. How desperate are you to reverse this?”

You draw yourself up straight with your aching shoulders. “Very much so. How can you say that? Hasn’t this whole thing caused us all enough trouble?”

“But, isn’t that to be expected? Y/n, this is your family’s legacy. A whole country is depending on you. Do you understand this responsibility?” He says it softly, as if to try and ease the blow.

But, as much as you love Minghao dearly, his words never quite land very well with you. You don’t speak the same emotional language. Something logical and level headed from him can seem heartless and callous. He always means well.

You snap the diary shut and scowl up at him. “I do understand. Why the hell do you think I’m working this hard to make sure it runs smoothly! I will not ruin a country! With my rule or without. I want to give the people of Amaide the best chance they have for a future that doesn’t have me at its head. Because, frankly, that country has all but ruined mine. I am trying, so hard, ‘Hao.”

His brows pinch with emotion under his fringe and he sits back next to you in the room - there is another class soon, you shouldn’t be discussing this in here.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you working this hard for nothing. I don’t want you to accept your fate, I want you to choose it. It’s hard, that’s all.”

You smile, wane. “Thanks Haohao. But I am choosing. It’s just…different, that’s all.”

It’s hard to make yourself smile. To get through the few lessons left with the queen. She’s insisted on taking over from Soonyoung and you’re glad. You don’t think you can lie to Soonyoung about this seeing as he’s become such a valued friend in this shitshow of a time. Now it’s about fine tuning. Things like politics and the less savoury side of ruling. How much trust has to be earned and how others need to keep it, not the other way around. The scandal with Antoni was an early and hard earned lesson in that. As much as you want to tune out, you can’t help but take it in - can any of this help you escape?

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, finding it just as empty as the answers you tried in vain to find. You had no choice but to accept it. Accept the crown and try and function the best you could. Hope and pray the hours of lessons would help. Finally, you roll onto your side and send Jihoon a message. He hasn’t questioned anything once. A pillar in the three month long storm.

Cool, way to make me not want to throw up. But you knew he was right. Mingaho had said the same. The queen has been drumming it into you the moment she walked into your life. A choice had to be made.

The queen stares at you in the final gown, the robe only to be pulled out on the day. Tomorrow.

“You look beautiful.” She murmurs, hands to her lips.

You look in the mirrors as well. Shoulders back, chin held high. That haughty tilt that you had been trained into that felt oh so natural now. You looked like a princess.

“I guess I do. Are you sure you can do this?” You ask aloud, under your breath, barely a whisper on your lips.

“Of course you can.” Your grandmother speaks and the room echoes. “You have Park blood and we have trained you with every inch of power we have.”

“What if I couldn’t.” You blurt.

“Then you would have to make a formal statement renouncing your claim to the throne. Then we would work it out from there.”

Work it out from there? As in there was no failsafe if you didn’t? You screw your face up and look at her from the reflection. “Even with my track record with the press? And the two scandals in three months? You’re gonna trust me with that?”

She waves dismissively and shrugs. “I have to. It is protocol.”

You bite your tongue. Hard.

Soonhee returns to the table of accessories, glancing her fingers over a heavy set necklace. So many diamonds you didn’t know what to do with yourself. It was at least 200 years old. Just sitting there on a table.

She doesn’t look up from them. “Junwoo will arrange to pick you up at 5pm sharp.”

Panic! Stress!

“No!” She whirls on you as you cry out. You sober and clear your throat. “I, what I mean is, no thank you. Mum is taking me. I need a bit of peace on the way. I promise I won’t make any unsolicited burger or fried chicken detours.”

She sighs. “I understand. Well, I will see you then. You are dismissed. Get a good night’s sleep. It may be the last one you get for a while.”

With that she turns out the door and down the hall, her heels back to clicking like ominous metronomes. You heave a breath you can no longer afford, the metal of the jewelry warming against your skin. She was about as helpful as a bloody jellyfish. You wave over stylists to get you undressed, the figurative weight on your chest not easing with the removing of diamonds and corsetry. You rush your way back down to the archives, one more valiant hope in hell that you will find your answer amongst the words of Amaide’s history.

But your desperation tips over the edge the night before the big day - that very night. When you achingly close the last document that could possibly help you. Alone in the archives, cold and dry.

Nothing.

If you did what you wanted to do, you were going to destroy a country. Millions of lives in your hands because you won’t say yes and put on the damn crown. You would obliterate centuries of tradition and the future of Amaide as the world knew it.

So it’s a quiet ride home, wearily gnawing your lips and wringing your wrists, your mind empty of everything possible but the aching feeling of fear and worry. Not even able to pinpoint it to a thought, just a mass of it, seeping into every notion and heartbeat that rippled through you.

Your mother hums and nods knowingly and you hear a murmur as you head down the short hall, something about the upcoming gala being very stressful. As if she ever had a clue. She didn’t even touch the crown. She still corners you as you unpack from today.

“Hey.”

You hum a reply, unable to face her. Your face would say too much and not enough and everything wrong. Your mouth would be worse.

“You all ready for tomorrow?” She murmurs, leant on the door frame. “Big day.”

“I know.”

“I’m really proud of you, you know. You’re taking on a big responsibility. Something I…something I turned my back on. I hope you understand the gravity of this. I never did, and it’s probably for the best.”

You still don’t turn to face her, only laying your palms flat against your dresser. It’s taking everything in you to coil tightly and not spring her to shreds. She sighs.

“Okay, I’ll let you get to sleep. Are you coming with us? I think they want photos done beforehand.”

Panic! Stress!

“I-I no, no. I’m being picked up - Antoni needs to get me ready. He’s, uh, being fussy. Um.”

“I see. Well, good night baby.”

The next morning is empty and dead quiet, grey, overcast light slicing your eyes. Great. It’s going to fucking rain. You swing to sit up, hunched over the edge of your bed.

Now that you’re alone, you’ve the privacy to melt into a puddle on your bedroom floor and cry. Loud, wheezing, ugly sobs. Snot clogging your throat, salt stinging your eyes shut. Spiraling and hyperventilating to the point of no return. Eventually it was no thought, just crying. Your heart had hit rock bottom as you curl over your knees to bury your face in the carpet.

You had no way out of this. Every legal avenue had been searched. Even those outdated precedence, hoping it would be under a guise of honouring tradition. No queen had ever just said no and not had an heir ready to take their place. You scream and scream, rasping, cursing your mother and your grandmother. Why could she not have just said yes. Why could she not have just said no!

You were growing a headache now. You grapple at your bedsheets and crawl to your feet, eyeing your phone and the bag sitting at the foot of your bed. Last resort.

“Hi Cheollie!”

“Hey! Are you okay.”

Seungcheol always saw through everything. A big brother you never got, a cousin on your dad’s side you could rely on. You never saw him often but he seemed to know you.

“I - not really. Can you pick me up from the train? I need to get out of here. Now.”

“Of course. Tell me where and when.”

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #seventeen smau #seventeen au #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #jihoon au #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #jihoon smau #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fic #woozi au #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi smau #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 11: anna ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1840

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: masterlist has been given its final chapter update! soon two years of this bloody thing will come to an end.

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui, @noniesgirl, @gyubagebin

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Mingyu’s pep talk adrenaline drains away the moment the lift doors close and the metal box begins to rise.

It’s all happened so fast these last few days. Mingyu had told you that two royal attendants had been to the apartment. Tried to make themselves take up as little room as possible while they briefed Jihoon on how to conduct himself during this scandal. You looked down at the heavy cream envelope holding the official invitation for the Amaide Gala or better known as your coming out event to polite society. So much no one ever asked for. You jump as the elevator stops and the doors slide open. Two music students stop their conversation to gawk at you and it takes everything not to just rudely barge through and make a run for it.

Polite etiquette though has you tipping your head in greeting and stepping smoothly around them, take a brisk walk to Jihoon’s usually booked studio.

Carefully you knock on the studio door - it’s an ugly grey-teal that is only seen in educational settings, as if it will somehow soothe. How damn wrong could these designers be? He opens it enough to peer around it in a rust red hoodie. Jihoon’s brows shoot up into his fringe.

“Oh. Hi Y/N.”

You smile weakly, tucking your hands behind you. “Hi Jihoon. How are you doing?”

“Good, thank you. Come in?”

He steps aside and  you instantly bolt for your usual place on the edge of the sofa. The place is cleaner than last time. So he’s either cleaned or Vernon hasn’t been by lately. In a panic, you drop the invite back in your bag. Play it by ear.

He resumes his place at the soundboard, layers of audio cuts lined up on the screen. The music major doesn’t turn back though, in favour of staring at you, elbows on his knees.

“I, um, came to see how you were. I hope those advisors weren’t too ridiculous - I know they can be. I can’t believe they just barged in - I really didn’t want you involved in any of the publicity control at all. You’re sensible and keep to yourself. I trust you! Have you been okay? Left alone? Do you need any sort of security?” It all comes flooding out at once, leaving you breathless and a little flushed in the face.

He breathes out a laugh and grins. “No. No muscle men needed. I can handle it. I know you’ve always meant well. This isn’t your fault.”

You scowl. “It is-”

“No. It isn’t. This is all just a casualty of having this thrust on you.” Jihoon protests firmly, rolling forward on his office chair to rest a hand on your knee. Physical affection is so hard pressed from Jihoon - it sends a current rippling through you, warm and wanting under the skin. “It’s okay.”

“I - okay. I’m glad you haven’t been scared off by it all.” You laugh, a little forced.

He eases up on the intensity and drops his gaze, his grip loosening on your knee. You miss it somehow and it hasn’t even really left. “Takes a lot more than that to put me off you, Princess.”

You feel as if you’ve overstayed your welcome though - don’t want to take any more from him. So damn selfish. So you stand, biting back a wince as his hand falls away.

“Well, I was only popping in, so I’ll leave you to it. Mingyu’s cooking me seaweed soup tomorrow night, so I’ll see you then!”

He looks up, mouth ajar. "I - wait."

You turn in the doorway, waiting as asked. You shoulder your bag carefully, a pair of heels slotted inside next to your laptop and tombs of Amaide law you were still researching. Some designer your grandmother gave you and therefore hundreds of dollars and hundreds of years you don't trust yourself with. You trust yourself less when Jihoon looks like that though, something unsure sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"You okay?" You ask.

"Yeah. Do you want to grab some coffee with me?" He says, back straightening.

Your eyes fly wide and you step back in, hovering hopefully in the ajar doorway. "Sure? When?"

He stands up and starts turning off dials and rushing to shut the piano. "Now, if you can? I was about to finish up soon anyway. Could you give me a minute to shut up and-"

You grin and shut the door, dropping your bag to the sofa. The dress isn’t going anywhere. You’re not scheduled until this afternoon, so they can see it against the lighting of the embassy. Yes, you know you’re making excuses. "I'll give you a hand, don't worry."

You’re in the same place as you were last time you grabbed coffee with someone - Soonyoung. But now, you were with someone far more nerve wracking yet exciting. His ears and nose were red from the cold and you’d teased him at the counter as soon as you’d noticed. But you weren’t shy or bumbling as before - it felt easier but not quite natural. Jihoon grumbled about the weather turning but didn’t take it badly.

“Hey, I actually wanted to ask you something.” You say, fiddling with the bracelet dangling on your wrist.

A family heirloom, the royal family’s crest as a charm. Both the chain and the charm were different metals, seeing as you preferred one over the other. It looked a little ugly like that but you didn’t care. Fitting for how this had all come about.

“Hmm?” He looks at you, brows raised - he looks a little elvish now.

“I uh, was wondering if you wanted to be one of my guests to the gala? I mean, Mingyu and ‘Hao are already invited, but…I, we’ll I wanted to ask you too. You don’t have to! And I know you’re super busy! But if you want to, it would be nice to see another friendly face.” You stutter, your shoulders up by your ears.

He chuckles and nods. “Of course I’ll come. Two weeks away, right?”

You hum but try not to dwell too much on it. You pull out the formal invitation and push it across the sticky table and around your cup of coffee - oatmilk is very in now, even Soonie drank it.

“This, uh, has all the details you’ll need for it - dress code, address, times, blah blah blah. But Mingyu and Minghao said they would be going as well, so tag along with them if you need to.” You babble.

Jihoon perks up gratefully and tucks it into his laptop bag so it lays flat.

“Thanks.”

You glance his fingertips with yours, feeling that warm zing settling into you as you both stand outside the café.

“Hey, I’ve got a dress fitting for this I have to get to, but like I said, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nods, nose getting bitten by the cold and his hands jammed in his hoodie. “Yeah, see you then. It was nice to see you.”

You smile. “You too.”

You turn and call for Jungwoo, biting your lip to stifle a giggle or anything that gives you away. You have to be careful that you don’t daydream your way to the car in case you stack it or bear your serious case of lovesick.

Jungwoo knows all though, smirking under his sunglasses - it’s overcast!

“Don’t let the queen see that. You have been doing very well the last few weeks.”

You turn to switch your shoes to heels, turning out one of the archive books next to you to multitask. Bit of light reading seeing as this is a fairly modern volume with no need for translation.

This gown is far more modern and designer than the last. But the train is dramatic and the only traditional aspect you currently have. At least it’s in a sensible colour - a white organza and lace over top. You were a little scared it would be lemon yellow, if your grandmother had a say. Probably claim some crap about how it would be paying homage to our agricultural backbone and legacy. Soonhee huffs at you as you fuss with the off the shoulder sleeves in draping organza ribbons.

“Leave it. We’re working on this so you don’t have to do that the whole night.” She snaps from her seat by the garden window.

“But don’t you want it adjusted to where I feel comfortable? We’ll never know if I don’t.” You retort from the raised base.

She huffs again and tips her nose up haughtily but says nothing.

Still, you have curiosities. “Grandmother, why does this design look so new? And not yellow? I’ve never seen so much tulle in all my life.”

“You are the vision of the modern future. Of the youth. It is fitting that you dress of the time. There will be enough tradition at the gala without bringing attire into it.”

She falls quiet and you hold your breath every time a pin comes near you. Pleats and darts are made, measurements noted around you like some mannequin. Boning to my waist is chalked on in blue. It sounds like the tulle is going to tie and drape like a weaving flat knot over the boning and corsetry.

You catch Soonhee’s eye in the mirror, glassy and warm. You frown. Where was all this emotion coming from? This bloody woman was a stone wall of tea at the best of times.

“Grandma?”

She clears her throat and sits to attention. Didn’t even falter at the name. “Apologies. It’s just… you look beautiful. Like a true princess. Nothing like that unrefined girl I met in fall. She would never have made it this far. Park genes run true in you after all.”

You can taste the bitter bile in the back of your throat, a chill setting in your heart. You turn your eyes back to the trio of mirrors in front of you. Is that what she saw? Where the outfits and the exasperation stemmed. Because she never liked you in the first place? It’s like she’s begging for you to pull out of all this! The room is too cold now and yet too hot. There isn’t enough air in the dressing room and it takes everything you’ve got not to savagely rip the couture fabric from your body. Etiquette runs deep now, so you turn back and step down from the platform.

“Right. I see. It is getting late, is it not? I have three more fittings for this and assessments to do.” You lie cooly.

She sobers and nods. “So we do. Plenty of progress has been made. You’re dismissed for today.” Soonhee stands and pauses in the doorway, stoic and elegant as always. “We will resume your archival studies tomorrow. There is much you must see before the gala.”

The moment she vanished to the hall, you sag in place and hiss to be freed from the dress. Freed from this fucking mess.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #seventeen smau #seventeen au #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #jihoon au #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #jihoon smau #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fic #woozi au #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi smau #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 10: merida ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1778

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: oi @wonwooslibrary​ told you :p

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui, @noniesgirl, @gyubagebin

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

The phone call to Mingyu is a tough one, the lead up spent pacing your room far too late at night. You even wrote out points of contention like some public relations specialist. Your grandmother would be proud.

The notes sit on your desk, ripped from a notebook. Mingyu picks up after the third ring and your stomach drops so quickly you have to take a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Hey.” He says slow and guarded.

Damn. You don’t get that reception often and it hurts, like an icicle stab right between your ribs.

“Uh hi. Thanks for picking up.” You say quickly, your words running over each other and colliding in your mouth.

“Sure.”

He knows why you’re calling. Duh. And knowingly lets you pull your shit together and apologise.

“‘Gyu, I’m sorry for getting your family mixed up in this so badly. You know I never meant to. I - It’s gotten all so complicated. And the stakes are so high. I should have been more careful and considerate of others despite my own insecurities. And I will be. Anything I can do to remedy this and I will. I’ll be having the same chat with Jihoon about this as well. You will not be in any royal shitshow any longer - no one. Again, I’m sorry.” You exhale heavily, empty and deflated - you’ve said your piece now, the ball’s in Mingyu’s court now.

There’s a brief, dry chuckle. “Wow. Who are you and what have you done with y/n, my walking meltdown? Those princess lessons really have done something. Of course I forgive you. Thank you for apologising.”

You smile and perk up. “Really? Like actually? Grandma is putting out a press statement tomorrow morning to dispel all of this as well. The Queen’s word is final, after all. I just…”

You hesitate to divulge your grand plan. Would it be worth it to say anything? Your hasty pipe dream? Fuck it, this is Mingyu we’re talking about! Best friend and level head number one (of two) You stand up and scrunch your notes up, shooting and missing the bin.

“What is it?” Mingyu says gently, cutting through your thoughts.

He eases the truth from you as if coaxing a kitten out from under the bed. Seeing as you’ve grown up together, it shouldn’t be hard.

“I’m going to try and find a way to get out of this. The whole being a princess thing. Too much has happened for this to be worth it or continue. The Queen cannot be trusted with you guys - my friends. My life.” You chew on your lip. “I just have to do it lawfully. Without, y’know, destroying a whole country.”

You laugh thinly, a thread of hysteria weaved in it. Mingyu goes quiet for a long while after a mild hum of acknowledgement. You flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and the harsh light. You need to clean out your lightbulb cover, you note idly as you wait for your best friend to process this.

“Wow. No pressure then.” He says finally.

You groan, loud and dramatic. “As if I need more homework.” You roll over then, pulling your phone away to check the time. 1am. “Shit, yikes. I better let you go. It only took me all night to get a damn grip and call you.”

He laughs harder this time, loud and proper before ringing off. Now you can rest a little easier. One down, too many to go.

From now on you work furiously on your royal studies, spending a little more time to understand the matriarchal system that underpins Amaide. Anything to get the answers you were so desperately looking for. So it’s a dream come true when the queen decides a new lesson is in order. Amaide Embassy Archives.

“There is a temperature controlled archive beneath the embassy. There is a far more extensive collection in the catacombs underneath Amaide’s parliament, of course. These you will certainly see once you are crowned and go on royal tour. House minutes for the last 670 years and every law declaration ever made. There are also personal documents such as royal diaries and marriage certificates. Riveting, I assure you.”

Goodness and she sounded serious about that too. You groan internally as you follow her down the end of the east wing to an alcove. Behind a floor to ceiling tapestry of a lemon tree, turned family tree is a door. Fairly modern compared to anything else you’d seen architecturally in the embassy.

It’s a dry cold as you descend a tightly winding staircase, cool white light running along either side of the flooring. Soonhee’s heels click mutely over the stone. It breaks out into a little foyer, a table to the right with a logbook of sorts and sets of fabric gloves. In front is a frosted glass wall with a glass door. All the frames are heavily reinforced and there is a key pad on the door frame. You are pleased with yourself that you forgot to put your notebook and pen aside before leaving the tea room. Grandma signs the book and gestures for you to do the same. Your juvenile handwriting still puts you off next to hers. Certainly the type of woman to have a pen license. Gloves are handed to you and she punches in a key code, the door automatically sliding open. It appeared to be a long cellar with high ceilings, metal shelving holding documents and artefacts running the length of the space.

“Familiarise yourself with the history of our illustrious country.” She says simply.

You’re pretty much foaming at the mouth with excitement. You’re glad you forgot to leave your notebook upstairs as you squeeze it tightly.

“Do you have any Royal  - Court? Law? I would like to learn more regarding court protocol.”

She blinks and rears back at your forwardness, gesturing to a shelf with a set of numbers on the end. Probably some kind of Dewey decimal kind of system.

“Start on 1746 Coronation Procession - The first Coronation to include Korea as guests. Be careful. These are very fragile documents.” She snaps at you.

You whirl to sneer at her, unable to hide your irritation. Screw respect. “I understand. I am a history major, Grandmother.”

You settle into the desk by the glass wall, unfurling the first pile of documents. The language is old and some of the Hangul is unrecognisable to you, but it’s not too difficult to piece it together.

This is about your great-great-great grandmother, Jang-Geum. Young, beautiful, betrothed to the son of a lord. She seems to make everything look easy. At least on paper. Conversing with the Korean consort she’s calm and mature, staining promises for better relations with their mother country. But this information is professional and official. And Korean.

“Grandma, do we have any personal accounts or diaries of former queens? I feel like I might be able to better understand and benefit with a personal touch.” 

The queen makes way back out from the stacks, her hees still clicking over stone. Her eyebrows seem to be stuck permanently up in her fringe, seeing as you keep surprising her today.

“I - not on site, no. But I will send for some, immediately. I find Queen Soonhee II particularly helpful.” She says briskly.

Of course it had to be the monarch with the same name as her. You raise a brow.

“So what number Soonhee does that make you, again?” You say.

She shoots me a look. “You should know better than to ask that. Have you not memorised our family tree? Soonyoung assured me that you had.”

Shit. You gape for a moment, not unlike a fish. “I - well, sometimes you take on new names, right? I haven't seen any of those, only heard about them. So were you born Soonhee or changed to it?”

Soonhee smirks. “Born. So I am Soonhee IV.” You relax and she has the gall to laugh at you. “Come along. I think that is enough being amongst these dusty stacks. Time for tea, I think.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh - always tea time.

You shift from foot to foot outside the arts building, Mingyu hot on your tail. Minghao had his sculpture tutorial so he wasn’t trailing after you today. Hype party of one.

“What are you waiting for?” He nags, leaning over your shoulder.

His large frame shelters you from the icy wind. Back to being your number one cheerleader then. You turn to glare up at him, an expression so severe it makes him take a step back. You sigh and soften your gaze - obviously your grandmother was rubbing off on you.

“Well, I haven’t really properly spoken with him since this whole tabloid drama. Sure, I messaged him to let him know what was going on and I apologised that way. And he said it was okay, but…is it? Really? What if I’ve ruined everything and now he won’t want to speak to me again? Shit, then you’ll have to choose and of course you’ll choose family I mean you should and -”

“Shut up!” Mingyu cuts your snowballing off and you wither. “He’s not like that. He holds a grudge for a little bit, but you did everything right. You gave him time and told him the truth. And you apologised. This is the next step. You want him to come, right?”

You hum and nod. “Of course. If I don’t figure this out, I want you guys there with me every step of the way anyway. And, well, who doesn’t want to go to a good party?”

Mingyu chuckles and squeezes your shoulder. “Exactly. So, go up there, say hi and invite him to your big old party. And after I will reward you with my famous seaweed soup - and beer.”

Mingyu? Cooking? Just for you? That is a prize. You perk up at the thought only to sag and shake your head. 

“Can’t - I’ve got a dress fitting tonight.” You mutter.

Mingyu does a wiggly little dance in the sun. “Dress fitting! Like Royal Coronation dress fitting?”

You groan and nod. “Of course, ‘Gyu. It’s one of many. And before you ask - no pictures! This one needs to be a surprise.”

He pouts and comes back in to lean on your shoulder. “Okay, okay. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I can swing tomorrow.” You smile warmly - you missed this. “I’ll see you later. Wish me luck!!”

He whistles and cheers as you walk in the building, leaving you keeled over laughing in the lift. You needed this, always.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #jihoon au #jihoon scenario #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fic #woozi au #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

hi! can i be added to the tag list for me a princess? thank youuuu

Sure thing! Glad you’re liking it 😉

#mapsu fic #asks

[gallivantingheart]

When will u post like starlight??

that’s a bloody good question!

i’m gonna clean mapsu off the table first (should be completely posted by the end of the month) then like starlight will be up sometime in august.

btw vv excited bc this is looking like my first long, single posted fic (like it’s at 19k wtf)

#asks #anon #like starlight

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 8: yue ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1745

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: coarse language, just filler.

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: it took a year. but it’s back. and i’m way closer to finished than i thought would be. In fact, I actually might finish and it won’t be half-assed?

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha​, @minkwans​, @annakemi​, @chaseyui​, @noniesgirl​, @gyubagebin​

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

You call Soonyoung the next morning, swaddled up in Mingyu’s cotton sheets.

“...Soonyoung?”

“Hey, Y/n. Are you okay?” His voice is cautious and guarded.

“I’m better. Thanks for covering for me last night. I...I’m sorry you had to. It just - it was a lot.” You murmur, guilty and sheepish even as you were alone.

You pick a crumb of popcorn stuck to the fabric of your shirt - had you slept with that all night? He stifles a yawn on the other end.

“I’m not completely okay with it, but I understand. I’ve got a free morning, do you want to have a coffee? Have a better chat about this?”

You smile. “You’re lucky - so do I. There’s an okay place not too far from campus? Might be far enough out the way maybe?”

“Great! See you in an hour -“

“And a half.” You cut him off. “I’ve gotta head home first.”

“Where…”

“Jihoon took me to his place last night.”

Soonyoung’s voice is far more open now. You can imagine him squirming in his seat as he coos. “Ooooooh! That’s nice of him! Anything interesting happen?”

You crack a peal of laughter before spluttering quiet. “No, Soonyoung. Nothing happened. We ate junk food and watched movies all night. Apart.”

“Awww boo.”

You jam the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you roll out of Mingyu’s bed to rifle through his draws for something to wear. A pair of high waisted jeans you haven’t seen since last summer and you nab one of his faded shirts - surely he won’t miss it. Your heels from last night will do if you can rake a brush through your hair.

“Not boo. Gotta take it easy. Maybe let him know I want to make a move first before I do it?”

Soonie grumbles inaudibly but relents. “I guess. I suppose.”

“Hey, do me a favour?” You say, creeping into the hallway. “Can you pick up my dress from my house if I drop it off?”

Jihoon is still asleep when you slip out, his door shut and all the curtains shut. You swipe a protein bar from his pantry and text him a very grateful thank you as you wait for your taxi home. You were expecting another increasingly common entourage outside your house when you arrived, shoulders braced and stomach churning. But the street is about as quiet as it can be for the morning commute. You carefully drag your dress up the steps to your house, the key slow as it clicks.

Dad is out, everyone else is also asleep. You sling the couture garment over the back of the sofa and change your shoes into a pair of sneakers - something much more comfortable, damn your grandmother. A puffy coat with fur hood too. You just wanted to feel like you today, not a princess.

“Is Jihoon here too?”

You heave a startled gasp, knees going weak with the shock. Your mother stands in the hallway, patient, but nothing else.

“I - no. No, I didn’t want to trouble him any more than I already have.” You mumble.

You both make your way into the kitchen and she starts up the kettle for some coffee - you might actually take her up on her offer for once.

“Baby, what happened last night?”

You’re already trembling, shaking your head. “You don’t know?”

She pulls out her mug and you gesture with your chin for your own. “No, no one told me anything except Jihoon. Just that you’d had a hard night of it. I take the dinner did not go as well as we hoped?”

You dropped your face in your hands, a dry sob breaking free. “I humiliated our country and drenched two others. I couldn’t stay for anything else.”

She curls around you tightly, rocking you gently. “Oh honey, these things happen. No one expects you to be perfect overnight. You only found out a short time ago this world even existed. And if they think anything otherwise, they will have me to deal with - that includes your grandmother.”

You sniffle and stutter a breath, nodding. Her arm is around your shoulder as she guides you into the kitchen with her to finish up your mugs of instant coffee. She puts in way too much sugar into your coffee, a sure way to ease your nerves. She lets you dip in silence for a moment before trying to fill the space quietly with plans for today - she’s off to find a new rung for the towels in the bathroom, matching handles and maybe some shelving. She could never sit still, and would never let anyone tell her she couldn’t do something. Why else had she abdicated?

You jolt when there is a knock at the front door.

“That’ll be Soonyoung. We’re going out for coffee - we’ve got some stuff to talk about. Royal stuff.” You murmur, picking up your purse off the side of the couch.

Your mum is still on the fence about him - grateful for his assistance and a new friend but weary. She was always guarded anyway though. You heave the dress into your arms and she squeezes you tight, a kiss to your cheek.

“Okay, see you when you get home?”

You nod and hum. A day straight home.

His bright eyes greet you and takes the gown off your hands.

“Good morning. You look pretty okay for your rough night.” He chirps down by the car as he jams the pile of fabric into his back seat rather inelegantly.

“My feet ache so bad. Beauty is pain, blah blah blah - not worth it if you ask me.” You mutter.

You slide into the passenger seat and he kicks the heater on high. A news station plays quietly. Probably to see if any word got out about last night’s debacle. He smiles at your reply but doesn’t say much else, apart from asking directions.

You’re glad you’re right in the lack of journalists swarming this part of campus. It’s a little dingy and closer to the bars and street vendors students would frequent after a hard day’s study. The cafe is a little dingy with the close white tiled floors and at least one chair at every table was wobbly, but the iced coffee was good and for the average student, that was enough. You order a hot drink with whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa on top - all for the aesthetic nowadays, you think to yourself - and a toasted sandwich. Soonyoung chooses a tea and a table far from the window yet also in clear sight.

“So.” He starts.

“Yeah, so.” You shrug, suddenly unable to look up at him. “I’m really sorry about last night. I know I should have stayed and apologised properly…but I couldn’t handle it. I felt on edge all night and ruining dinner was the tipping point. I couldn’t bear to see the queen’s face. To disappoint her like always. But I should have stayed and faced the consequences. I should never have left you to pick up the pieces but thank you - I’m very grateful you did. I suppose I should be arranging meetings with them to formally apologise, right?”

He blinks, back straightening. “I - yes, actually. We haven’t gotten to that yet, but you’re correct. Very diplomatic thinking of you, I’m proud. Also, thank you, I accept your apology.” Soonyoung purses his lips and takes a sip of his tea. “Actually, there wasn’t that much to clear up. Thailand’s representative was soothed quickly and Eduardo was dubious but actually a little lonely. He’s always been an avid conversationalist.”

You bite your lip. “And the Queen?”

“Oh confused…and furious. I’m sorry.” He frowns and draws his hand across the table to hold yours, patting the back of your hand. “She’d wondered where you went and I said you’d run to the bathroom to clean up. Then I said you went home because you were ill and embarrassed.”

“We’ll you certainly weren’t lying. I slipped out the servants entry and caught a ride to see Jihoon.”

Just then, it feels as if eyes are on you. Looking up, through the bench window seating and out to the campus. Jihoon. In runners and sweatpants, a hoodie and dark sports jacket, his backpack sling over a shoulder. He seems to stare right through you and you pull your hand out from under Soonyoung to reach out for him. His eyes seem to turn to shadow and you turn back to Soonyoung for some sort of sense.

Soonyoung, meanwhile, has caught the whole exchange and grins over his tea. It's sweet, but maybe a little troublesome. Your eyes still search for Jihoon out on the campus for a moment before deflating.

“He seems to think there's something going on here. Is there, hmm?” He giggles.

You kick his ankle and duck your head, hoping the warmth of your drink masks your flush. The scowl he wore drained you a little. You didn't peg him as the type to jump to conclusions, mr cool and clear. But it's easy to surprise you. You wave your fingertips over the steam escaping the hole through your whipped cream.

“Gross, Soonyoung. We aren’t the English...” you mumble.

“Everything okay? I was only joking.”

His soft hand reaches between you to rub your arm comfortingly. His glittering slanted eyes are so trusting and inviting, you sigh, twisting your arm to grip his.

“I just...Jihoon is important to me. He doesn't know it, obviously. But he’s up there with ‘Gyu and ‘Hao. I really like him, Soonie. All this royal stuff just really throws a spanner in the works.”

Soonie nods sagely. “Hmm, I hear you. Hey, are you finished your drink? Let’s get out of here and find something to do - I haven’t had a day of no engagements in a while.”

You spilt your sandwich as you walk for the car, dusting crumbs onto your jeans. The wind is biting and the sun is not putting up a very good fight of warming you.

“What do you mean no engagements? I would have thought that last night there would be some damage control?”

He shakes his head and fluffs at his white-blonde hair. “Nope, not for me. Your grandmother wanted to cover everything. I’m sorry but at this point I think she’s ready to say you’re a little insane to soften the blow.”

“Honestly same.” You roll your eyes.

Bonus

#caratwritersclub #seventeen fic #seventeen au #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon au #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi au #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

pairing: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

genre: social media!au, fluff, humour, romance

warnings: none, as of yet

a/n: mad shoutout to @woozisnoots​ and the rest of the crew @caratwritersclub​, the best hype team I’ve met 🥰

Profiles 1 | 2

⏮️ chapter 1: no way ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 2: cinderella ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 3: anastasia ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 4: amelia ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 5: anneliese ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 6: mulan ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 7: serenity ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 8: yue ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 9: jasmine ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 10: merida ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 11: anna ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 12: elsa ⏭️

⏮️ chapter 13: amaide ⏭️

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #woozi fic #jihoon fic #written #mapsu fic

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

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⏮️ chapter 6: mulan ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1717

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: i have no reason as to the TWO WEEK wait, but i still hope it’s okay. Also, I know nothing of international politics or table etiquette, don’t @ me

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha​, @minkwans​, @annakemi​, @chaseyui​, 

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonhee follows you with eagle eyes as you circle the dining room, elaborate table setting laid out along with decorative lemon themed table centrepieces.

“And who sits next to France?”

You rush to answer, not facing her. “Belgium. Like on the map, because France and Germany don’t get along politically.”

“And across from Germany?” She calls, idly adjusting forks and spoons.

“Thai - uh, Spain, sorry. Thailand is next to Spain, before myself. Then Soonyoung and yourself at the head of the table, north.”

You pause to turn and wait for Soonhee to assess your answer. She’s dressed in a silky champagne two piece blazer and skirt, her blouse designed with a high neckline and thin necktie. The click of her heels are a constant, reminding you of a metronome - just to torment you a little more. She nods, finally.

“I didn’t quite ask for all of that, but yes. You are correct. Have you had your final fitting? You must be presentable before the attendees. Reputation and first impressions are vital.”

You bite the bottom of your lip, nodding. “I had it the day before last. Everything is as ready as can be.”

“Hmmm. You are dismissed. I suggest you study on the conversation topics from last week and compose yourself before tomorrow. Please be here at 1pm, sharp. Antoni insists on natural light and I wish to be ready as early as possible.” Soonhee still doesn’t look at you when she speaks.

As much as it makes your blood boil from the aloof and disparaging manner in which she speaks to you - and only you, it seems - you push down any unpleasant urges against her. She’s a queen; a ruler of a country. No doubt not used to her opinion being challenged, much less by someone your age. There are better things to utilise your energy on rather than fighting the brick wall that is your grandmother.

“Yes, grandma.” You’ll still push the envelope and call ther that though, something a little less formal for the times. “See you tomorrow.”

You instantly turn out the room, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. Those dreadful heels click hastily after you.

“And no socialising tonight! We can’t afford any bad press or late nights for anyone.”

Her voice has never been loud but it carries remarkably well. You huff and jam your phone away, a chicken and drinks session with the boys off the cards. Mingyu is out of town on another holiday with family, so it would have been Minghao and Jun, your fellow foodies.

Despite the early bedtime, you can’t seem to sleep, tossing and turning, tangling yourself in your sheets. You hope Antoni is as good at hiding sleepless nights as he is at shaping eyebrows.

The dress is beautiful, of course. (You had the wine gang help you choose over text. Secretly, of course.)

And while you’re still sceptical of Antoni after the debacle he caused concerning your identity, he blathers on and on in apologies as he pins and fiddles with your hair so you don’t mind too much by the end of it all. Soonhee seems to think he’s redeemed himself - the queen’s word is law. Soonyoung looks super chic in his blazer and turtleneck. You pout at him in his fashionable attire no one else in their stuffy suits appears to bat an eye at.

“Soonie you look great.” You say from the bottom step of the main staircase - grand entrance and all.

He can’t help but preen. “Thanks, as do you, Boss.”

“Gross. But I look like a glitzed up puffball. If I had known that it could have been more casual I-”

The queen cuts off your whining as she glides over in a gauzy ivory gown, crown glittering with every light fixture. “Y/N. Very appropriate. Soonyoung, handsome as always. Are you sure you don’t have my genes?”

What? A - A joke? Where? You have to forcibly shut your mouth from the conversation in front of you. Soonyoung has a steady dancers’ posture - or maybe just a royal one. Straight spine, relaxed held back shoulders and a level gaze. You twist your fist in the many layers of your skirt, to both hide and release the frustrating tension radiating through you. The ambassador laughs, fluffing shyly at his bleach blonde fringe.

“Oh, ahaha. Your Majesty, no. No, I do not.” He mumbles.

You dip yourself in a short bow before dodging the pair in order to attempt to mingle. Droning conversation topics flick through your mind, like forcing the pages of a book. Finally, you set your sights on the Swedish ambassador, if only to talk about Eurovision - the one fun subject allowed to be discussed with you.

You find though, that most of the conversations you attend cycle through the same process. The notice of your presence and an introduction between you all - ministers, ambassadors and their companions. Then a resuming of the current conversation, you being too afraid of looking stupid to add any effective input. You have to bite back a sigh of relief when dinner is announced.

Soonyoung is right. You need a spoon for the cool soup served. He flicks the edge of the one you are supposed to use and you kick his ankle in thanks. The conversations from the foyer are carried into the dining space and you lose India to Thailand. Soonyoung is chatting avidly with Scotland across from him, his hands gesturing from their place on the table cloth. Despite this, main course goes swimmingly, a chicken lemon dish on rice with a hint of garlic and herbs. You hesitate on your chopsticks before picking up a knife and fork like most of the other dignitaries. You feel eyes on you and glance over to see Soonhee evaluating you from the head of the table. She still manages to look severe to you, even with the amicable situation - but maybe you’re just imagining things.

It’s when dessert is around the corner that it falls apart. Spain’s representative, a lovely man named Eduardo is discussing the lemon market of Amaide with you, something you are luckily very proficient with. As you speak, you demonstrate the incline of the market, you tip your water glass over. The elder man, easily in his fifties, smiles warmly and lets you fix it up with an apology to him and the waiter on hand to clean it up. Thailand’s eyes squint at you dubiously and you bow back to them. You describe the style of orchard the royal lemon ceremony is held in, gesturing over your shoulder at the Queen Mother, and the critical breeding of the trees that grow all over the country. A stray hand wave collides with the melting ice bucket with a clang, tipping it sideways… all over Eduardo. Now the pleasant man is drenched from head to toe, Portugal catching the spray and flying bottle of champagne. Thailand is awash as well, nowhere near as bad, but he seems to seize up in panic, dabbing and pressing at his shoulders and sleeves. The dining room is in a commotion now as you bite your lips and frown, grabbing your own napkin to dry down the man next to you. Your hair is damp, slowly going fluffy and frizzy from the water. People are standing up, including yourself and Soonhee.

“I-I-I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy! Are-are you okay, Eduardo?” You protest.

He shoots you a severe look, only tempered by the reputation of every single person in the room. Obviously not. You chew harshly at your lip as the waiters fuss and someone talks quietly about offering a change of clothes.

You look around the dying chaos - even Soonhee is amongst it, joining in on the many dabbing gingerly at the spanish ambassador’s suit with a napkin. Soonyoung catches your eye as you slink backwards towards the ajar french doors, leaning over to the waiter.

“If anyone asks, I’ve gone to the power room, okay? I-I, uh, shouldn't be too long.” You murmur out the corner of your mouth.

He glances at you, nodding. Soonyoung frowns, gesturing with a discreet finger back to his side. You shake your head, signalling a time-out. You hike up your skirts the moment you turn the corner, clacking down the dim hallway as fast as you can to pick up your purse from the cloak room. Making a detour, you go for the east bathroom, in favour of the north one closer to the dining room.

Slamming the door behind you and locking it, you turn the toilet lid down to sit on it for a moment. A time which gets longer and longer the more you worry your lips to oblivion, thinking on your next move. There is no salvaging what you just did. Humiliating yourself, your victims and the Queen Mother - and by extension, your entire country. No. Surely you couldn’t stay. But how to get out of the embassy without causing more of a fuss? You check the time. Only forty minutes left of the dinner anyway. They couldn’t miss you while still cleaning up. Your stomach turns and lurches heavily, so you turn to press your face into the cool tiled wall.

So, leave. But to where?

No one was in the city, having gone away for the break. Certainly not just home. You wanted just a moment away from everything. You peek your head out into the empty hallway. There is an employee exit next to the kitchens - only the cctv would see you then. But where to? Jihoon? Would he still be around? Would he be okay with seeing you?

You set up a ride for the university before making a break for it, gasping as you lose a bracelet, snagged on the curled handle of the door. Punching in the default entry code, you power walk over the concrete and gravel out to the side street as a little green bug of a car pulls up.

The window winds down to show a man in his early 30’s. “Ride for Y/n?”

“That’s me. Thanks.”

You glance back over your shoulder, through the wrought iron gates to the deadly still building. Jumping in, you tug your long, fluffy skirt in after you.

Bonus

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #seventeen woozi #seventeen jihoon #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

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⏮️ chapter 4: amelia ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1522

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: thank you so much for your patience! I’ve been pretty swamped with work, seeing as my hours have been upped. but I’m glad this is finally out - I hope you like it!

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha​, 

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

When you round the corner of the stairs for your art history lecture, you're still fussing over your hair, oddly put together and feeling better than you can remember. Your shoes are a bit stiff from the newness of it all. There is a strangled cry and your head snaps up. Two pairs of round eyes meet yours and you dash over as quiet as you can before Mingyu can make any more fuss.

"Shhhh, shhhhh shhhhut up!" You hiss.

Minghao squints, giving you the once over. "Oh that’s a new one."

You nod and roll your eyes, slumping against the curved window that walled the hallway. There is no grip on your shoes, so you have to stand back straight to save yourself from falling.

"Yes. The Queen Mother deemed my normal, twenty-something look unfit for the potential public eye. Even if I’m only going to class.” You grumble.

You rifle in your bag - the only thing you wouldn't give up - for a stray hair scrunchie. At least she deemed those within fashion, seeing as they didn't strain your hair too much.

Hao crosses his arms. "You obviously don't like it."

The lecturer opens the door and the three of you ease into the theatre, planting yourselves in your usual spot. You shrug, pulling out your stuff.

"No, I’ve told you guys. It's not like that. I liked the stuff I wore before and I like what I'm in now...most of it, anyway. But, it's all just a bit much."

Mingyu knocks your shoulder lightly with a grin. "You're just not used to the royal treatment. Imagine when you get to try on the really fancy stuff."

In retaliation you flick at one of his pens with your own, watching his lips quickly drop into a pout as Mingyu fumbles to catch it back.

“That’s if I even get that far. I can’t even remember my own great grandfather’s name.” You grumble.

There is a collective hiss of the class to be quiet as the lecture starts, attendance being passed up the rows. Your name still fascinates you as you write it on the roll, so innocuous yet in plain sight. How does no one know who you are?

As you head through the campus for lunch with the boys before splitting for your next lectures, you notice that a lot of heads are turning your way. You can’t help but tug at the lapels of your coat, examining your outfit again. None of it was obviously designer - no brands labelled, etc.. The conversations dying at the sight of you. You can’t help but shrink a little into Mingyu’s side, worry turning down your lips.

“Psst.” You hiss up at them. “Is it just me or are people looking?”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “Don't be silly. It’s just you being paranoid.”

Now someone was pointing at you, gesturing to their phone. The food court is no longer as hustle and bustle as before. A lull in noise before erupting into something a little more frantic, like the rising buzz of a beehive. It feels like a beehive too - the honey white paint and low dingy ceiling from the old part of the university buildings. It’s Mingyu’s shout for lunch today - serves him right - so you keep your head in your phone, scrolling through Amaide’s embassy twitter in case anything about your grandmother pops up. All you’re getting though is weird tabloid articles. You jump, almost flinging your phone from your hands when the embassy’s phone number shows up. This early and so suddenly - it can’t be good.

“H-Hello?” You say, cringing Minghao’s way.

When he frowns, you mouth Queen, and he instantly falls quiet.

“Y/n, come to the embassy immediately. We have an escort waiting at the west entry. An issue has arisen.”  Soonhee’s voice is firm and louder than usual.

You stand up, shoving your stuff together, phone pinned to your shoulder. Covering the bottom mic you tell Hao, “gotta go. Royal Emergency.”

He nods. “We’ll talk later.”

You dash out, grabbing your sandwich roll out of Mingyu’s grasp on the way past and jamming it into your backpack for later. Your shoes aren’t gripping the worn brick that lines the pathways of your campus, so you resort to power walking as reasonably as you can.

“Grandma, what’s the matter?” You say breathless.

“Your position has been compromised. We will talk more when you arrive. Hurry.”

She hangs up as quickly as she rang and you swear harshly under your breath at her abruptness. Turning the corner, there is a car parked in a loading zone, flags snapping gently in the breeze.

You tumble in and before you even get a chance to right yourself, the envoy speeds off. The driver doesn’t say a word, so you know it's not Junwoo - that worries you even more. The Queen Mother had put him in charge of you, so why wasn’t he the one picking you up? The car crackles over the round gravel driveway and you spit yourself out as soon as you line up with the door, all sense of propriety out the window. You barely have a chance to settle your posture, reminding yourself of your grandmother’s expectations of arrival when the door flings open to an attendant. He takes your bag, gesturing down the long marble hall.

“Down the end and to the door on the right to the Conference Room, Miss.”

You give him a double take. You’ve never been in that part of the embassy before, unnecessary for your lessons. But you see a series of people rush in and out, phones glued to their ears.

The queen stands at the far end of the oval table, laptops and papers scattered. The screen behind her has a twitter feed up. Wood panelling makes the corporate room deceivingly warm, as does the lemon painting mirroring the tv. From the heavy air condition though, you know better.

“G-Grandma?” You mumble.

She straightens up to stare at you. “Y/n, come.”

“Wh-what’s the matter? Who are these people?”

You take a seat next to her. Junwoo is scanning a manila file, tipping his chin at you in greeting. People, places, numbers. They were looking for someone.

“Amaide Intelligence. But that isn’t your concern. Someone leaked that you are the heir. It’s blown up all over the media.”

You feel as if your stomach drops out of you, sinking and sickly. “When?”

“This morning.”

You think back to not even half an hour ago when it felt like the campus’s eyes were on you - now you know why. But the boys would never spill that kind of secret. You trusted them.

“So, why am I here? Could I not just have gone home?”

You’re feeling exceedingly small and naïve amongst the top secret hustle and bustle around you. Even the queen’s attention is not, for once, fully on you. Tucking a stray strand of grey behind her ear, she glances at you to shake her head.

“No. Not without an escort. You are to stay here for the day until we can find out who has done this. As a matter of safety. See if you can study while you’re here. Or help out if you can.” Dismissive, as usual.

You stand up, tempted to stomp and stalk out the room. Instead, you wait and listen, thinking. If your safety is in danger, therefore so is your family’s. And the boys. You decide to pick up a stray file - Mingyu’s, actually - to see if you can make out what the intelligence team is looking for. But not before sending a message to Mingyu and Minghao to summarise the situation.

It feels like hours of papers and google maps when the door to the room flings open.

“Antoni. Antoni leaked it to The Daily Mail.”

You look up to the unfamiliar voice. A young man with fluffy blonde hair and round cheeks grips a phone in one hand, a scrap of paper in the other. Kwon -

The Queen smiles. “Ah, Soonyoung. Thank goodness. Thank you very much. Junwoo, please call -”

He smiles. “Already did it. He’ll be over at seven.”

Soonhee stands up, hand clasped together. Junwoo is beginning to clean up the files, shutting down computers. You flop your own information closed, sighing in relief. You shoot to your feet though at the glare from the elderly woman, still severe in the dwindling natural light.

“Perfect timing as it is for tea.” Soonhee glides over to the young man, gesturing with a thin hand at you. “Soonyoung, this is the source of all this mess. My granddaughter, Y/n. Y/n, this is Soonyoung, our South Korean ambassador. Very good at his position, as you’ve just seen. A valuable member of your political team.”

He holds his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you!”

You shake firmly, smiling politely. “And you. Tea?”

Which you only offer because your grandmother is staring intently at you. It already feels like another lesson. But with the way he perks up at the mere mention of it, you don’t feel so sour.

“Absolutely!”

Bonus:

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 2: cinderella ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1003

genre/s: fluff, humour

warnings: some coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @amarachi-luv​

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

“Where have you been?” Minghao hisses, moving his bag to the floor so you can sit. “This morning was no time to make Instagram posts!”

You sigh, pulling out your notebook and your phone. The lecture slides show up on your little screen while you quickly copy Minghao’s notes beside you. Your hair is more windblown than usual and, honestly, you're just a little bit done with it all.

“My grandmother showed up suddenly for a visit.”

“I thought she died?” Hao pulls a face at you.

He was by your side at the funeral, he should know.

“No, not my dad's mum, my mother's. It was a bit sudden. She had a lot of stuff to talk about.” You nibble on the inside of your cheek, not looking up from your papers.

“Oh. Still. Instagram, really?”

You roll your eyes but say nothing, trying to settle your focus on the lecture rather than the eventful morning you had. The words sit heavy on your tongue, the secret begging to be revealed. Your frown deepens - but you'd promised to keep quiet about it.

“Are you okay?” Hao asks after class, brows wrinkled.

He looks like he’s walked out of an editorial magazine, Nikes and all. He rifles around his bag to pull out his camera - he has another photography assignment around the corner and you’re tagging along for company. Minghao has always been a level-headed presence, especially when you have crap to do. “Government secret.” You nod and smile tersely.

“Uh, yeah ‘course! It’s not like her showing up was life-changing or anything!” You laugh thinly.

He crouches to angle himself right for his shot - the graffiti art on the wall of the science building seems to vibrate under the morning light, clearer than the warmth of something in the afternoon. Minghao’s slim frame folds itself up tightly as he twists and turns, the shutter of his camera loud despite the bustling university students.

He turns back to you, shrugging. “Sure. You just look like you’re about to sign your life away, that’s all. Could you step back for a second? I’m just gonna switch sides.”

You hum agreement, doing as you’re told. Idly, you search up Amaide’s Wikipedia page. How the hell does your mother hide an entire royal bloodline from you for so long? Why didn’t you think to ask about it sooner? You take in the abbreviated description of the small island, Soonhee’s stiff portrait further down the page. Your own mother’s name has a dead red ink attached to it that makes you murmur in relief. Clicking on your uncle’s name however comes up with his own page, his flushed and beaming smile greeting you in the sidebar. To think that same smile seen by millions is sitting in holiday photo albums, icing on his nose. You wipe your history, as if someone would care to snoop and see it.

“Hey, Minghao I gotta go see Ji - uh, Jihoon about that key. I’ll see you for the tute this afternoon?” You mumble.

The photographer straightens up to his full height and smiles. “Sure! Thanks for keeping me company. See you.”

You don’t tell Minghao that you’re also picking up a stir fry bowl up for the music major on the way there. You could imagine the roll of his eyes and cheeky comment about the way to Jihoon’s heart being through his stomach. The boys have been harassing you about your crush on Mingyu’s cousin for years. Ever since the spring of sophomore year when Mingyu and Jihoon’s family decided to make the reunion an annual thing. He was way more grouchy then. Tucking it into your bag, you message that you’re on your way up, seeing as Jihoon barely ever leaves the studio unless it’s for class or to eat. The same one in the music building, down the end of the hall of the fourth floor.

“Yeah, come in.” You can hear the muffled call.

Poking your head in, you grin. “Hey ‘Hoon.”

The massive headphones rest by his collarbones and he squints from the sliver of sharp light you let in. “Oh, hey.”

“I, uh, came to pick up the key you cut for me? Or-or does Mingyu have it?” You duck in, the door clicking shut behind you.

“No, no. I’ve got it. ‘Gyu said you had classes today so…”

Jihoon shakes his head, standing up to rifle through the zippers of his bag. You take in the mush of colours and soundwaves spread across his computer screen, the soundboard intimidating. How he managed to maneuver around all those buttons and dials never failed to astound you. He rights himself standing, the key glinting purple in the studio lighting.

“Here we go.”

Jihoon passes it to you and you hastily stuff it in your own bag with a nod. “I - thanks. Oh, before I go - here. The café down in the main building had a buy one, get one half price deal going on. I didn’t know if you’d eaten yet and ‘Gyu says you don’t usually and I...well.”

You shrug and push it onto the stool in the corner, stepping back. The door handle jabs the small of your back and you bite your tongue to stifle the squeak of shock. Jihoon’s lip curls up and he nods again.

“I haven’t actually. Thanks, Y/N.”

You smile properly now, at ease with the acceptance. “Oh, good. I’ll see you later then. I - b-bye!”

You barely catch him reply with, “see you, Y/N,” as you shut the door behind you too hard.

You cringe all the way back down to the library to get some studying in from the lecture that morning (and do the readings you were supposed to have done before that morning). At least until you realise your stupid nerves from a five minute conversation have washed away all the swirling thoughts from this morning’s royal debacle. Skimming your notes from the lecture, you grin. Well, at least there’s that.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #jihoon fic #woozi fic #woozi x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | next

⏮️ chapter 1: no way ⏭️ 

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2195

genre/s: fluff, humour

warnings: none

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: thanks for your patience everyone!

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

The doorbell rings with the stupid song your dad picked and you flinch, jostling your coffee. Too early for any of that kind of noise. Still, you look at your mother, brow quirked. “You weren’t expecting anyone, were you?” She shakes her head. “Mingyu wasn’t picking you up?” You don’t have a class with him today. The doorbell switches to knocking, becoming a touch more firm and impatient. Your mum turns the corner to the short hallway. Her voice is muffled and stilted, making you shrink with your hot drink in hand. Obviously not a warm welcome. When she gets around the corner, you’re shocked when two others follow. A chic elderly woman and a tall man you swear shouldn’t have been able to fit in the doorway. The pastel dress blazer alone makes you feel underdressed in your own house. There is a sharp glint to your mother’s eyes that you don’t like as she glances at them.

��It would have been better if you called beforehand. We would have made a bit more time.” There is a downward turn to her lips as she says it over her shoulder, rounding the kitchen counter to return to her tea. “I know you, dear. I would never have seen you, had you been notified of my arrival.” The elderly woman says. You stand silently, watching the strained conversation pass back and forth. You note that the woman has the same eyes as your mother and that the man dressed in black hasn’t left the entry to the hallway. Your mum pulls out two more mugs, one plain with strict edges, the other quite stout yet sophisticated. “Please, sit. Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee?” “Tea. One sugar.” You gape as she pours one coffee, black into the taller mug, pushing it across the bench to the man. He takes it with a nod. The elderly woman sitting at your dining table eyes you heavily, squinting and scanning your half-asleep frame. It makes your shoulders crawl as you look away. You’re a bit confused as to the small talk; it was something your mother hated. Why is she suddenly letting this woman in and indulging her every whim? Your phone vibrates over the bench - Minghao. You’re going to be late for class if you keep at this any longer.

You turn to sneak to the back of the house to get ready, ignoring the fact you hadn’t even been introduced. Frankly, you’re pretty sure you have been forgotten. “Ah-ah. Not so fast. Come here.” You screw your nose up at your mother’s tone. Turning, you seat yourself next to her tentatively,. She sighs. “Y/n, this is your grandmother. My mother.” You have to consciously keep your teeth together so your jaw doesn’t drop. No one talked about your mother’s side of the family. Your dad avoided it on a weak presumption of ignorance. You could see why now. The pastel woman holds her thin hand out across the table. “Y/n, my name is Park Soonhee. A pleasure to meet you.” Her tone of voice booked no argument and you shake her hand firmly despite your trepidation. It’s cold, but not clammy. You’re still too busy watching Soonhee and your mum exchange looks, whole conversations filled between them. Soonhee nods with the breath of a smile, relaxing back to her place. She folds her hands neatly in her lap, her tea untouched despite accepting the offer. The lavender blazer and skirt are still off-putting and you note she has some kind of gold coat of arms pinned to her chest. “Firm handshake. Very good.”

She turns to look between your mother and yourself. “I’m glad you’re both here. This is a discussion for the women of our family.” You hate how dismissive Soonhee is of the tension she creates with every word. The aura around your mother is tensing, stretching to the point of snap. Your mother’s agitation always sets you off as well, far more than you’d like. The more she speaks, the more the questions grow. Soonhee speaks as if you’re already halfway through the conversation. “Mother, what is it?” Your mum sighs. “Younghee, I am asking for you to take your rightful place as queen of our country. As of now, I am a widowed queen with no official heir. You are first in line. You cannot turn your back on your people.”

Snap. You mother pushes up, grabbing her tea and chucking it down the drain. Once she rinses her cup, it clatters into the sink loudly. When she looks back, you swear you can see a fire in her eyes. It distracts from the fact that Soonhee, your grandmother, is saying she and your mother are royalty. “We talked about this years ago. Many times. When I married Sunghoon. When Y/N was born. When my son was born. Every time I have said no. Why do you think it would be any different now? It’s been over twenty-five years. Enough.” She snarls. With fury like that, you expect the man in the entry to make a move. No such action happens, so it seems he doesn’t consider her a threat. A mistake on his part, you think - you’ve seen how violently she can cut carrots for dinner when she’s angry. “Younghee. Our family is a long and proud line of leaders, the backbone and foundation to our country’s existence. Every law and system is in part due to our hand. If you reject this, it may jeopardise the entirety of Amaide’s monarchy and result in the deterioration of the country itself.” Soonhee finally raises her voice and it feels like it should threaten more than it does. “Well, I guess you should have thought about that before coming into my home and expecting your sort of answer.” Your mother is taut in the way she stands, her anger showing her age like no other emotion does. She doesn’t even properly face the queen when she speaks. You have to break the tension - there’s too much going on not to.

“Uh, what are we talking about, exactly? I’m hearing royalty? Mum, we’re not royalty. I can’t even do my hair properly on the best of days.” You murmur. Soonhee spins on you, aghast. “Younghee. Do they not know?” Even the guard looks uncomfortable now, subtly pushing his coffee back to the bench and checking behind him to the front of the house. You hear the heavy sigh from the kitchen, the under breath whispering that your mother does when she’s stressed. Carefully, she sits on your edge of the sofa, sandwiching you between the two women. “You heard right. Soonhee is the Queen of Amaide. That makes me a princess.” She says, eyes steady on you. You gape and splutter, pointing slowly between them. “You, a princess, mum? No way.” She nods, eerily calm. “It’s true. My full name and title are Princess Younghee Park, Heir to Amaide. I passed this title on years ago though, when I met your father. Therefore, the title falls to the next blood heir.” Your mind whirls. You knew your uncle had no children or a partner of any sort, resulting in many a summer spoiled rotten in ways you never fully understood. Your mum has no other siblings other than him. You were the eldest. Which meant … “No. No way. No way! I’m not -” Soonhee nods for you. “Yes. Technically you are. Princess Y/N Y/L/N, of Amaide.”

You stand up. “No, I don’t understand. What about dad? How much - where - what?” “Baby, your father hasn’t done anything. He knows about all of this but I made these choices. When I met your father here and married him, I was supposed to go back to Amaide and take my place as queen. Instead, I chose to step down and abdicate to live a normal life - to give you a normal life. For your father and the rest of our family. But, some people just don’t take no for an answer.” She glares at the queen. “Were you ever going to tell us?” You say in a breath. She shrugs. “One day. When it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But, I would never lie to you if you found out on your own.” She had a point. It was never lied about, just never discussed. Soonhee looks quite disgruntled at the whole situation but you can’t find yourself to be sympathetic, what with the way she barged in.

You stand and shake your head at the crumpled expression turning your mother’s lips. “So, uh, we’re royalty. R-right. This is a lot to take in. I have, um, class. Can we talk about this more when I get home?” Mum smiles and nods. “Sure, baby. Be quick.” It’s a fumbled rush down the hall and through your room to get your bag and your jeans on, not catch your toes in the knee rip. When you get out, the conversation has turned to a murmur, which doesn’t settle you any less. “‘Kay, going!”

“What about Y/N?” Soonhee says suddenly, louder than expected. You still and swallow a sigh. You thought you got out of this conversation for the time being. “What about me?” “Y/N, just because your mother has passed the crown on, doesn’t mean you have to. You could be the queen.” Soonhee says with a trace of smugness settled into her spine on your bowing sofa. Your mum jumps in, waving her hands and all. “Uh-uh. Not so fast, Soonhee. Didn’t you hear her? We would talk about this later. You can’t just spring something like that on us when she’s just found out.” “Which wouldn’t have been an issue, had you told her in the first place. She deserves the right to know about her heritage.” You shift on your feet, socks balled up in a hand as you watch the conversational tennis continue to play out. As usual, you’re on the fence.

“I-I don’t know. Mum’s right. I only just found out about this and I don’t understand any of what’s going on.” You mumble. “Princess Lessons!” Soonhee cries out, reminiscent of a mad scientist - just as persistent as one, too. “I shall be in the country for the next two months for political engagements. Plenty of time to learn about Amaide’s rich history and our family. Give her a taste of the life she was born for. And if all goes well, announce her out to polite society at the Independence Gala.” You hold your socks out to pause the situation. “Okay, hold on. Hold on. To be clear: I do get a choice in all of this, yes?” “Yes, of course. Take the lessons and then make your decision at the Gala whether or not to accept the crown.” Your mother steps up, curling around your side. “Baby, I do agree that I want you to know who your family is, now that you know. But you’re being given the one thing I never had, that I had to take - a choice. You get to decide your future.”

You watch the elderly woman, haughty and still. Something felt too simple. Too easy. “But, of course, no one can know. As of this moment, your existence is a classified, government secret. If the press heard about this-” Your mum gasps, rolling her eyes. “God no. If anybody got wind of this I can’t imagine the mess it would make for all of us. I don’t want the rest of the family going through that, after all the efforts made to keep a sense of normality.” “Oh, but it’s alright if I do.” You grumble, mimicking your mother’s actions. The fire sparks back in your mother’s eyes, stifling you. You nod and mime zipping your mouth with a sigh. “Good. Don’t you have class?” You shrug. “Yeah, I’m gonna be late though.” Soonhee waves over the man still hovering in the entryway. “Junwoo, can you get the car ready? Y/N has class.”

The great hulking man has kind honey brown eyes as he frowns at the queen. His coffee is long gone and you wonder if he’s sweating underneath all that thick black uniform. Honestly, he seems too cool for that inconvenience. “Your Majesty?” His voice rumbles carefully. “Oh, I’ll be here. We still have matters to discuss. Y/N, this is Junwoo, head of my guard and driver. Let him know where your school is.” You nod and wave them off, leaning in to the kiss your mother plants on your cheek. Junwoo walks with a scary amount of grace through your house, waiting at the door while you put your socks on at the step and wriggle on your shoes. You turn the corner out from the walking lane to the street, your jaw hitting the sidewalk at the sight of the small convoy of limousines lining the road. “A-are we taking all of these?” You rasp. Junwoo slides on his shades and shakes his head with a smile. “No, just the first one. We’ll be there before you know it.”

TAGLIST: @amarachi-luv​

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[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

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⏮️ chapter 5: anneliese ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2800

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: this one’s kinda super long-ish than usual. and a bit of a filler/character chapter, but I still hope you like it 😊

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha​, @minkwans​, 

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonyoung doesn’t dare kick his feet up onto the antique coffee table now that your grandmother is in the building, despite how much more comfortable it would be to. The way he reclines so deeply gives away his bad habits as he clears his throat and sits up a little better. You’re glad that Soonhee has tasked the ambassador with your princess lessons for a while. Maybe a more relaxed approach might jog your memory.

“So, where did Her Majesty get to last you did this?” He says, flipping open the photo album.

You lean forward, holding your sandwich up and away from the pages. “Uh, great grandparents. So...sixth generation.”

His brows raise. “Only sixth?”

You whine, slumping as he laughs kindly at you, empty of any maliciousness. Since the security breach, you’ve really warmed up to Soonyoung, glad to have someone closer to your age to relate to and learn from. And he’s a great teacher. Patient but firm, not to mention relentless. He told you about his travels across the country and secret stories about Amaide. They gave you a better idea of the kingdom you may end up leading.

You groan loudly - bordering a roar - after mixing up your great, great grandmother with your great grandaunt (once removed) and snap the album shut.

“Soon, spare me. My brain is seizing up.”

He laughs louder this time, eyes vanishing into his round cheeks. “Okay, okay. You’re probably right. Class dismissed.”

You get up and check your phone, noting the time. Maybe you would have enough time to catch the start of Jihoon’s radio show, if you left now. Jihoon did say he wouldn’t mind if you dropped by - inviting you even before you needed places to hide. Tonight might be a good time to? You slide your kitten heels back on, pulling out your earphones. Only now do you realise that there is a constant, soft pattering from the roof - rain. At least Junwoo was driving you everywhere now, so no risk of getting too wet. Your footsteps echo through the embassy, killing the quiet you’d become familiar with in the old building.

“So where are you headed now?” Soonyoung asks, tipping his head at the attendant who hands him his coat.

You shrug your own on, as well as a felted plaid scarf. “Uh, back to campus? I’ve got a friend I wanna visit.”

The blonde checks his watch, eyebrows shooting up into his feathery fringe. “At this time? There are still people at your college?”

“Hmmm. They have a community radio station. Jihoon has a show on Thursday nights.”

“Oh, do you want a lift?”

You slant your head at him as he detours past the front desk down a short and fairly dim hallway, elaborate alcoves set into either side of the wall.

“Sure? Only if you’re going out? Otherwise Junwoo is at my disposal, so to say.” You wave your hand in a dramatic version of your grandmother’s wave.

Soonyoung nods eagerly. “Yeah! I’m meeting up with some friends in Hongdae later on tonight, so leaving a little earlier won’t hurt. Like I told you, I’ve got nothing to do now Soonhee is catching up.”

You grin, jumping for the passenger seat of the dark car Soonyoung indicates to. Darkly tinted windows, an expectation of most cars you get in nowadays.

“So, who is Jihoon? Is he the one you posted about the other day?”

You nod, carefully not looking at him as you gesture to turn right out of the gates. “Y-yeah. Ah, he’s Mingyu’s cousin.”

You flinch at your voice, stuttered and shy. You didn’t need someone else giving you crap over Jihoon. Soon’s eyebrows raise as he purses his lips, humming in thought.

“Huh. Alright.” Okay, he so doesn’t believe you, but whatever. “That’s nice that you have such a close group of friends. They obviously know about the whole princess thing.”

“Yeah. Can’t really hide something this big from people who have known you most of your life, y’know? Grandmother doesn’t know they know though.” You insist, bouncing a little in your seat.

The rain has died down into a drizzle, almost spitting, so Soonyoung turns the heater and the wipers down. But you can already imagine the cold wet seeping into your shoes, tucking them closer to yourself.

“Of course not. Her Majesty would lose it if she knew you’d broken protocol so early on. Secret’s safe with me, I swear.”

His eyes are wide and he’s quite serious about it, a little bit more desperate than you expected him to be. You don’t dwell on it as you tell him to turn again into the east entrance, past a familiar cluster of restaurants.

When he gets to a set of bollards, you sling the door open, fashioning your scarf over your head. “This is me. Thanks Soonie!”

He grins, waving. “No worries! See you next week! Be safe!”

“You too! Night.”

Shutting the door, you dash for the first spot of dry you see, turning to wave him off.

You navigate the dark campus and get out of the lift five minutes before the start of the show. It’s only then that you question whether or not Jihoon would really want you there. You’re just his cousin’s best friend he’s really nice to, maybe a friend of his yourself. You hesitate at studio 2, shifting from foot to foot as you overthink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by and watch one of the shows if you want. Mingyu and Minghao have even been in an episode or two.” Jihoon looks up briefly to smile small.

Quickly, you open the door and claim a seat next to Bumzu, Jihoon’s director and producer for the radio show. He’s quite well known in most circles, being everyone’s music and tech go-to. You put your finger to your lips, unwrapping your scarf from your head. Somehow, Jihoon is too absorbed in prep to notice you come in.

“Ji said I could come by. I hope I’m not in the way.” You whisper, unsure of the standards in the studio.

Bumzu smiles, his rougher edges softening. He passes you another set of headphones, plugging them in. The on air sign isn’t on yet, luckily.

“Not at all. We’re just about to start. Make yourself comfortable.” he murmurs. “Jihoon, we’re good to go. Cameras are rolling.”

You look over to see Jihoon settling in in his classic sweats and slides, despite being filmed.  The host’s eyes slide to you, widening in shock. He motions to you with a wave, brows quirked. You wave shyly, smiling tentatively. The on air light above you buzzes to life and you settle, fond smile pressing at your lips. A subdued but chill jingle plays, male vocals playing to introduce the show.

“Hey everyone, it’s Woozi and welcome to tonight’s Woozi Tunes, your thursday night music fix. We’ve got new stuff from Justin Bieber and our on campus artist, Bumzu.” Jihoon says into the mic, giving a short wave to a camera.

As he chatters about this and that, his eyes slide your way, holding for prolonged amounts of time. Even Bumzu smiles, waving him off subtly. You’ve probably put him off, poor thing.

“So, first up we have Golden by Harry Styles. All thanks to his new mv, which I really recommend watching. Hope you like it.” He turns a few dials and nudges his headphones off an ear.

Jihoon looks straight at you, squinting a little as he smiles. You mirror his actions, shuffling closer while carefully staying out of the various camera shots.

“Bumzu, we’ve got four in the queue, right?”

The producer next to you nods. “Yeah, an ad segment then I’ll open the request lines. So, ten, maybe fifteen minutes till live. Studio audio has been muted.”

You don’t understand any of the small terms being thrown out around you. But you don’t care too much, bundling your scarf closer to your neck in the enclosed room for something to do.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you were coming.” Jihoon says, empty of malice.

You smile but shrug. “Yeah, I ended up finishing pr- uh, study group earlier than I expected and thought I’d drop by. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

He shakes his head, shuffling his slides back and forth over the tightly woven grey carpet. Beats and patterns wave behind his head, turning the fluorescent halo around his hair neon.

“Not at all. I’m glad you decided to come. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I always enjoy your radio shows, Ji.” You blurt out.

Your jaw drops at your lack of filter, promptly shutting your mouth as your stomach drops and flutters. Wow, maybe Minghao is a bit right - too obvious. His brows quirk, resting his elbow on his knee.

“You listen to it?” He asks.

“Of course I do! I like you-your music taste.” You clench your teeth through your grin.

Wow, you really needed to learn how to filter your brain better. At least you don’t blush easily. You chatter back and forth about the playlist for tonight and his upcoming guests - he has Seokmin and Jeonghan, a mutual friend of Joshua’s, next week to talk musicals and teaching (how they relate, you’re not really sure). You forget Bumzu is even in the room until he gently clears his throat.

“Jihoon, you’re back on in 60.” He calls quietly.

“Oh! Oh right. Thanks, Bumzu.” Jihoon glances back to you, the tips of his ears a fairy floss pink. He’s grinning though. “Psst, do you want to talk more after the show?”

You nod, shooting a thumbs up, casting a glance back up to the time, hearing the end of a Pink Sweat$ song fade out.

He’s more charismatic over radio than you realise, leaning back in his chair and chatting briefly to one of the callers requesting. Still subdued but open, cracking a grin here and there. You check the radio show’s page to see if anyone is commenting on the show tonight - you’re a frequent snooper. Jihoon has quite a few fans, not just on campus. You bop your head along to his rhythmic playlist and listen intently to his callers. Before you know it, Jihoon is hunched near the controls and ending the show.

“Thanks for tuning into another Woozi Tunes on 97.6 fm. Remember, if you want to listen to this episode or any others, podcast recordings and playlists will be available on Spotify. To play us out, a song for, well a friend. An oldie but a good one - Bruno Mars, Finesse. Woozi, signing off.”

You bite your lip to stifle laughter. His favourite artist, your favourite song. You let him murder it the summer of 2018, long after it had come out, just to annoy Mingyu. 

“And… cut. Cameras and audio are off. Another week down.” Bumzu announces, pulling off his headset.

You pull off your own, delicately setting it aside. You give a lone round of applause. “Well done everyone.”

The radio host looks to you, quietly preening as he stands to tug his jacket off the back of his chair. You stay seated out the way as they clear everything away, slotting equipment into draws and wiping down surfaces. There isn’t even any idle chatter between them, but rather than being awkward it’s a moment of peace you didn’t know you wanted. Working, content peace away from everything as of late.

“Jihoon, don’t worry. I’ll finish up.”

Jihoon’s dark brows shoot up. “No no, hyung. We’re almost done.”

“Exactly. There’s not much left and I lock up anyway. You’ve got an early seminar tomorrow. And a guest. You can head off.” The older man insists, his soft edges turning to a stubborn frown.

The younger of the two rolls pretty quick, pushing the keyboard away and nodding. Jihoon’s dark eyes flick to you hopefully as he grabs his keys and wallet from an open draw.

“Alright. Talk tomorrow. Night, hyung.”

You give the older man a wave, bundling yourself up again now that you’re leaving the enclosed space. “Thank you, Bumzu! Good night.”

You head out into the hallway, meandering down to the lift and then the small set of stairs to the entry of the arts building. The rain is heavier as you drift awkwardly, checking your phone and contemplating your journey home.

“How - how are you getting home?” Jihoon asks, flipping his hood up over his dark hair.

You shrug. “Bus. Soonyoung dropped me off, not Junwoo.”

His lips press together as he shows a prolonged nod, kicking at the lino in his slides. You click through for the bus timetable, patting your pockets for your purse. You wonder what he’s waiting for, seeing as he drove here and the carpark for this side of the campus is underground and less than five minutes. He probably had staff parking too because of the radio show.

“Are you busy?” Jihoon asks suddenly, a little sharper than you’re used to.

You shoot him some side eye, tucking your phone away. “What...when?”

“Uh, now?”

You smile, shaking your head and stuffing your hands in your deep coat pockets. “Nope, I’m free.”

His shoulders perk up and he pulls his hood back down. Jihoon’s ears are going a little pink again as he turns back for the stairs further into the building. You feel the tentative excitement rolling off him, rubbing off on you so that you mirror his frame, your own shoulders tucking up around your ears. Every shuffle of your feet echo and the light sensor above you flashes red.

“Do you want to see my new song? I know you haven’t had the chance to see much of them.”

You’d mentioned - gently hounded, you hoped would be the best alternative term - before that you would be excited to hear some of his stuff. You’re already on your way back to the lifts.

“Absolutely! Lead the way.”

You lean over the soundboard, listening intently to the demo track. His voice is distinct, so unlike what you thought it might be. Still, it's versatile and powerful when combined with the lyrics. The beat is steady and you bounce your head along.

You glance to him, leant back in his seat watching you. "You wrote this? Like, all of this?"

He hums. "Yeah. It’s the track I got an HD for.”

Jihoon's arms are crossed and you feel bad that he has to feel defensive with you. You smile then gasp when the pretty singing becomes fluid rapping. His gaze turns with your reactions, concerned. Finally, you pull off the headphones as the minute and a half closes.

"I - singing, rapping! Composing? This is amazing, Ji! I'm so glad your major is music, otherwise your talent would be wasted for sure." You proclaim.

He ducks his head and fluffs at his hair with a smile. Jihoon seems unable to look at you and you let the bashfulness slide - not. You nudge at his chair so it spins.

"Wah, you act like no one has ever said that before!"

"I - it sounds a little different coming from you." he shrugs, still not looking. "Most of them are a little amazed or they're assessors with a job of picking it apart."

You nod and sigh. "Makes sense. Still. I hope you keep that track. I'd listen to it."

Jihoon beams before his sight slides to the digital clock sitting on a shelf - how very retro and efficient - eyes widening as he sits up straight.

“I - It’s almost midnight. We better head out.”

You can’t help but pout, standing up to push your chair in. “Yeah I’ve, of course, got princess things to attend to. Bumzu said you have class, don’t you?”

His slim fingers peek out of his navy sleeves, flying across the keyboard to turn everything off. “Uh-huh. I’m supposed to be doing the readings on it now, but It’s a pretty lax class so I should be able to get away with it.”

Your mouth is flapping silently like a fish, unable to form any coherent speech to reply with. Something not scolding, nor a joke, seeing as he’d just sacrificed his valuable study time to entertain you. Then he’s in the doorway, hand hovering over the light switch.

“Are you coming, Princess? Or am I leaving you in the dark?” Jihoon looks at you expectantly.

You gasp - mostly at the teasing name - and scuttle after him, breaking out into the dingy hall, yellowing walls and all. “I - yeah, sorry! Let’s go.”

(If Jihoon sings along to the radio on the way to yours, you don’t say anything. You’re grateful that he does the same for you when the Top 40 segment comes up in the thirty-five minute trip.)

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

The Wine Gang

Profiles 1 | 2

y/n (latebloomerr): sociable yet awkward student, currently studying art history at Pledis University. 1/3 of the og Wine Gang with an epic, longstanding crush on Jihoon, Mingyu’s cousin. The future princess of Amaide, a small country off the south west coast of Korea.

minghao (xuminghao_o): bone dry wit and straight to the point but will always hold your hair back if you puke. Fine arts student at Pledis University, majoring in fashion and photography. 2/3 of the og Wine Gang. 

mingyu (min9yu_k): yes he does the cooking, yes he does the cleaning. He also studies fashion as part of his fine arts degree at Pledis University. 3/3 of the og Wine Gang. Despite his family home being only half an hour from campus, he rents a flat with his cousin, Jihoon.

mapsu masterlist

#caratwritersclub #seventeen social media au #seventeen fic #seventeen au #woozi fic #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

The Hard Workers

Profiles 1 | 2

jihoon (lee.uji): awkward and gruff music producer to-be with an unparalleled dedication to his craft and those he cares about. second year music student at Pledis University and host of radio broadcast, Woozi Tunes. Harbours a growing interest for the future princess, y/n.

kwon soonyoung (ksy_1010): Amaide’s ambassador to South Korea. Loves his people and his country with all his heart. Also essentially y/n’s cousin on her grandfather’s side, and potential heir. Super sweet and bubbly - known in celebrity circles for his great personality.

Bonus: Twitter

dailychatter: a well-known tabloid media company, tracking anyone and everyone of relevance

mapsu masterlist

#caratwritersclub #seventeen social media au #seventeen fic #seventeen au #jihoon fic #woozi fic #mapsu fic #written

[gallivantingheart]

I FINISHED A CHAPTER AND A HALF OF MAPSU FINALLY

Will be up sometime in the next 24 hours!

Thank you for you patience and sorry for the wait!! 😘

#mapsu fic