#(Unfortunately those plus her hair are the -only- things straight about her amirite)

[more-than-a-princess]

She'd gone from champagne to wine to whiskey, and yet it hadn't felt like time had passed at all. The only indication was the empty bottles that had been taken away and Anzu's gradually increasing sense of comfort and ease amongst the hosts, King in particular. It would be impolite to show her shock, especially in a country where restrained physical affection was the norm, but Sonia couldn't believe how her friend regarded the hosts. Currently, Anzu was draped over Mr. King's lap with the sort of intimacy Sonia only found in committed, dating relationships and in turn, he seemed to be entirely comfortable with the state of things. She had to wonder if it was an act, or if he truly relished in such affections. Something about him gave her pause on his interest in women in general, but again, she was too polite to say.

"Is our scheduled time finished, then?" She asked, still unsure of how it all worked, particularly at the end. Did the hosts cut off clients who were too drunk, or did they simply not wish to pay for their time anymore? What she did know was that conversation had flowed smoothly, a testament to Mr. King's skill, and the bill was brought over discreetly. There was a subtle art of reaching for it before anyone else had the chance, and it was ingrained in her whenever she went out. It was a rare situation that someone was more financially well off than she was, and thus she felt responsible to cover whatever fees accrued. After all, she had been the one to suggest champagne.

But even the bill had earned several looks their way, from other patrons at their tables to, Sonia noticed out of the corner of her eye, about half a dozen hosts peeking out over Monsieur's shoulder from the curtain leading to the back of the club. They'd appeared for the early champagne call and now found it a challenge to hide their interest for the newcomer who had requested it. Just as well that they were leaving: once she settled the bill, her name would be recorded in the financial statement and she could be traced.

With Mr. King's departure, though, Anzu's full attention had returned to her and their evening together, this time sharing what Shinobu had planned for the very same night. "I am not opposed to ramen, that would be lovely. Thank you, Anzu-san," Sonia replied with a smile. Though, the question that sat on the tip of her tongue was 'Why would Yaguchi-san agree to a lame date? It sounds like a waste of time, if it is already considered to be unwelcome.' She had to remind herself that not everyone dated the way she did: careful, hesitant, and only agreeing if she truly felt some sort of pull, a connection, to the man who asked. She turned down far more requests than she agreed to, from anyone from princes and other members of the aristocracy to the likes of Kazuichi Soda (many, many times). Her friend, however, seemed to do the opposite: she agreed to far more than she turned down, if any. It all sounded rather taxing to Sonia, though she wouldn't voice it. To Anzu, at least.

"Thank you for your company and conversation this evening, Mr. King," Sonia told him as he approached the table with the bill and a credit card reader. "You and Monsieur have made this an intriguing and relaxing experience, I must commend your good work." She tapped her chip card against the reader with no hesitation. It was, perhaps, one of her faults: Sonia had little idea as to what made a total bill not be 'too bad.' She'd seen her uncle purchase several new cards at once, and her mother acquire enough luxury fashion in one trip to go well over six figures in Euros. While Anzu grimaced and Mr. King looked apologetic, Sonia was simply confused as the card reader gave an affirmative 'ding!' that her payment had been processed.

"Shall we be on our way?" She asked, before quietly thanking another host as he helped her into her coat. Doing up the buttons and belt, she grabbed her clutch and followed Anzu when she was ready. Her friend was far more familiar with the area after all, and had suggested a late dinner.

King smiled, giving Anzu another pat on the head as he nodded to Sonia. "I meet many interesting people in this job, from all sorts of walks of life. I think that sometimes people just like to have a space to gripe, no matter what their life outside here is like. Everyone likes to feel heard. Everyone wants to feel understood." A feeling even Anzu wasn't immune to, though at the moment, she was more content just to receive King's physical affection. "But then again, that's just my opinion."

Shinobu's fingers were already flipping through the bills in her wallet, carefully organized between 1000, 2000, and 5000 yen notes, before a hand reached out gently push the wallet to the tabletop. "Shinobu-san, what are you doing?" She looked up, catching the eyes of the woman across the table, smiling softly at her. "Oh," Shinobu murmured. "I thought we were ready to depart, so I was preparing to pay. If I misjudged that, then I regret doing so."

The laugh that followed from the other woman was gentle and kind. "That's not what I meant." Once it was clear that Shinobu wasn't reaching for her wallet any longer, she reached inside her coat, a mix of trendy and formal that, to Shinobu's eyes, made her the best-dressed person in the restaurant. It was at the same time that Shinobu noticed her nails, trimmed shorter than they had been the last time they'd met, and with the dark nail polish she remembered stripped off.

"I invited you." From her coat, she produced a small clutch, drawing out a handful of bills and laying them flat on the table. "And I picked the nice restaurant. I wasn't planning on making you pay." "Oh." Shinobu wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so instead merely stowed her wallet. "If you're sure, Miss Ji-yeon." So atypical was it in relation to their typical experience that Shinobu felt strangely about not covering the bill. "I'm sure," came the response, accompanied by another pleasant laugh.

"I'd thought you'd given up playing." "Hmm?" Ji-yeon tracked Shinobu's eyes to her hands, and then gave a sheepish grin. "Oh, you noticed. I guess not a lot gets past those eyes, huh?" She shrugged, turning her hands over to get a better look at them. "I didn't quit altogether, I just stopped performing. Nails don't get in the way too much when you're just playing for fun." For a moment a complicated expression grew on Ji-yeon's face, enough that Shinobu couldn't quite read her feelings. "It's a long story, but the university wants me to play at the end-of-year concert. It's a whole-" she waved her hand dismissively "- big thing. They were promoting me for a while, so they'd look bad if I didn't play."

Shinobu nodded, having found a more comfortable place for her own hands in her lap. "That's unfortunate. I thought you'd made your feelings clear, so it isn't fair for the administration to put you in an uncomfortable position like this. I'm sorry." Ji-yeon shook her head, forcing a smile. "It's not a big deal, Shinobu-san." The archer shook their head. "I just don't like the idea that your wishes were disrespected. It isn't your responsibility to clean up their messes." "Don't worry too much for my sake, okay? Besides, they're flying me in a Guadagnini to play with, so that should be fun."

There must have been some expression on her face, Shinobu realized, because Ji-yeon still seemed to be staring. "I know you're busy, but if you can make the time work, you should come, actually. If I'm going to be playing either way, I'd be happier knowing you were listening." Shinobu nodded, slowly. "...Mm. Please send me the details, and I'll try to be there." That earned a return to the earlier smile, as Ji-yeon gathered up her money and stood, moving to the other side of the table to help Shinobu up. "Great. It was really good to see you, Shinobu-san. Thanks for making time for me, but I'll let you get back to things now."

After more drinking, conversation, and borderline inappropriate physical contact between Anzu and her handsome men of choice, the night seemed to be coming to a close. The club, of course, would continue for a few hours more, though perhaps without the high school girls who had livened things up with an early champagne call. "I wanna staaay," Anzu mumbled, having, at some point, shifted positions so she was draped fully across King's lap like a cat. "But I have work in the morning, so we probably gotta go." Plus, she was starting to feel a bit tipsy, and an idea had popped into her head that required some planning and execution, and that couldn't be compromised.

King laughed, helping her back into a seated position. "As a host, I really should ask you to stay longer." He winked. "But I'm your friend, first." Once Anzu was upright, he stood, picking up the pieces of paper he'd scribbled notes to himself on throughout the night. "I'll go calculate your bill." After he'd taken his leave, Anzu grinned, directing her attention back to Sonia. "I just got a text from Shinobu-chan. She's done with what she was doing, and she's not too far away from here." With a soft, pleading expression that would put any doe-eyed starlet to shame, she clasped her hands together. "There's a really good ramen place where we could meet her in the middle? She's probably been on some lame date, so I bet she'd love to see us instead."

She, of course, could hold her liquor, and it looked like Sonia wasn't doing badly in that department, either, but still, getting some food in their stomachs probably would help. The ramen stall wasn't far from her theater, either, so it made slipping away easy. All according to her plan. "I'm hungry anyway, so if we wanna grab a quick dinner there, I'll cover it," she offered, as if that somehow offset the amount Sonia would be spending on their many, many drinks - an amount made plain as King returned to the table. "Between your accumulated credit, Anzu-san, and your new customer discount, Sonia-san, I don't think it's too bad?" To Anzu, that seemed like a result of King's unique perspective on things, as she lightly sucked in a breath. Yikes.

[welovekpopscenarios]

Cliches (Jimin x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Jimin request. He's the nerd at school and is unpopular and is bullied. Your popular and don't really pay attention to him even tho he try's to get your attention .Your boyfriend cheats on you and you fall and turn for the only person that has been interested in you from the start jimin

Fandom: BTS

Genre: Fluff, bit of angst

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 3040

Authors Note: Wow, what’s this? An actual story from me? Who would have thought because I’m such a disappointment amirite lmao. Thank you for the request! No hate to Jongin btw lol his name was the first that popped into my head. Hope this is ok since I kinda tweaked it a bit, and happy reading! I hope I can get back into the swing of things after my absence.

It’s debatable as to whether everyone loves or hates a cliché; but I think it’s agreeable that everyone hates being a cliché. Which, unfortunately, is how Jimin’s life ended up. As Taehyung had put it – the nerd who’s in love with the popular girl, the girl loved by everyone, the untouchable. Jimin gave him a swift punch to the shoulder for that one, he wasn’t a nerd, just…on the quieter, more introverted side. He may value my studies more than going out, but that doesn’t mean he’s a nerd, does it? (Taehyung begs to differ, but what does he know, he goes out all the time so of course he’d look like a nerd to him).

But, as much as he hates to say it, it was painfully true. Jimin was unmistakably in love with one of the most popular, most beautiful girls of his school. And while it normally wouldn’t stop him from talking to her or being her friend – after all, a person is a person, no matter their status – the fear of talking to a girl way out of his league, a girl surrounded by less than friendly faces, stops him from ever making a move, keeping interactions to the occasional heart-melting smile thrown his way in the halls, or the sweet little hello you say when you take your seat in front of him in your history class.

The pain is doubled by the fact that you have a boyfriend that you love undoubtedly, spending every moment possible in school with Jongin, arguably one of the douchiest, most self-centred assholes to grace the halls of this miserable institution. Well, that was according to Jimin. But no one really disagrees when he says he’s a horrible person, and a person completely undeserving of your never-ending love and care. You don’t deserve someone who brushes aside your opinions, who ignores you in favour of his phone, who blatantly stares at others girls asses while he’s unworthily graced with your presence, your light, your smiles…Jimin could go on and on for hours, honestly. (He has, but Namjoon had given him a whack on his head and told him he’s distracting him from his homework.)

You deserve someone who will always listen to your fears and worries, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you close to whisper sweet words of encouragement when you need it most. You deserve someone who will give you their undivided attention, for only you matter in the world to them. You deserve someone who will treat you like the queen you are, the most important person in the room and the only one who should be looked at.

Jimin could be that guy, if only for the stupid social classes keeping him at an unreachable distance, even when you sit as close to him as you do in history class.

“If you stare at her any longer flies are going to fly straight into your mouth,” Yoongi groaned from his position beside Jimin in the cafeteria. It was a dreary Thursday, stormy conditions forcing students to spend their only bout of freedom inside the confines of this prison so kindly labelled as ‘school’. The cafeteria was alive with chatter despite the gloominess of the rain pelting against the windows and the basic greys of the walls, students busy conversing about whatever gossip they had to share.

At Yoongi’s comment, Jimin shook his head and shut his mouth, returning his attention to the greasy fries the cafeteria offered as an excuse for lunch, and picked at them with his fork. Yoongi was obviously right, he had been staring at you, the only colourful thing capable of lighting up this room, shining brighter than any diamond possibl-

“Are you even listening?” Namjoon asked, and once again Jimin was caught off guard, jumping slightly at his voice and looking up at him with wide eyes. Namjoon scoffed in amusement. “You look like a deer that’s about to get run over. You have it bad.”

“I do not,” Jimin muttered indignantly, pushing his tray of fries away disinterestedly.

“Yes, you do,” Yoongi countered, rolling his eyes when Jimin pouted at him. “As Namjoon was saying, why don’t you actually say something to her other than a hello? You’ve talked to her before, I don’t get what the problem is now,” Yoongi rose a brow, his dark eyes zeroing in on Jimin who wilted embarrassingly underneath his heavy stare.

Yoongi wasn’t wrong. He did talk to you before, quite a bit actually. Years ago, when you had both started high school and were young, you had been paired up for a science project and worked together on creating a poster about the respiratory system for two weeks, and Jimin considers those two weeks to be both a blessing and a curse; for while he had fun and fell in love with you during those two weeks, he hasn’t been out of love with you since then. And despite getting along great, you both had never talked to one another since that project, instead staying on friendly terms.

“The problem is, is that she already has a boyfriend-“

“He’s a dim-witted dickhead,” Yoongi interrupted, smirking when Namjoon laughed around his sandwich at his alliteration. “She can do better, and you’re better. All you have to do is talk to her.”

Jimin sighed and scratched at his brow. “It’s not as easy as that, Yoongi,” Jimin mumbled, tired of hearing the same conversation over and over again. “Please just drop it.”

Namjoon gave him a look of pity while Yoongi just sighed and redirected his attention to his phone.

“All I’m saying is, you’re way better than Jongshit, you’re kind and smart. Everyone knows this. If she can’t see that then she’s as stupid as he his. All you have to do is talk to her, and she’ll know you’re the one for her. But fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, then I won’t bring it up. I’m sick of trying to tell you at this point. It’s been years, and if you’re content with pining for the rest of your life, or living with regret at not knowing what would have happened if you had just made a move, then be my guest. I’m not gonna help you anymore,” he ridiculed, and Jimin’s face burned hot in humiliation and anger. Yoongi can really get under people’s skin sometimes.

Noticing the growing tension at the table, Namjoon cleared his throat after sipping his water bottle, and brought attention to himself.

“I almost forgot to ask, are you both still coming to the dance on Saturday? It’s supposed to be a dance to raise funds for charity, everyone’s going,” he asked, eyes flitting between the two boys seated across from him. Yoongi shrugged indifferently, which could mean anything – it was Yoongi after all, but Jimin looked uncertain, biting at the skin of his plush lips and furrowing his brows.

“I don’t know…I don’t have a date…” he said quietly, running his fingers through his hair and grimacing down at the surface of the table. Namjoon chuckled lightly and shook his head.

“You don’t have to have one. No one cares if you don’t bring one to this dance, since it’s only a small one for charity. None of us in the group have dates, surprisingly. Not even Tae,” Namjoon laughed in disbelief, Yoongi huffing in amusement. “We were just going to go as a group, as friends. That’s what most people are doing anyway. So, you in?”

As a group? That didn’t seem so bad, and Jimin didn’t have to stress out about finding someone to go with him. Plus, he’ll probably see you, looking all pretty and elegant in a dress, dancing and swaying your hips to the beat, you’d catch his eyes and smile at him, beckoning him over by crooking a finger with a sultry look in your eyes…

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracked, and Namjoon choked on his spit from laughter. Even Yoongi laughed loudly, eyes crinkling at the edges at Jimin’s misfortune. Jimin cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m in,” he spoke deeply, eager to rectify the situation.

“Ok, we’re meeting at Hobi’s house at seven, don’t forget,” Namjoon informed after his laughter died down, gathering his things and standing up, slinging his bag over his shoulder just in time for the school bell to ring throughout the cafeteria and drown out the sounds of students groaning. “See you in English.” And with that, he shuffled out of the room with the rest of the students, Jimin and Yoongi quick to follow. Sparing one look at your form as you made your way down the halls with Jongin’s hand placed dangerously low on your back, Jimin sighed and headed into his geography class, the rain still going heavy outside.

It's amazing how, with a little preparation and creativity, someone can completely transform an ugly, smelly gym into a beautiful venue for people to have fun in. The ceiling had streamers and decorations of various shades of blue thrown around, the occasional silver being tossed in and adding a shimmering effect to the large room. Tables were set up around the edges of the room, offering classic bowls of punch and other non-alcoholic drinks issued by the school to keep teens quiet and peaceful. Glitter covered nearly every surface of the room possible, glowing as the gleam from the flickering disco lights hit it. People were up dancing in the centre of it all, leaving no room for Jesus as Jin had put it, grinding and moving as the cheap DJ blared the latest hits found on radio stations once everyone had paid the small fee at the entrance and settled in.

And where was Jimin in the middle of all this?

Leaning quietly against the farthest wall next to Jungkook, sipping on punch from a red cup as he watched the commotion in the room, eyes trained on your form as Jongin dragged you to dance and grinded uncomfortably into your hips from behind.

God, he really regrets agreeing to come.

He thought dancing might make him happier, and so when Hoseok asked him to come to the dance floor, he did. But that was quickly dashed when he found himself stuck in the heart of loud teenagers dancing sloppily, clearly having drunk too much of whatever they snuck into their drinks. So, retreating back to the edge and joining an equally bewildered and uncomfortable Jungkook, he was somewhat content to stay there until it was a reasonable time to leave. At least the money he paid will go to a good cause.

“I want to go home.”

He looked over to Jungkook, who looked annoyed at the loud music and screams filling the gym. Jimin nodded in agreement, sipping at his punch before answering Jungkook.

“Same, it’s not really my scene. I’d rather be at home, I still haven’t caught up with the newest episode of Game of Thrones and I’m sick of trying to avoid spoilers,” he laughed.

“It’s just too intense in here, so many people are drunk. I saw the guy from my chemistry class – Taihee – he had a bottle of vodka hidden in that huge jacket of his. He probably isn’t the only one,” he mused, biting the inside of his cheek and looking at the dancefloor with wide eyes.

“That’s what happens, I suppose. When you’re young and want to have a good time,” he replied, eyes finding you once more. You looked so beautiful tonight, as you usually do. All done up, dancing without a care in the world and smiling that gorgeous goofy smile you have that makes Jimin’s heart beat faster than the speed of sound. If only that heart wrenching smile was aimed at him, only for him.

“I think it’s kind of stupid,” Jungkook said, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. Jimin looked over at him anew, a brow raised in question. “I mean, do you have to drink to have a good time? You can have fun in other ways,” he sneered, tutting when someone fell over onto their ass in their drunken stupor.

“That’s some people’s way of having fun, I guess. Some people just prefer to drink,” he countered. He heard Jongin’s loud, annoying laughter in the background even over the music, but elected to ignore it. “In my opinion, I agree, though. There are better ways to have fun. Ways that don’t harm people.”

Jungkook laughed. “Always thinking of people, Jimin,” he beamed, laughing harder as Jimin scowled playfully and turned back to the throng of teenagers dancing. Scanning the crowd for you, his stomach drop when he realised you were no longer in the room after searching three times.

But he did notice Jongin groping some girl instead of you.

Jungkook was saying something to him, most likely about the new Overwatch update, but Jimin excused himself, claiming he had to get air. Really he just wanted to look for you. Because while he thought Jongin was a sleazeball, he didn’t think he’d have the gall to dance with another girl like that in front of you.

Exiting the back doors, Jimin found he did have to look long, seeing you curled up in a ball behind the shed holding the sports equipment. As he walked closer, he realised you were shaking, sobbing uncontrollably into your folded arms, and his heart broke. He never wanted to see you like this, you should never be like this, and never in his life had he wanted to punch Jongin more. He hesitated to approach you, but you heard him, lifting your head up to expose your mascara stained face, furiously wiping at your tears in a vain attempt to get them to stop.

“Are…are you ok?” Jimin asked lamely, and he winced at how stupid he sounded. You sniffed and nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, I am,” your voice was shaky, and you laughed weakly, “it’s just, men are assholes. No offence.”

Jimin chuckled. “None taken,” he answers, moving tentatively closer. When you didn’t object, he sat down beside you, keeping his gaze on his shoes in front of him as he stretches his legs out. It’s quiet for a moment except for the occasional sniffle from you, until he breaks the silence again. “Want to tell me what’s wrong? Might help you.”

You remain quiet, gathering yourself, before blurting: “Jongin cheated on me with Dohee. And he kissed her right in front of my eyes. And he wasn’t even sorry about it.” Finishing your sentence, you broke down into more sobs, and immediately Jimin pushed his nerves away and brought you close to his side, wrapping his arm around you and pushing your hair behind your ear as you hid your face in his chest. He whispered little reassurances in your ear as you cried, endless tears never ceasing.

After a while, when your weeping had died down to muffled whimpers, Jimin spoke up.

“I know it might not mean much, but do you want to know what I think? I think you deserve much better than someone like Jongin. You deserve the whole world, and all the love in it. You’re so incredibly kind, and sweet, and so very beautiful it almost hurts. You’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and Jongin is crazy for making the mistake of doing this. If he’s too blind to see the incredible girl he had, then he’s better off not having you at all. He missed out on having a queen by his side. It’s his loss. You deserve someone who treats you as if you’re their whole world.”

You went still underneath his arms, and Jimin had a sudden lapse of fear, afraid he overstepped his boundaries. You slowly released yourself from his hold and regarded him with glassy eyes wide in wonder, mouth slightly agape. He gulped under your stare, eyes shifting nervously around as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“Jimin, I…thank you. Thank you so much,” you laughed, smiling a watery smile at him. “Jongin never said anything like that to me before, I never knew how much I needed to hear it before you said it. I…wow.”

“Y-you…you know my name?” he asked in amazement, and you gave a louder laugh, that marvellous smile of yours on your face properly this time and Jimin nearly fainted at the fact he caused it.

“Of course I do, we were partners on that project in biology years ago. I always see you in the halls too,” you informed, pausing in thought. “I always wondered why we never talked after the project, I really liked talking to you.”

What was that sound? Was it angels singing? Was it horns blaring? Was it drums beating? He was pretty sure the drums were actually his heart hammering in his chest at your words, and if he were standing, he was almost certain his knees would have given out and allowed him to drop to the floor. His mind was foggy, a different kind of drunk overcoming his senses than the type teenagers in the gym were experiencing right now, and this feeling must have been responsible for the confidence that flooded his veins in that moment, for he knew his next words were something he’d never say on a regular day.

“Do you want to have lunch next week? With me? You can choose where we go, I just…” he trailed off, lost in your eyes and skimming across your lovely features. Features that turned slightly apprehensive at his suggestion, causing that confidence to leave his body like water rushing from a tap.

“It’s…it might be too soon for anything,” you started, and disappointment filled Jimin’s core, but it was quickly replaced by confusion when you smiled at him. “But, I think we have a lot of catching up to do. So, why don’t we continue this conversation at the burger joint near school?”

Jimin hates clichés. He really does. But the cliché in which the popular girl goes out with the school nerd?

Now that’s a cliché Jimin doesn’t mind.