Dreaming Boy

dreaming boy

title: dreaming boy pairing: nonbinary!jimin x nonbinary!reader (afab) ; namjoon x reader genre: fluff, angst others: adapted from a poem from sarah kay entitled "dreaming boy", college au, masc oc and femme jimin, they still use gendered terms and pronouns voluntarily (he for jimin and she for reader), wc: 5.8k warnings: mature themes, gender confusion, awful judgemental people, implied sex (fairly sfw), tackles gender labels, one girl is completely out of it and pushes herself to reader but nothing happens disclaimer: this work is purely fiction. it does not wish to change jimin's real gender identity, whatever it may be. if i ever wrote something in this that may seem offensive or uneducated, please do feel free to tell me about it. i know that gender and sexuality has many grey areas and i do not wish to offend anyone. note: this is an edited and reposted version of a story i wrote from my old blog. you can find the post here. summary: ever since you were old enough to have boobs, all the people around you already caged you in a label you don't feel particularly attached to. with how you talk, walk, and dress, everyone just assumed that you are. so, you try and search a label for yourself but fail miserably. that is, until jimin comes along and shows you labels are just there to cage you.

In most of the dreams you remember from childhood, you were a boy.

Mudded knees and heels, you would raise your fist up high. The maiden in the tower, thankful as you rescued her. She would hug you and you would feel content. But it was not the maiden that made you feel that way. You know this because, in other dreams you had, you were not rescuing someone in particular. You were just a boy. Definitely a boy. No maidens that needed saving but it excited you.

Dreaming seemed to be not enough. You want to live that excitement when the sun rises too. So when you reached middle school, while the other girls wore skirts and pretty tops that some were already starting to fill out with their gorgeous body shapes,  you walked the halls with your oversized shirts and snapbacks, hiding whatever feminine shapes you would grow to have. With the hell that is school and the abundance of unneeded stares and gossip from people you know, the scraps from all the people in that middle school have already labeled you with a word. “Lesbian,” they said. That’s what you are. Though, you never confirmed it to anyone, for it is not a word that you feel connected to at all when you sneaked into the computer room of your middle school to google search what it meant. Girls are pretty, sure. You can see yourself falling in love with them, but really, you don't even know what falling in love really meant. But to be associated with the word just doesn’t seem right.

You wondered if you can dream yourself a gender. One that’s only yours. One that makes sense to you. 

That word hung to you in high school.

While the popular kids’ girls would look at you in disgust and discomfort like you were immediately attracted to them just with one glance, a guy actually tried to kiss you at one party during junior year in high school. Most of you were fairly drunk, being newly introduced to alcohol. It was a classic game of seven in minutes in heaven and the other boys in class rudely commented to “Just compare dicks or something, I guess.” when they locked you in the room.

He was so nice and tall. He asked you if you really liked girls. And you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said.

His dimples were cute and he was pretty smart too. He was a lowkey kind of dude called Namjoon. He says he actually never had his first kiss and before you stopped your words, they came out of your mouth like a cannonball. 

“Do you want to kiss?”

His eyes widened and asked if you were sure. A part of you liked him and thought he was cute enough to be your first kiss. But also a hidden part of you is doing this to prove that word wrong. He smiled and showed you his dimple cheeks and leaned in. When your lips touch, to your surprise, you actually liked it. Your heart fluttered and butterflies flew in your stomach. So the next day, you still wore your oversized shirt but lost your snapback and let down your beautiful long hair. The next day after that, you walked the halls hand in hand with Namjoon, surprising everyone who starred and gossiped about you.

You dreamt of the ocean for weeks, never in control of your limbs.

He made you feel special. He would write you notes and put them in your locker. In your first month together, he got you a cute charm bracelet. And every month, he added a charm. You liked Namjoon. You really did. Eventually, you stopped hearing the word. And it didn’t bother you anymore. Next to Namjoon, you were a convincing enough girl. You still liked your sneakers and your oversized shirts, but sometimes you would trade your pants for simple jean shorts that would show your pretty, long legs. He said he liked them and you liked that. People seemed to think that you were now a girl and somehow you are convinced too. At least, when you were awake.

At night, you were Batman. At night, a fireman. At night, a boy with muscles in boy places, a firm hand, and a direction to run.

And so, the excitement was gone and once again it felt wrong.

Namjoon felt wrong. And he sensed that too so you cried on his chest that night in his room. You were frustrated with yourself. So was the word that was thrust to you right after all? You thought. Namjoon hugged you that night and you know he was holding back his tears. He wished for you to figure things out soon and promised he will be there for you. Senior year, you were still friends with Namjoon and still hung out with him but people around you quickly picked up that you were no longer in a relationship. Some say you finally realized your true sexuality but more are just convinced you broke up on your own terms. Namjoon didn’t really care about what they were saying about you and him. Maybe that’s why you like him so much. So you stuck by his side until you graduated high school and he let you.

It may not have worked, but at least a friendship was formed. He listens but still... no one really understood you or related to you.

College came by and you were welcomed by different kinds of people.

Suddenly, everyone is no longer just gossiping scraps from the popular kids table. Everyone is discovering themselves in their own kind of way. Well, people still talk, but not really to bully. Talk is all people are really gonna do, you settled with yourself. By that time, it didn’t bother you anymore; even without Namjoon by your side. With his top-notch brain, Namjoon got into a top medical university. You, on the other hand, studied Engineering and ended up in a pretty decent university an hour away. Despite that, you still kept in touch. Still, studies are a mess and the both of you were distracted enough to only text or meet each other a few times a month.

Parties are a mess too, you learned. Frat parties are the worst. Everyone is either making out, grinding with one another, getting drunk, or getting high. Exploring. That’s what everyone said they’re doing. Being newly adults, everyone is eager to try things they haven’t before. And so were you.

That’s where you met Momo. She was a sorority girl who attended the frat party you came to one Friday night. She had this beautiful dark hair and eyes that lured you in. The both of you grinded on the dance floor and felt each other’s bodies.

She was the very first girl you kissed.

It was nice but... you didn’t like it as much as with Namjoon. Maybe it was the way your faces melted into each other. Maybe it was the way your mind searched for stubble or the hard jaw or the cinnamon scent. You couldn’t breathe through all her lilac perfume. And so that ended on the dance floor.

That night, you dreamt of being lost in the forest, of a terrible tidal wave.

If you were not a “lesbian,” what possible explanation do you have? What words could you tie around this treacherous heart, the impossible hunger, your miserable mind?

Three college parties later and you were back again with your friends, a red cup in your hand filled with mixed alcohol that your friend gave you. You have tried to kiss multiple boys and girls after that, desperate to find an answer for yourself. Soon, you just gave up, settling that you were fine with making out and fucking a few guys here and there but never getting into a relationship with them.

Until he came along.

You were dancing with your intoxicated friends on the dance floor when you laid your eyes on him. He strutted into that party with his pink hair and striped purple sweater like he owned the place. From a group of people behind you, you heard someone say, “Oh, he’s definitely gay.”

That was a confusion you recognize.

You found out that he was good at dancing, great, even. He wowed everyone on the dance floor and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You then began to stare at him the whole night. Like an eagle eyeing its prey. He was so sure of himself, so forgiving, so gentle but at the same time so confident. You were intrigued.

And so since college is all about exploring, you wanted him to explore you too.

At the next party, you made it a mission to be close to him. You made your way beside him when he was getting himself a drink before maybe heading to the dance floor to show everyone how it should be once again. You got a clean cup while he was pouring in his and you began to talk.

“You here to grace us with your dancing again?” You smirk and stretch your right hand to get the bottle of vodka a bit far from his left. Your chest bumped with the right side of his upper body and your face was mere inches away from each other. Your eyes stared at his and you can clearly see the way his cheeks tinted pink because of the interaction. It was cute how he found your subtle but obvious flirting gesture enough to be flustered. When your hands clasped the bottle, you stared for a few more seconds and then moved away.

It was when you pour the drink into your cup that he snaps back to reality.

“Well?” you ask.

“U-uhh. Yeah. I guess.”

You nod. “I’ll go and watch when you do, pinky," you nicknamed him, referring to his prettily dyed hair.

And just a few minutes after, you see him already making his way to where everyone was dancing. His body moved gracefully as he danced to that one famous girl group song. It felt like the walls were leaning close to him when he danced, everyone watched in awe and cheered. When he was done, everyone applauded him and his friends fist bumped, hugged, and pushed him in excitement. Then he stayed on the dance floor and danced with everybody else.

You learned from your friends that he was a dancing major. They never really heard of him dating so they weren’t sure where you would lie with him. But he looked pretty interested earlier. And now, as he stared you down while he was swaying to the beat of the DJ.

You walked over to him through the bodies that were grinding against you. When you reached him, he smirked. “Did that live up to your expectations?” You grinned and brought your face closer to his. “That was even better, baby boy.” And you danced with each other the whole night.

When you wasted the night away and the party was about to go down, you asked him if he wanted to go home with you, clearly making hints of sex.

He gave you a cute smile and nodded. “Sure,” he said. You weren't expecting him to agree.

When you reached your place, you made him sit on your bed and he looked at all your posters of rock bands, anime, and Marvel superheroes in the room. You also had a few of your Funko Pop collections displayed on the shelf, the rest were safe at home.

“Do you like Marvel movies?” You asked. He nodded. “I do. My favorite is Captain America.” You nod and pull up your downloaded Captain America: The Winter Soldier from your hard drive of illegally downloaded movies. You set down your laptop in the middle and watched side by side on the bed.

15 minutes into the movie later, you placed your hand on top of his and caressed it. He made the next move to hold it and you continued to caress it with your thumb. If you two started the movie with space in between, there was none of it now but the warmth of your body heat next to each other.

You look away from the laptop screen and look at him, your faces merely inches away from each other.

He looked at you with expecting eyes, pretty and glistening. He was so pretty that you decided to make the first move and kissed him.

The kiss was soft. It was nice. Better than Namjoon’s. He had the missing piece you were always looking for but you could never point out what it is out. When you pushed the kiss deeper and placed your hand against his ribcage to push him down. He pulled away and removed your hand from his. He looked at you with lust but sincerity in his eyes.

“Can we take it slow?” He asked.

You nodded and went back to sitting down. Suddenly, you felt like a fourteen-year-old trying to get a bra strap off. You watched the movie in silence but still held hands. He didn’t find it awkward like you kind of did since you still feel a tiny pang of embarrassment when you tried to deepen the kiss, wondering if you miscalculated things.

Maybe he wasn’t interested in you that way. Maybe he just wanted to be friends.

He spent the night anyway and you lay next to each other breathing, the tiny bed leaving your hand inches away from his boxer shorts twitching under the covers. You do your best not to touch him in any way.

The morning light has slipped into your room when you wake up. He was still sound asleep beside you, curled up against you while you hugged him from behind. You remember the events from last night and can’t help but cringe a little. Unfortunately, you had a makeup Saturday class in less than an hour because your professor had a conflict with his schedule during the weekday and you hoped he would wake up before you leave. He didn’t though. So you left him a note, a glass of water, and medicine for a hangover if ever he had one.

When you got back in the afternoon, you found that your bed was made. The clothes on the floor were cleaned up and tossed into the used bin. You were always kind of messy and you weren’t proud of that. You found that a few of your clean clothes were folded as well. You felt a tug in your heart at the small gesture.

Hours later, he texted you. You gave him your number on the note and told him to save it and you were so glad he did.

Thank you for last night xx — This is Chim! 💜

You giggled at the little nickname he got for himself and the purple heart emoji he put right beside it.

You’re welcome, Jimin. Thank you for kinda fixing up my room. Sorry I’m such a mess. You didn’t have to do that.

Nonsense. It was the least I can do when you let me stay the night babe.

You blushed at the nickname. You then realized that you have it bad and hoped that your tiny crush would go away and not develop into something more.

It didn’t go away.

Jimin and you became two peas in a pod, doing everything together. Sometimes, he would go to your department just so he could eat lunch with you at the university. During parties, you would not leave each other’s side even when some guys (and girls) would try and hook up with you. When you talk to others with the intent of going somewhere that leads to going to a secluded place, you would always find him sulking in the corner somewhere and staring at you. You found it cute and that would lead you back to him.

He does the most random things, you learned.

Out of nowhere, he learned the flute and knocked on your door at 12 in the morning to play it for you. He sang your songs while he played. At that moment, you really wondered if this man fell from heaven.

“Are you a secret angel? Confess now.” You asked him. His voice was so soothing and angelic like his whole personality and face is not enough to convince you that. He chuckled and winked. “Will never tell my secret.”

He also liked picking flowers from where he wasn’t supposed to. Once in a while, he would give you those flowers. Not only you though. He’ll leave a piece outside the door of every room on your floor. He says that everyone deserves a little flower sometimes. And he says it with a piece of flower stuck in his ear.

On your birthday, he surprised you with a triple-layer cake that he baked overnight in your place while you slept. You walked into him in your kitchen trying to ice it. You watched him, with his shirtless torso on display, put the icing into a tube and you thought you have never loved a body the way you loved his at that moment.

“Oh, you’re awake. Happy birthday, darling.” He greets you when he sees you in your oversized shirt and nested hair. You didn’t have pants on but you were comfortable enough to look like that around him. You snapped out of your thoughts on his body when you heard him speak and he gave you one of the best birthdays in your life.

It was another lazy day and you were on the couch with Jimin. He was making you watch a romcom that was his favorite when the doorbell rang. You asked him if he ordered anything because you didn’t and he shook his head. You stood up to answer the door. When you opened the door, a tall, dimpled guy came into view.

“Joonie!” You screamed and jumped at him. He laughed and picked you up from where you jumped and wrapped your legs around him.

“There’s my favorite girl,” Namjoon said and hugged you tight.

When he let you back down, you express your glee. “What the fuck brought you here, man? I fucking missed you.”

You punched his chest lightly. He gasps dramatically and rubs his chest. “Med school is stressing me out lately and my friends told me I should let out some steam so I decided to visit my favorite person that’s only an hour away.” He says.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh. Okay? I’m the only option because you can’t drive?” You tease him.

Namjoon still didn’t have a license so he takes the bus when it is time to go home. He prefers riding his bike and decided that driving cars just wasn’t for him. Besides, he has you to drive him home during the holidays anyway.

“Y/N?” Jimin called from the couch. You noticed he has paused the movie and was now looking at you two, waiting for himself to be acknowledged.

“Oh. I didn’t know you had someone over. I should’ve called but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Namjoon said.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon. I’m Y/N’s best friend-slash-ex-boyfriend.” He introduced himself with what our high school classmates used to call us.

You sighed. “Shut up, Joon. Jimin, this is Joon. Joon, this is Jimin, my friend here in college.” You wondered if a friend is the right term at the moment. It was true though. You didn’t have any labels. Even if you have kissed once or thrice and cuddled more than friends should have.

“Yes, I’m Y/N’s friend.” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. “Nice to meet you.” Jimin didn’t smile back which was unusual for him. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“You can go and sit down. We’re watching a movie.” You said to Namjoon who handed you something in a paper bag.

“I got you your favorite chocolate croissant and a bottle of cheap wine we could drink.” You accepted it and scoffed.

“Woah, Joon. You’re getting fancy. Are the rich kids in that med school making you like this?” You said and kept the food in the kitchen to eat later.

“Do you guys want some food? We could order out.” You asked the guys sitting on your couch.

“Pizza?” Joon asked and you nodded.

You sat in between them and brought out your phone. You went to the delivery app and picked out the pizza flavor.

“Hawaiian?” Joon asked as he saw you pick out the flavor he knows you don’t like. Jimin loves it though and you just got used to ordering it.

“Yeah.” You say nothing more, afraid that he’ll expose you and that you hate the pineapple on top of it. It’s a good thing he didn’t say more.

“What are we watching, by the way?” Namjoon asks while Jimin still sits there quietly. You look over to Jimin for help. You forgot the title of the film.

“Oh. Uhm. Legally Blonde.” Jimin answered.

Namjoon nodded. “Oh. Nice. Y/N doesn’t really watch romcoms so I got confused for a bit. I guess our little Y/N is kinda changing, huh.” You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Joon.”

The moment the movie ended and your food was finished, Jimin began to gather his things. “I think I need to go. Got things to do.” He says, not looking at you in the eyes. He didn't bother waiting for your response and headed out the door.

“Chim?” You caught his wrist when you followed him just outside your door. He looked back at you and smiled, except, you noticed it was not the same smile he gives you. There was something else underneath it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him. “You told me you were free today. Come and hang out with me and Joon tonight.” You pleaded.

He shook his head and tilted his head up. He pressed his lips together. “Something came up. Besides, I should let you catch up with your best friend, Y/N.” He says and wiggles his wrist out of your hand.

“Woah, woah, man. We’re okay, right? What did I do?” You press him again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He turns around and walks off.

You tilted your head in confusion and felt as if your heart dropped. You didn’t like this feeling. You didn’t like him walking away from you like that. Your brain was telling you to reach out once again, run after him and hug him from behind but your feet stood planted on the ground like a fool not able to follow orders from its master. You couldn’t move as you wondered what was wrong with the special someone you can only call a friend.

The moment you stepped back in your place, you found Namjoon already waiting for you on the couch with his elbow propped up on the backrest of the sofa and his cheek leaning to his palm.

“So when were you gonna tell me about this Jimin that you’re in love with?” He teased.

“Shut up, Joon. I’m not fucking in love with him.” You say as you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“Please, Y/N. You’re so fucking whipped for that dude. You never even considered eating Hawaiian when we hang out even though it’s my favorite and you always get to choose the movie during our marathons.” He pointed it out and you realized he was right but you brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Whatever Joon, people’s tastes can change. Also, you have the worst choices in movies that’s why. Your boring ass would choose a fishing documentary over fucking Kingsman.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you looked at him. It’s something else.” He pushes once again.

Hours later, the dark filled in the day and the two of you were drinking the wine Joon brought.

And like he predicted, you caved.

“It’s just! How the fuck am I supposed to do this, Joon?! He’s so confusing! One minute, I think he does like me the way I like him, and the next, I feel like he’s gonna push me away in disgust bc I have a fucking coochie! I don’t know anymore, Joon.” You screamed and hit Joon’s lap with your hand repeatedly.

“God, can you not hit me for one second?” He says as he pushes your hand away. You pout and sulked alone on your part of the couch.

“Sorry.” You took a gulp of the cheap wine in your mug. A reminder to yourself that you should get some cheap wine glasses to go along with it next time.

“I’m a mess. Always have been.” You mumble the last part to yourself, but knowing the small apartment and the quiet atmosphere, you were sure Namjoon heard it.

“Hey,” Namjoon scooted closer to you. “You remember that time when we got into 7 minutes in heaven?” He asks you and puts an arm around your shoulder.

You groan. “Not the time to talk about our origin story, Joon.” He tch-ed.

“No, you don’t understand. That’s exactly what you need. A fucking talk. When we were in that silly party game, what did I ask you?” You pause to think.

“You asked me if I really liked girls?” You were unsure of your own words, but not because you don’t remember. It was because you were unsure where the conversation was going. He nods.

“So? Go fucking ask him.”

“You want me to ask him if he likes men?” You repeat him, asking if he's serious.

He nods again and pats your back. You laugh in disbelief. “No fucking way, dude. We’re in too fucking deep to talk about it, I think.”

Namjoon took a sip of his wine. “Are you sure? Or are you just scared of his answer?”

You pause your drinking midway. Obviously, Namjoon got to you.

You understood, though. This man beside you has known your secrets, your thoughts, just with the two years you spent with him. When you were at your peak confusion, he was there to be poured your feelings. He really is your best friend and you loved him because he was so kind and so understanding like this.

“Communication is always difficult, Y/N. We know that. That’s what happened to us, right? We talked things out well and we fixed things. Look at us now, we’re like freaking Batman and Robin.”

And you can’t help to think that he was right. Maybe it was time to talk things down.

“Obviously, I’m Batman.” You say and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

"That you are."

You texted Jimin to meet you at one party in a club next Friday. When you got there, the pink-haired boy was nowhere to be found. You spot one of your mutual friends and you walk over to her.

“Y/N! You fucking hot bitch. Look at you!” She screams as she takes in your look. You wore black cargo pants and a black bralette with a fishnet top over it. From her look, she looks absolutely wrecked already.

“Fuck, Jen. What did you take?” You ask her and she giggled.

“A magician…” She tumbles to your chest and you hold her up “…never tells her secret.”

Her head tilts back and you groan. “Have you seen Jimin?” You ask her.

She giggles again and brings her hands up to her hair and plays with it, tossing it. “Y/N. Fucking kiss me, please. I’m so horny right now. And you’re so hot. You go both ways right?” She brings her body closer to yours and grinds on it.

You sighed and ignored her pleas. “Jen, please. Have you seen Jimin?” You ask once again as you try to keep her feet planted on the ground.

She smiled. “Oh! Chimchim! That little gay man! He’s there with Kookie. I think they were like fucking each other on the dance floor earlier or something.” She points to the dance floor where you do spot the pink-haired boy dancing with an ebony-haired man. You try and ignore the names he called your friend.

Jungkook was a hot photography major. He had long permed hair that fit him well. His right arm had a sleeve tattoo, complimenting his lean but thick muscular body.

And just like that, your heart sunk again.

Jen continued to try and dance her hips to you while you stared at the boy just a few meters away. You looked at him with pain in your eyes. And like he sensed the pair of eyes watching him, his eyes met yours. It widens when he sees your face. So you looked away and brought your attention back to the wasted girl in front of you.

You brought out your phone and booked an Uber to bring the girl home. She was not safe in this atmosphere at all. Jen began to plant kisses on your cheek, which you really didn’t mind. She was usually a clingy girl. You worried that someone else might take it the wrong way.

As soon as you brought back Jen to her place, she slept like a log on her bed. The club was only 15 minutes away and you still wanted to go back to talk to Jimin. You hoped he was still there.

And he wasn’t.

Your heart sunk. Did he go home with Jungkook? Did he lay the boy you love on his bed? Did he kiss him and did he place his hands on that beautiful body of his? Did Jimin accept him? Did he not push his hand away and tell him to take it slow? Will he let himself be the small spoon in his arms tonight?

You drank yourself to waste in that club. Hiding in a corner with one of your friends who tried to talk to you but you shrugged them off and they let you drink by yourself and only watched you. When you felt like you had enough before you cannot physically go home, you bid them goodbye.

Before completely going home, you let yourself sober up alone. You sat on one of the swings in a park and let your thoughts consume you. It wasn’t until someone was nudging you awake that you realized that you dozed off. A man who looked to be in a security guard uniform told you you should go home because it’s late at night. You quickly said your sorry and stood up.'

You dreadily walked back to your apartment. It felt like when you get home, all you can think about is how he smelt on your bed. How he smiled against your hold under the sheets. How sometimes, he would face you and slip his head to your neck and you could feel how he breathes in sync with yours.

But what you find against your locked door isn’t something you expect to see.

There was the pink haired boy you love so much. Sitting on the ground and his face is buried on his knees.

“J-jimin?” You stuttered, not believing your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He lifts his head and reveals his red and swollen eyes. Tears fell from his face. You fell to your knees in front of him at the sight of him crying. You hugged him tight.

“What the fuck happened? Did Jungkook do this to you?” You asked, anger seeping through you. How dare anyone make your angel cry?

He didn’t answer and it didn’t look like he would answer. So your next move was not to press further and make him rest. You guided him to your bed and lay him there. He stopped crying but never stopped staring at you as you readied yourself to bed. While you removed your make-up and changed your clothes to an oversized shirt and panties, he only stared at you.

“Y/N?”

He stared at you with glossy and tired eyes. His face was all fluffy and swollen from crying.

“Can you please hold me to sleep?”

And so you did.

When you wake up, Jimin is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing you. You sat up and he sensed your movement, turning back around. “Good morning.” You say and he gave you a smile so little you almost felt like you hallucinated it.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” You ask him. He shook his head. “It’s not Jungkook. Nothing happened.” He assures you and you furrow your brows together. “Then why?”

He didn’t answer. The silence weighed down on you. It felt like now or never.

You placed a hand on top of his that laid flat on the bed.

“Jimin.” He stared at the hand on top of his then back at your eyes.

“Do you want to date boys?”

You held your breath for a long, quiet moment while he thought of an answer. And when he finally opened his mouth, your heart was ready to fall to the ground.

“I haven’t met one that I’d like to date yet.” He answers you.

So he did like boys. You thought to yourself as you feel your hand unconsciously slip away on top of his.

But he caught it just before it made its way back to your side.

His eyes teared up again.

“And right now, I’m pretty in love with you, if that’s okay.”

He said and held your hand and kissed it.

You teared up as well at the confession. You smiled so wide and let the tears pour out like a waterfall.

Jimin buried his face in your hand that he was holding. “Please.”

He begs. “Please tell me you didn’t go home with Jen that night. Please don’t tell me the reason you came home so late was because you held her in your arms.”

And suddenly everything made sense.

He was crying at your door because of you. You cried for him for the same reason he cried for you. And you thought, How dumb we are, Jimin? What useless lovesick fools are you we?

You shake your head. “I am only ever in love with you, Jimin. You’re my angel.” And you brought his face up to yours and kissed him like the gift he is from heaven.

With Jimin, you did not crave the language you always thought you needed. With Jimin, just loving is okay. And it didn’t have to matter what anyone would say. Love is in its purest form when it’s with Jimin. He didn’t feel like the last puzzle piece that would complete you, the one you’ve been looking for your whole life to give you the answer. With Jimin, you didn’t feel like a big question mark. It felt like you’ve always been whole. And you are. Always have been.

And just like that, a hand reached backwards into a faraway dream and said, “come on then, we’ve got a maiden to save.”

You guess what you’re saying is that Jimin makes you feel like a boy, like the boy you’ve always been. At night, you climb trees and wear cargo shorts. You steal buildings and build fires. When you are awake, you are curled around his back, the happiest big spoon in the drawer. He is naked and heavy-breathing, the man you love.

You hold his body like the gift it is, and safely sink back into dreams.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.

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𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽

➺ Character: Levi Ackerman.

➺ Reader: afab!reader

➺ Words: 8 316

➺ Summary: Levi Ackerman. Duke Ackerman. A mysterious, stern man who never strays from the straight and narrow, whether by choice or because of his hectic schedule, no one knows and no one wants to know, because this social season, they say, he's planning to take a wife. To your best parade ladies, the most coveted bachelor is finally available…

➺ Warning: Misogyny. Women are seen as reproducers. It's not a smut, but it's tendentious.

➺ A/n: I've watched so much Queen Charlotte and Bridgertone that I wanted to write something in that kind of historical universe. Haha… that ties in with my love of historical manhwa. English is not my first language. Sorry for the mistakes.

"Are you ready for the new social season, Ackerman?

Slumped against the comfortable back of the imposing office chair, the principal concerned didn't even bother to look up from his documents. Not out of concentration but to avoid being confronted with the irritating sight of that shit-eating, mocking smile on his friend's lips. His hand, holding a quill, continued to scratch the paper, drowning the sheet under the jet-haired man's beautiful cursive handwriting. He was doing all he could to divert his attention from the noisy, annoying ramblings of this over-talkative individual who doesn't know when to stop talking. The social season was far from his first and he hoped it would be his last. To take a respectable wife and finally be rid of the target that all the carnivorous mothers were staring at behind his back.

"Levi Ackerman. The most coveted bachelor since Duke Smith was taken off the marital market. Smith has found himself a charming little wife who fills him with happiness. And who will you find to warm your cold heart and sour mood? Will you have a sweet little loving wife? Maybe you'll have a carbon copy of yourself, which I wouldn't wish on any of the servants in your homes. Putting up with you alone is enough, so a woman like you…" "Hange, if you've got nothing better to do, get the hell out of my house." "Aw Ackerman, you're so rude! I'm sick to my stomach."

Levi looked up briefly from his documents to shoot a bored glance at the person in front of his desk who was feigning a deep wound in his heart. He snorted in disdain before diving back into his urgent business, all the while continuing to ignore Hange's mocking and playful monologue. He didn't need to be reminded of the social seasons. He still remembered perfectly how many people gathered around him at every ball he had the misfortune to attend. At the time, Erwin Smith was also single, which eased some of the pressure from mothers eager to find a good match for their daughters. But now he was married, forcing Levi to face the demons alone in the elegant clothes of a noblewoman called mother. Worst of all, rumour had it that he was planning to take a wife. It wasn't a lie; he intended to declare his intentions and take the hand of a young woman who would meet his standards, which he was forced to lower in the hope of finding someone. However, this rumour would fuel the ambition of these mothers. He could already see himself in a ballroom, unable to take a single step without being interrupted by one of them. Levi could bet his hand that the person behind the rumour was standing right in front of him.

"Erwin was lucky to find someone who makes his heart beat. If I don't rule out love, it's the last thing that's going to enter into my calculations. I need a duchess. A woman who can host and organise receptions and welcome foreign dignitaries. I need someone who can manage high society and the heritage of our estates while giving birth to my children. She must have the shoulders and spirit to handle the duties of a duchess. She must have the dignity and poise that comes with the title." "You are demanding." Hange sighed, in a melancholy breath. "I have to be. I can't accept just anyone as Duchess and you know that. Erwin was very lucky. One in a million. Who knows if I could be so lucky as to find in the most capable of women the one I would love." "Good. You're so serious about this that I can't not lend you a hand." "Please. I don't need your help which is too often useless and catastrophic. Not to mention shitty." "Trust me! The Queen has already chosen her diamond, the girl who shines above the rest. I happen to know her personally." "Don't say it like it's some revolutionary idea. There was nothing more predictable than being interested in the diamond of the season. A girl who is all too often chosen for her beauty rather than her skills. A factor I have no interest in." "You're depressing Ackerman." Hange complains, her upper body slumped over the paper-free part of the desk.

Levi clicks his tongue against his palate, now having to endure the sighs and complaints of this individual lounging on his wooden desk that is surely worth more than a small estate in the heart of the capital. He makes a mental note to himself to thoroughly clean the wooden surface to remove any germs that Hange might leave on his wonderful desk.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Lady [Name]. Miss [Name]. What a pleasure it is to welcome you to our land. I hope British soil suits your tastes." "It is an honour, Your Majesty. We thank you for your hospitality." "Isn't there someone missing? Don't you have two daughters?" Asks the Queen, one eyebrow arched. "My apologies, Your Majesty, my sister could not bear the journey on the ship. She was forced to stay in bed while her illness subsided." You say.

Along with your mother, you bow to Her Majesty the Queen of England. There is no doubt that this woman is of a completely different class to the ladies of the nobility. The Queen is the most noble. The one to whom all eyes naturally turn. You can't help but let your eyes take in the sumptuous details of the lace covering Her Majesty the Queen's dress. A puffed-up dress that breaks with the current trend for empire dresses. Why didn't she follow the current fashion? Wasn't it a silent obligation of society not to step out of line at the risk of being singled out for criticism and harsh words by other nobles? You have abandoned the clothes of your native country to blend in with current British fashion, but you feel a touch of admiration before Her Majesty the Queen. Perhaps you could persuade your mother to let you proudly wear the dresses of your homeland?

"Come, come, come! We have so much to talk about. We'll soon be one big, beautiful family." "I hope so too, Your Majesty." Your mother affirms, with a discreet, unruffled smile.

With that, you follow in the Queen's rapid and ample footsteps. How can she be so comfortable in clothes that seem so uncomfortable? It's probably a question of habit. A few steps behind her, you try to keep up with the rapid pace through the magnificent corridors decorated with gilding and sculptures that you know are worth more than anything the less fortunate could dream of. On the walls hang paintings depicting the royal couple's life together. When they are young, then soon joined by a multitude of toddlers until these children take on the appearance of young adults. A chronological frieze that tells the story of a hidden family history.

There's nothing like that in your family. There's just a register that takes into account the many members of your clan. Only the hard core share the ancestral domain, while the others are invited every year for a week to maintain a certain union between all the members of your clan. And you… you're the chief's goddaughter. Daughter of the chief's sister. After the chief's daughter, you are the most noble thing in your country. The purest. If your cousin is promised to the prince of your kingdom, you… Are you going to join the jewels of the British Empire? That is a perfectly acceptable future. But are you prepared to give up your family? Your country? The life you've built there? To leave to start a new life with a man whose company you're not sure you'd enjoy?

For a moment, this sumptuous palace looks like a cage. Your future cage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], what's your country like? I'm genuinely curious about the different regions." The princess's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "At the risk of committing an act of treason on your soil, I admit that our landscapes have nothing to envy to those of British soil. I would even go so far as to say that they are splendid. I think you'd like it very much."

The princess lets a soft laugh slip from her lips, which she hastens to hide behind her fan. You squint your eyes in delight. The princess doesn't seem to be offended by this little joke; she seems to be enjoying it. You take a sip of the tea you were served a few minutes ago.

Several days have passed since your arrival. You still haven't met the prince who may become your fiancé, but you won't regret not having met him yet. You dread this moment. If you do meet him, it will all become too real for you. These imaginary chains of commitment will be physically represented by a sumptuous ring on your left ring finger. The very thought makes your stomach boil with palpable discomfort. Fortunately, you've been lucky enough to meet a charming princess your own age. Historia Reiss. A soul so sweet and pure that you could swear you'd want to protect her just so she wouldn't encounter any unpleasantness in her life. You could almost find comfort in her presence should you end up marrying one of the princes.

"The first ball of the season will be held at Lord and Lady Yeager's house. Would you be comfortable? I don't know how different the culture of your country is from here." "Don't worry, your highness. I used to attend quite a few balls in my country, along with my cousins. We never missed an opportunity to socialise. We were an inseparable trio…" "You seem very close to your family." "I grew up with them. I can't conceive of a life without them in my life." "With so many brothers and sisters, I can only understand you. Sometimes they're unbearable but in the end, I wouldn't give them up for anything in the world."

The atmosphere becomes heavy with nostalgia. Memories of numerous family events come back to haunt you and add to the weight on your shoulders. The same dilemma seems to be facing the princess, who is also due to marry in the not too distant future. She too will have to leave her family, perhaps even her homeland, to marry a powerful nobleman from another nation in order to forge ties. Because that's what women are for: to produce heirs and to act as bargaining chips in the political game. Knowing and accepting are two different things. You know your destiny, but can you accept it? Are you even being asked to accept it? No. You are asked to suffer and endure.

The princess coughed in a feeble attempt to lighten the almost ceremonial mood.

"If you wish, I can teach you a few things for your first ball here. I don't doubt your social skills, far from it! But the culture here must still be foreign to you…" "Thank you, Your Highness, it is with pleasure that I accept your kind offer."

A smile curves your lips. The afternoon is spent talking about the little subtleties of the English court, which you find so lacking. Little protocols, little messages coded behind the tilt of your fan. The language of the fan is different from that of your country. She also teaches you the latest rumours so that you don't feel too out of place, even if you don't really know the protagonists portrayed in her rumours. It would seem, however, that this kingdom is particularly fond of such gossip. Time passed at an alarming rate and before you knew it it was time to part. The sun was about to set. You both had to get ready for the dinner that was about to begin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The evening of the first ball of the season has finally arrived. As expected, as soon as Duke Ackerman arrived, all the mothers with ambition presented themselves to him, their daughters in tow. He didn't hear any family names, all he heard was the roar of lionesses hungry for prestige or the pecking of hens. He almost cursed Erwin for abandoning him to indulge in his newlywed life. While he was genuinely happy for his friend, Levi couldn't help but curse him in this situation. A duke still single…a real dawn to behold. He excused himself briefly with a shake of his head, ignoring the sighs of disappointment, and extricated himself from the flock of ladies to join Hange, who was standing in the company of Erwin and his young wife.

He almost regretted having come to keep them company when he was forced to listen to Hange's mocking laughter, which seemed to find the Duke's distress satisfying in every way. If looks could kill, Hange would already be six feet under rotting and being eaten by worms. Too bad that's not possible.

"I can't wait to find someone nice so I can get away from all this excitement for good." Levi grumbled, his lips against the rim of his champagne glass. "You talk more than you act. If you keep running away, you won't know any of these girls and you'll end up another season on your own. A real vicious circle." Hange scoffs. "I'm not running away. I'm running away from this savage horde." Retorts the man concerned. "She's not wrong. You'll never find anyone at this rate." Erwin agrees, shaking his head. "Even Smith says so." Hange boasts. "Oh…I always thought you two would end up married. You're always together…" Lady Smith intervenes in a timid voice, unsure whether to say the words or not.

The other three turned to her. Erwin gently shook his head and calmly explained the situation. Hange couldn't help laughing as if she'd just heard the most hilarious joke, while Levi frowned, not holding back the visible disgust he felt at the very idea of having to share his life more than he already did with this individual. A friendly relationship could be tolerated, but more? Ah, God save him from this dark fate!

"My apologies! I always thought…" "Don't worry, my dear." Erwin said to soothe her. "It's common knowledge in the various circles of high society. Your relationship is a trending topic at every turn." Informs Lady Smith, a nervous smile on her lips. "Please don't say another word about it." Begs Levi, who swears a glass of champagne isn't strong enough to hear that kind of story about him. He needs stronger alcohol.

Fortunately for the Duke, the music ends, replaced immediately by the powerful melody of trumpets, a harbinger of the arrival of the one everyone is waiting for: Her Majesty the Queen of England. The big doors open, revealing the royal figure in her sublime gown of thick ivory with a few touches of blue. The guard at the door announced the Queen's arrival in a firm voice. Then other names were called: that of Princess Historia Reiss. Then the Countess [Name] and her daughter.

All bowed to Her Majesty the Queen, before rising to gaze at the two newcomers to the British court: mother and daughter [Name]. Two foreigners whose features stand out from the rest of the nobility. A refined exoticism that is sure to catch the eye of even the most self-righteous duke. Recognising beauty in the unknown is right up his street. But perhaps his gaze lingered a little too long on the young miss descending the stairs, as Hange tapped him on the side of the elbow. A single glance was enough for him to see the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Don't think about it, four eyes."

Hange shrugged, before pushing him forward, encouraging him to take a step towards the quartet who had finally set foot on the ballroom floor. Levi stumbled on his feet, managing to catch himself in time before hitting the floor. A movement that didn't seem to go unnoticed, on the contrary. He felt the weight of Her Majesty The Queen's gaze, which had just spotted him in the crowd. He refrains from swearing between his teeth, cursing the day Hange was born. With a perfect bow, he presented himself to Her Majesty, without bothering to smile. No one has ever seen him smile, he is thought to be incapable of it.

"Duke Ackerman, what a pleasure it is to honour us with your presence." The Queen begins. "The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty." "Have you already met our guests, Lady [Name] and Miss [Name]?" "I have not had that honour before today."

The Duke analysed the curve of the Queen's smile, then followed the discreet movement of her eyes towards the young miss in silent command. Levi wrinkled his nose briefly, so as not to break his legendary impassivity and reveal his displeasure at his situation. But perhaps he could have picked a worse partner than a young miss who had just arrived on English soil and who certainly didn't know the latest gossip. He walked around The Queen, his strides guiding him to a respectable distance from the foreign miss, his hand outstretched towards her. His steely eyes gazed into hers, taking in the minute details in her irises. The brilliance of the crystals on the ballroom chandelier was reflected in her eyes, as if a whole galaxy had taken refuge in her.

"Miss [Name], would you do me the honour of a dance?"

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

You smooth down the silk of your dress, which covers your body in a beautifully crafted adornment. You feel uncomfortable in this dress, not so much from the corset as from the layers of this empire dress. You weren't sure whether there was too much fabric or not enough. Your breasts, contoured by the corset, bulge out for all to see. Your eyes can't take your eyes off this display of flesh, which now seemed so unseemly just a few seconds before your entrance. A gentle pressure on your arm rouses you from your obvious discomfort. The princess stands beside you in a pleasant attempt to help you overcome the demons of anxiety. You offer her a gentle smile, thanking her for her kindness.

The double doors open to reveal the bright lights coming from the candles, especially the giant chandelier suspended above the couples of motionless dancers, facing you. All this attention is directed at you. Suddenly, all that nervousness evaporates like snow in the sun. The feeling of being the eye-catching jewel takes you back to the wonderful days when you and your two cousins dominated your country's high society. Your body remembers the small, graceful gestures and discreet, charming smiles of a noble lady. Why were you nervous again? You couldn't remember, but the delight of returning to balls and luxury made you feel like a fish in water.

Behind the Queen, you watch the Duke's silhouette approach you. A very handsome man, the orange glow of the candles emphasising the chiselled, severe features of his face. He doesn't stand out for his height, but the way his expensive suit clings to his muscles, the shadows discreetly emphasise the contours of his sculpted body. You hold your breath as he approaches you. Blimey, you've completely forgotten to follow the discussion that's just taken place. Has he caught you looking at him in the most shameful way possible? To your surprise, he invites you to join him in a dance. You slip your hand into his, a pleasant shiver caressing your spine as he traps your hand between his fingers, drawing you onto the dance floor. You feel his second hand slide down your side to rest on your hip, the perfect place to keep from being indecent. His warmth embraces you with a gentle sensation. It's so different to when you're being held by your cousin for a dance, it's different…because you're in the presence of a man and not a family member you grew up with. A breath slips from your lips as you feel his fingers tighten their grip on your hip. That simple touch electrifies your nerves. Your eyes gaze into his, searching for his soul for a brief moment. Perhaps it's simply because he's a man… the first man to hold you. Maybe it's because you can feel the firmness of his muscles under his suit.

The music begins, echoing throughout the room. You dance together, following the silent instructions of his body against yours. Around you other couples join in, but in all honesty you're not really paying attention.

"So…you're the most coveted bachelor of the season?" You ask to start a conversation with your dance partner. "I see you've been made aware of the latest rumours." The Duke resigns himself, his features hardened by the despair of his situation.

You can't help but let a laugh escape you at your dance partner's visible dissatisfaction. It would seem that this is a subject that puts him in an uncomfortable situation.

"The princess seemed well to inform me of the latest intriguing news at court so that I should not find myself out of place." "Do you intend to stay until the end of the season or will you be staying on British soil?" "It's a huge upheaval to change countries for good. But I'm beginning to discover the attractions of the British Empire." You reply, your gaze firmly anchored in his.

He opens his lips briefly, like a fish out of water. Then he turns in on himself, becoming once again the cold, stern duke, inflexible in his expressions if only for the tiny expressions that make him human and not a marble statue.

"The princess is a charming person who never fails to brighten my days. Her ladies-in-waiting, though I don't really know them, seem to me to be perfectly benevolent ladies."

The drawing music threatened to end the song. Soon you will have to part with this man whose surname and title you know only. A beauty like that won't struggle to find a wife before the season is over.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

No sooner do these words leave your lips than the music stops. The surprised expression on your dance partner's face reflects your own surprise. Tact has never been your strong point according to your twin sister, and today you have just confirmed what you have denied all your life. Are you really going to…propose getting to know another man? When you may end up betrothed to a prince if the discussions between your mother and the Queen come to an agreement.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Levi didn't know what to expect when he asked her to dance, or what the queen might be thinking. This damsel had not crossed oceans to come here with the intention of seeing some scenery. Everyone could sense that a royal wedding was approaching. The union between two great and powerful families that would make every nobleman in their homeland tremble. Yet he had to restrain his hand from slipping lower on her hip to feel the curves under her dress that must remain inaccessible to him forever. It wasn't love at first sight, he didn't believe in it and the very concept seemed delirious and implausible. Nevertheless, he recognised the principle of attraction. And the young woman in front of him was one of the few to arouse in him the first shivers of desire. But she was out of reach. She would soon be joining the crown jewels. He was not going to jeopardise this young woman's fine future plans, just as he was not going to ruin the excellent reputation he had built up by staying away from brothels and opera singers looking for stability and finance in the arms of rich men.

The conversation was very casual, nothing interesting, just banal politeness. Despite the tingling in his fingers when his ears were graced by her laughter. He hated the fact that this stupid rumour, although true, was brought to the attention of his dance partner. But unlike the many other suitors, she had no intention of putting a target on his back, as a better partner was presenting herself. She could be a breath of fresh air, if only for a moment. Was it wrong to enjoy this dance? To enjoy this company even for a few minutes? One dance before returning to their respective worlds. Or so he thought, until the words left her lips.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

Like a mirror, their surprise was reflected in each other's faces. Those words shouldn't have been spoken, not to a stranger and not to someone you know. Those words imply a lot of things, especially with a woman who was perhaps going to join the crown. He shouldn't accept, he couldn't accept. Perhaps his answer, his refusal, was visible in his eyes, for he needed no words to make her more embarrassed than she already was. Under his hands, he could feel the heat radiating from this body that wanted to bend over and disappear six feet under to save herself the embarrassment. He could feel the movement of her muscles, he could feel her holding back from rushing away and abandoning him on the dance floor, causing a scandal. She held back to avoid causing trouble for him as much as for herself. In the shame of rejection, she knew how to behave and curb her urges to save face. A quality… if it could be described that way.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I beg you to forget what just happened."

She bowed in a curtsy, signalling the end of their dance. He returned the courtesy. And before he knew it, he was with his friends, a glass in his hand to quench his thirst. His gaze lost in the sparkling bubbles of the alcoholic beverage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Why did fate seem so set against you? The ball was only a day old and yet you bumped into the man you swore you'd never see again for the sake of your pride. He also seemed taken aback, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from each other. You look away and concentrate on the young woman standing beside Lord Ackerman. She seems to be beaming with delight, ready to pounce on you for questioning or…examination. You feel the need to cover yourself with more than a dress and a thin shawl against the breeze.

"Oh, look at the sun; already so low in the sky. I'll be off, Ackerman! It's every gentleman's duty to keep such a charming damsel as the young miss company!"

Left in utter bewilderment, you bat your eyelashes at the spectacle, unsure of how to deal with the hasty departure of the brown-haired woman already far away from you both. Silently, you arch an eyebrow at Levi, as if to confirm that what has just happened really did happen.

"You…you're in the queen's gardens." "I am." Levi retorts.

Silence.

This is so uncomfortable, even for you. You decide to take your leave. A meticulously and swiftly executed curtsy, then you make your way back to the palace and hide under the covers of your bed to forget this second shame. You need to regain your composure. Shame doesn't kill, you've faced worse than this in your country! A man a little more handsome than the average is not going to make you forget your means. As you try to convince yourself mentally, you are slow to notice the footsteps at your back, until a hand wraps around your wrist. A gasp escapes your lips, and your body quickly turns towards the person who dares to touch you. You come face to face with the Duke. So close. Almost as close as when you were dancing. You blink, fighting against the honour you would lose if you were caught alone this close to a man, or the desire to feel that hand slide up your arm and lodge itself in the hollow of your neck.

"Your Grace…" You whisper. "I beg you to let me go. This is unseemly." You manage to stay firm on your feet, pushing deep into your mind that strange feeling that runs through you every time this man lays a finger on you. "I apologise. No matter how many times I called you, you didn't seem to be able to hear me."

With that, he releases your wrist, taking several steps away from you. A perfectly respectable distance. Your wrist still seemed to be burning from the Duke's touch. An exquisite warmth. Before you can sink any deeper into your thoughts, his voice brings you back to reality.

"I am also on my way to the palace. Allow me to accompany you."

Even now you're wondering what went through your head to accept the proposal of a man you can neither know nor approach for the sake of your mother's discussions. No… It was only a courtesy, there was no implication. It's ridiculous to worry so much about a man you only met a day ago. It's because he's so beautiful that you lose your nerve! It's only attraction, nothing more can come from this beauty. The journey continues in silence. Honestly, you don't know whether you prefer silence or a conversation filled with banality to fill the void. On reflection, however, the Duke seems to revel in the quiet, preferring words when absolutely necessary. In this respect, he reminds you of your twin sister, who thrives on silence and useful conversation. A smile lights up your face, shy and as light as the cherry blossoms that fall from their tree when the season ends.

"Was that Miss Zoe?" You ask, annoyed at more silence. "Your ability to learn all the latest society gossip both fascinates and frightens me. you'll make a fine lady of British society." Levi sighed, admitting defeat at your ability to inform yourself on such matters just days after arriving on the soil of the Kingdom of England. "You flatter me, Your Grace. But I am not. Your person intrigues every person in this company. Almost every rumour revolves around you." "I intrigue you too, it would seem." "Don't give yourself too much credit, Your Grace." You reply with a hint of mischief in your voice. Teasing your interlocutor. "You are the prologue to a great book called High Society in the British Empire." "Oh, but it's when you read the prologue that you decide to continue reading a book. Are you going to continue reading this book, miss?" He snarls, his steely eyes darting into yours in defiance. "I don't know. I haven't read the whole prologue to be able to decide." You reply with a satisfied smile.

Your smile widens as you hear the Duke chuckle. If you didn't listen carefully, it would be easy to miss his laughter. A soft warmth spreads through your chest, satisfied that for a moment you have been able to break the cold, unruffled expression. Once outside the glass doors leading to one of the palace's too many halls, your companion stops in his tracks. This is it. The time has come for you to part. There's no need to exchange any more words, just a glance at each other and you already know that you mustn't stay together any longer than that. So you do what your mind tells you rather than the tug of disappointment of interrupting a beautiful discussion. You go your separate ways until fate allows you to see each other again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The weeks went by. Invitations to the ball, invitations to tea, days spent with Princess Historia and sometimes, exceptionally, you have the honour of sharing a conversation with the Queen. You never got even a glimpse of the prince who might become part of your future. Nothing was official yet, but wasn't it the least you could do to come and see one of the women who was going to share his life? The Prince shone through his absence from the palace, but rumours spread quickly, even among a young miss who was still new to British society. You've heard the rumours: the Prince favours an opera singer. He flaunts her publicly with no regard for his honour. Historia was trying to protect you, but at the same time she refused to hide her brother's imperfections from you, especially if you were to marry him. This is how you discovered that he had fathered two little bastards whom he was trying to have recognised by his mother so that they could become princes with a right of succession.

Disgusting.

Was this the future fate that awaited you? Waiting for your twin sister? Sharing a life with a man who shows the world his mistress? Unable to do so discreetly like most other nobles.

That should be your main concern, yet you can't help thinking of the duke who shares a few conversations with you when you find yourselves at the same ball. You always shared a dance under your mother's watchful eye. She said nothing, did nothing to prevent you from getting involved with other men. Perhaps she thought, as you did, that it was just a friendly relationship that was developing? Perhaps you were the only one to convince yourself of this lie when you wanted to feel the Duke's hands on your hips. Were you alone in feeling that desire boiling in your chest? Yet here you were, once again, sharing a fleeting moment of happiness that was to end as soon as the ball was over. On the balcony of the manor house, surrounded by a few souls looking for refreshment, you were chatting with the Duke. Lost in your admiration of the thin smile that lit up the Duke's stern face, at this moment he looked divinely peaceful.

"Come now, Your Grace, these are not noble words to say in public, and not in front of a woman either." You murmur, stifling your mirth behind your fan. "Are you the best person to speak of noble words? I remember the last ball…" He replies, teasing you. "Your Grace, you promised never to speak of that again!" You react immediately, urging him with a wave of your hand to lower the volume of his voice in the hope that no one will hear him. "I didn't…I simply mentioned the last ball. Where have I sinned?" "You are impertinent." "Oh, Miss [Name], impertinence is a sin."

You roll your eyes as your lips make contact with your glass of champagne, taking light sips to avoid repeating the same mistakes you made at the previous ball. Even now you regret drinking a little too quickly with so little food in your stomach, the result wasn't bad enough to damage your reputation in the eyes of society but… The Duke witnessed a lot of…freedom on your part.

"Your Grace." A woman's voice breaks the comfortable silence that has just settled.

You both turn towards the woman who has come forward with three daughters on her arms. Ah… A mother has just spotted him, causing the other mothers to come to him with that simple word. You offer a compassionate smile mixed with a touch of mockery as you leave him in the hungry hands of the mothers and daughters. Swallowing the bitter taste of frustration at the very idea that a woman will have the honour of becoming Lady Ackerman. The wife of such a good and kind man… while you…

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you return to the quarters you have been given for the time of your stay here, your mother is standing on the sofa in the bedroom. She closes the book and puts it down again in a terribly slow gesture. You lick your lips, suddenly nervous about what she might be telling you. There was always that imperturbable smile on your mother's face, but you knew her better than anyone. The slight wrinkle of her nose could only mean one thing: she wasn't satisfied with something. Did the discussions between her and Her Majesty The Queen go badly? You can only imagine the worst.

You take your place at your mother's side, your hands gripping hers in an attempt to comfort her or yourself. You're not sure. The impatience was going to kill you, yet she continued to remain silent. She seemed almost about to give up on telling you.

"Mother, what's the matter?" "[Your name]…I must say I should be pleased, yet I can't seem to rejoice."

You swallow your saliva with difficulty. Your fingers tighten around your mother's hands. Her fingers caress the backs of your hands in a circular motion, a gentle massage to try and soothe your raw nerves. But it brings no comfort.

"They agree to the marriage…" It wasn't a question. You let the phrase leave your lips in a silent breath. "Yes. They accept the union between our two families." "I see…" You fail to express more than those two words. "They did not specify the name. If a man caught your eye…" "No, no one caught my eye, I would marry the prince." "Are you sure, my dear child?" "Quite sure." "You still have a few weeks to think about it."

Your mother places a kiss on your forehead, leaving you alone in your room to consider the implications further. It's no longer just about you and your selfish desires. It's about the future of your family.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], it is an honour to meet you." "The pleasure is mine, your royal highness."

Those words stick in your throat, barely holding back the bitterness of disgust as the prince's lips brush the back of your hand. Lips that have whispered words of love to another. That have kissed the lips of another. And unlike other men, he never hid the fact that he had a mistress. Why do women have to be pure and chaste until they get married, while men do unspeakable things to 'enjoy' their youth before they tie the noose around their own necks? Why does she have to put up with the shame of a future husband who is incapable of controlling himself? Why does she have to put up with the way the prince looks at her?

For the family.

For your family, you will smile politely at the Prince, get to know him and pretend not to be repulsed by his touch. You will turn a blind eye to his actions and accept that he defiles your body with his sinful touch. For the sake of your family. For the sake of your twin sister, you will endure and accept this marriage. You know that your sister is in no state to put up with such a situation for years to come. But are you?

That tea to get to know you was as dull and miserable as the Prince's personality. He didn't want this marriage either, and he showed it shamelessly by hinting at his relationship with this opera singer. You couldn't dislike this woman. She is looking to survive, a prince is an excellent match and a protection against the harshness of everyday life for the less fortunate. You hated the prince. He is the one who initiated this relationship and who brings shame on Her Majesty The Queen and the entire royal family.

But for the sake of your family, you will turn a blind eye to this deplorable moment. You will smile at your mother's questions about your compatibility with the Prince.

"You are as beautiful as they say. Had I known sooner, I want you to know that I would have hastened from my royal duties to come and meet you." "You flatter me your royal highness. But I would be sad if you had to hasten your duties as prince to come and keep me company." You reply in the kindest tone you can muster. "You are right, after all, we could well spend the rest of our lives together."

A shiver of horror runs down your spine. Spend your life with him… for eternity. An infinitely long time. A life away from your land and your family to start one with this individual who is supposed to embody the best that the kingdom of England has to offer. But here again, you force a smile onto your face and offer a shy laugh like a sweet young damsel too modest to imagine making a life with a prince.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

How many days since this woman had approached him? She had expressed a desire to get to know him, she had persisted in talking to him despite her situation, and little by little she had dug into the abrupt façade he had built for himself as duke. And here she was, categorically refusing to stand in front of him or give him the slightest glance as she held her prince's hand and let him slide his hand lower than he should during a dance. He had always known how this story would end: badly. Despite all the warnings and dangers that his conversations with her continued to entail, Levi had found himself enjoying her company. Those moments of laughter when she momentarily forgot all about propriety. Those moments when the stars twinkled in her pupils and always fascinated him. Those moments of peace when even the most unhelpful discussions became distractions for him, even though he hates talking in vain.

This woman had forced her way into his life, only to leave as quickly as she had entered. He was angry with her. He blamed himself for having let her do it when he knew full well that a foreigner would not cross the oceans without the intention of marrying a prince.

Yet the sight of her unhappy eyes, of her thin, peaceful smile that can't deceive him… Levi hates having to be a mere witness to her fatal fate. A splendid woman with a mind and heart of gold married to a pathetic excuse for a prince. He hates how his chest boils with dull anger at the sight of this extraordinary woman trapped in invisible chains pulled by adults to gain power. For the sake of these two great families, she will sacrifice herself and accept a miserable marriage. A condemnation to torture for eternity.

But what business is it of the Duke's? None at all. He shouldn't interfere. He should be content to continue his search for a future duchess. Oh… But had he even begun his search? He didn't have the slightest recollection of having really been looking for anyone during this entire social season. For a moment, the face of that terribly annoying woman appeared in his mind. It was her again. Always her. Always [First name] [Last name].

He needed air. Immediately.

The wind hits his face as he sinks into the depths of his hosts' garden. Luckily for him, he's a man, so he's able to walk freely without his honour being called into question. And even if it wasn't, at the moment, he couldn't give a damn about his honour. His rational mind is fighting with his heart, which has decided to awaken a conscience of its own.

It's always that woman's fault.

If only she hadn't come into his life, everything would have been resolved by now. He'd already have a fiancée. He would have settled into a comfortable life far removed from the problems of being a single duke.

A creak drew him out of his thoughts. Someone was in the garden with him. Who would go this far into the gloom if it wasn't another man who was also trying to get away from greedy mothers? No… It wasn't another man, his breath catching in his throat as he laid eyes on the female figure who was the target of his internal battle.

"Miss [Name], are you unconscious? You mustn't be here alone, you're in big trouble." He tries to whisper despite his desire to scold her for such inconsiderate conduct. She was lucky to run into him and no one else, but no other noble soul should see them at the risk of causing a huge scandal.

Yet the harsh, reproving words he was about to say to her disappeared like snow in the sun. His eyes went wide as he witnessed the wet marks on the reddened cheeks of the young woman, who nevertheless had only a smile on her lips, true or false. She is crying. Alone. In the half-light of a garden. Breathing hieratically as if she has just escaped from something… or someone.

"Your Grace. Le…Levi."

A shiver caressed his body as his first name slipped from the miss’s moist lips. A name barely louder than a whisper, yet he could still hear it echoing in his mind. The sensation far surpassed his wildest thoughts. He didn't react until it was too late, when she let herself run straight into his arms. Buried against the hollow of his collarbone, she sobbed her pain, hoping for comfort. He could only guess. What was he supposed to do? Should he embrace her and risk being seen to sully the impeccable reputation of a future princess? Should he push her away and force her to go discreetly to a safer place where she would no longer fear anything? His hands clenched into a fist, he forced himself to stand still. He chose neither of the two options open to him. He couldn't go any further, just as he didn't have the strength to push her away.

"Miss [Name]. You shouldn't do that. It's dangerous." "I don't care!" "…You will soon be joining the crown jewels. I believe that soon your engagement will be announced. You must not risk ruining your future." "I have no future with such a man! You know that…you must have heard the rumours."

Who hasn't? Everyone had heard them. The prince had done everything he could to make sure the whole kingdom knew about his mistress and the two bastards he had fathered with her. He knew deep down that she would not have a bright future. But he also knew that this current situation, even if it didn't affect her, would inevitably lead her to a much more shameful and painful end than marrying an adulterous prince. At least she would have the luxury and comfort of a peaceful and secure life.

"Stand aside." He orders as firmly as he can. "Then do it." She provokes him. He knows she is trying to make a point. He orders her to step aside to perform a task he cannot. A frown bars the Duke's inexpressive face. "Miss…"

Only a whisper leaves the Duke's lips as he tilts his head to watch the miss against him embrace him as if her life depended on it. He can feel her breasts dancing against his, the layers of clothing separating them doing nothing to soften the sweet sensation of her breasts against his torso. His gaze wanders over the curve of her breasts, bulging from the corset. Enticing. Inviting. Terribly…irresistible.

"I have no future without you, Levi."

His name again. Again her bloody words to seduce him. To make him stray from the straight and narrow path he'd set for himself. He shouldn't destroy his whole life for one woman. He shouldn't…

Yet he surrendered to a kiss. He revels in the surprised moan of the woman who holds his heart in the palm of her hands. He savours with appetite and delight the faint contractions of her muscles against him, an honest and sincere body enjoying the heated kiss. He's going to engulf her. He feels he is capable of ravishing her essence and soul with this kiss, because he wants everything she has to offer. He wants to be able to caress the radiance she embodies with his fingertips.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

His lips glide down your neck, covering every inch of accessible skin with light, velvety kisses. These simple little touches electrify your raw nerves. Your hands grasp his shoulders, in the faint hope of supporting you as your legs buckle under your own weight. You feel his kisses linger on your sweet spot, a moan slips from your lips but you can't hold it in. The petticoats of your dress lift as the Duke's hands roam over your bare thighs to find your crotch clad in fabric so thin he can feel the moisture seeping through. You collapse under the weight of the new sensations of ecstasy. Pleasure seeps into every pore of your body.

"L-Levi."

His name has become an unholy prayer. A sacred mantra that keeps your mind from slipping into the depths of this new ecstasy. His fingers encircle this sensitive little bud, caressing you through the fabric, actively working to introduce you to a new world. His lips cover yours in an instant, silencing your unholy moans from echoing too loudly in the darkness of the garden.

"[First name]…you are the bane of my existence. You are my dearest sin."

Never mind if you get caught…right now, only the two of you matter.

ೃ⁀➷ welcome to levisolace ! ♡

↠ about azri - she/they, 23, poc (asian), and afab - bisexual ↠ about my writing - this blog is dedicated to my writing, mostly will be aot or levi x reader works. other fandoms include: jjk, alice in borderland (tv), love and deepspace (game) - all my works are 18+ only. minors, do not interact. - i will not write about non-con, incest, and the likes that are heavily triggering but please still be mindful of the tags i will put. but i will probably mostly write angst. - i'm a busy person. i work full-time and is still in uni so pls don't demand updates ! it's ok to ask about it but pls be nice ! :(

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© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

i’m crying i did not expect that

“Are you okay?” Levi asks you.

“No.”

“I know, you don’t look it. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, Levi. I’m exhausted…I wonder what it’s like to have a brain that functions the way it’s supposed to.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly. “Your brain is fine.”

“But that’s the thing, it’s not!” You say exasperatingly. “It’s wired differently and so it makes everything more difficult. I switch between three modes: Not wanting to exist, Surviving, and Beyond Surviving. Guess how much time I spend in each mode?”

Levi doesn’t say anything in response. His expression shows more concern than confusion this time.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Most of my time is spent surviving. Some of my time is spent not wanting to exist. And just a little of my time is spent beyond suriving…what kind of life is that?”

Levi’s eyes look at you with sadness. “Not much of one, to be honest…but it’s yours and you only have one.” He counters.

“Well, I don’t even know if I want it half of the time. Y’know, someone told me that life is basically climbing mountains. You climb a mountain, which represents a challenge or obstacle, once you get to the top you enjoy the view for a moment…then you climb back down and do the same thing all over again. Rinse and repeat.”

Levi seems to identify with what you’re saying and he knows you’re frustrated right now but he needs to keep you from spiraling. He’s not letting you give up. That’s not the way. “It’s what we have to do, Y/N.” He says gently.

“And what if I don’t want to do anything? What if I don’t want to climb fucking mountains? What if I don’t want to constantly be challenged and given obstacles? What if I just want to sit at the top of the mountain and just be?”

Levi knows these feelings all too well…he’s wrestled with them a few times throughout his life but he’s continued to push through because that’s what you just do. And you’re going to do the same even if he has to do the pushing for you. You snap Levi out of his thoughts with your next statement.

“It would be so much easier if I just…”

“Stop.”

“But-“

“Stop.” He repeats sternly, his steel eyes boring into yours.

You grunt angrily. “You’re not even real, Levi!” You yell out at him. You’re not angry with him. You’re angry at the world, angry for the universe and your parents for putting you in this predicament, angry for placing you into a world that doesn’t accommodate you. “You are a 2-dimensional character I use to cope. There’s no way for you to actually soothe or help me. You. Are. Fictional.”

Your words don’t seem to phase him. He shrugs. I’m real enough.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m real enough to you. Y/N. You are the one who brings me to life. You are the one who decides how real I should be. What does it matter if I’m not a real person?”

“It’s silly.”

“Who says it’s silly?”

“I don’t know, a bunch of people.”

“Well, fuck all of those people then. Just fuck them.” He states as if it’s obvious.

You sigh. “It doesn’t work that way, Levi…”

“So make it work that way. No one else is keeping you alive but yourself.”

“And you…” You say softly.

Levi shakes his head. “I don’t do anything. Like I said before, you’re the one who does the all the heavy lifting. I exist because you want me to. I function the way I do because you want me to.”

“So I control you?”

Levi rolls his eyes at that. “Don’t be a brat. What I’m saying is I’m just an outlet for you.”

You pause, thinking of his words. He’s not wrong. He’s just a character but he’s also not just a character because of you. “I wish you were real.” You admit sadly.

“I wish I were real too…for you.” He sighs as he runs a hand through his raven hair. “But it doesn’t matter if I’m real or not. I still occupy your brain. I still make you happy, that’s all that matters. As long as you let me live in your mind, I’m always going to be here for you.

You nod, not saying anything further.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

Levi vs The SUN