Summary:

This chapter serves as an introduction, establishing the dynamic between Levi and Mikasa that will be further developed as the story progresses.

Disclaimer:
→ The story takes place post-war, 5 years after The Rumbling.
→ RM age gap here is 10 years, Mikasa 25 and Levi 35.
→ Some characters are dead, and some came back to life, cause why not.
→ Mikasa enlisted in the Survey Corps at the age of 18.
→ There is no time skip. All the events, including The Rumbling happened in a span of 2 years.
→ Make sure to read the notes for more information/clarification.

I'm going with the flow with this one, each chapter will be a surprise even for me. Comments, questions, or anything that can help or motivate me are really appreciated. Love you all!


Mikasa adjusted the thin straps of her entrancing black dress, a little too tight for her liking. The fabric, sumptuous and refined, felt unfamiliar against her silky skin; not something she was accustomed to wearing. It molded her curves flawlessly, leaving her slightly uneasy and short of breath. Adding a touch of sophistication to her overall look, she clasped a dainty pearl necklace around her neck. Her long, dark hair cascaded in glossy strands down her back like a graceful waterfall. Taking one final glance at her reflection in the mirror, she admired how her subtle makeup accentuated her innate beauty.

Mikasa found herself in a tough spot after receiving an invitation to a former comrade's wedding. Initially planning to decline politely and come up with an excuse, Mikasa eventually gave in to the pressure of her friends, particularly Liah, who were relentless in their efforts to persuade her to attend. The mere thought of wearing a forced smile and pretending to enjoy the celebration seemed like a dreadful nightmare in the making. Mikasa was well aware of her inability to feign happiness for others. However, out of loyalty and to appease her persistent friends, she decided to suck it up, put on a brave face, and endure the event.

Weddings and their idyllic appeal, where heartfelt promises of eternal love are whispered in each other's ears... To Mikasa, weddings represented a distant and almost unattainable world from which she felt disconnected. Naturally, the prospect of attending one only exacerbated that feeling of having to pretend to be someone she wasn't.

Upon her arrival, she was promptly embraced by an atmosphere of luxury, with floral displays gracing every nook and a sense of love lingering in the air. The room resonated with joy, and the melodic symphony of violins and pianos filled the space with enchantment, welcoming her as she ventured deeper into the extravagant setting. The faces of strangers, illuminated by smiles, were engrossed in lively discussions—some clutching glasses of champagne, while others agilely swaying and twirling in the ballroom.

Her serious expression starkly contrasted with the vibrant energy surrounding her. She felt conspicuously out of place, evident in the slight shifts of her weight from one foot to the other. The regrettable choice of high heels now seemed like a painful mistake, each step causing discomfort and making her stand out even more in the crowd. To make matters worse, Mikasa felt acutely self-conscious in her snug attire. The form-fitting dress Liah had insisted she wear clung to her every curve, drawing unwanted attention and leaving her exposed and vulnerable. And to think, it was all Liah's doing. Where was she, anyway?

Mikasa stood alone on the outskirts of the crowd, observing the newlyweds as they moved to the rhythm of the music, their eyes brimming with love and adoration, their smiles outshining the glittering lights of the venue. She reflected on the remarkable journey the couple had shared.

In a world where being a soldier once meant facing death amidst chaos and fear, they not only survived but also triumphed, overcoming every obstacle that came their way. Now, here they were, jubilantly and wholeheartedly celebrating the beginning of a new life together as a married couple. Mikasa couldn't help but genuinely share in their happiness. Their love and resilience were powerful reminders of the beauty and strength that could emerge from the darkest and most challenging circumstances. Yet, Mikasa couldn't suppress the bittersweet longing in her heart, wishing she and Eren could have experienced the same happiness. But alas, life..

A voice broke through Mikasa's thoughts, yanking her back to reality. It was Liah, her ever-enthusiastic friend, on a mission to find her, "There you are, hiding in the shadows as usual," Liah exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face, "Come over here!"

"I'm good here, Liah. Really," Mikasa replied, hoping to avoid any further fuss.

Liah was having none of it. "Sweetie, this is a wedding, we stick together! Oh my, look at you! The dress, the hair! And can we talk about how amazing you look? That dress, that hair! If I were a guy, I'd marry you on the spot, just so you know," she gushed.

Mikasa knew it was pointless to argue with Liah. She begrudgingly followed her friend's lead but as they weaved among the guests, Mikasa couldn't hold back her frustration, "I'm not the one getting married, so why do you insist on making me the center of attention?" she pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Liah simply laughed it off as she headed to the open bar to fetch drinks, "Honey, just roll with it. You'll thank me later."

She handed Mikasa a glass of red wine urging her to loosen up, while a small crowd of friends quickly gathered around them.

"Look who's here!" Liah announced to the crowd. "The one and only Mikasa, in all her glory!"

Mikasa wished she could vanish into thin air as compliments poured in. Fortunately, the music transitioned to a slower tempo, prompting guests to pair up for dancing and momentarily relieving the spotlight from her. With little choice, Mikasa joined the group already swaying on the ballroom floor, silently resigning herself to the fact that she had to make the best of the evening despite its disastrous start.

However, a heavy cloud of melancholy descended upon her. She wrestled with her mind, trying to shift her focus away from the absence of Eren and Armin. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, immersing herself in an alternate reality where Eren charmed the crowd with his confident, albeit clumsy, dance moves, and Armin, while absorbed in a conversation would steal glances her way with his angelic smile. The ache of their absence was terribly profound and cruel, yet Mikasa pushed it aside, reminding herself that this was a night for celebration, not for dwelling on what couldn't be changed.

Unaccompanied and drifting through the crowd, Mikasa's intimidating presence and less-than-favorable reputation often dissuaded others from interacting with her, well aware that it was rooted in a past that had tarnished her image. Yet, she remained unfazed by their avoidance, and reached for another drink, finding contentment in her own company and the simple pleasure of a glass of red wine.

Mikasa kept a watchful eye on Liah, whose free-spirited nature was further fueled by her indulgence in more than her fair share of alcohol. Despite occasionally testing her patience, Liah was a friend who had helped her through challenging times from which Mikasa was still recovering. She was more than just a friend; she was a genuine blessing, a ray of hope in her darkest hours. Raising her third glass of wine, Mikasa offered a silent toast to all her friends, treasuring the camaraderie above all else, feeling deeply and eternally indebted to them.

An unexpected tap on her shoulder jolted her, her reflexes momentarily tightening in surprise at the unexpected contact. Swiveling around, she met familiar eyes—Jean's.

"Care to join me for a dance?"

Mikasa rapidly regained her composure and nodded in assent with a smile, "Of course, Jean."

He guided her in a slow dance, their steps falling into perfect harmony, Mikasa felt a sense of ease wash over her. Nestling against Jean's shoulder, she surrendered to his confident and skilled lead. The scent of his intoxicating yet pleasant fragrance, infused with hints of sweet amber and musk, acted as a soothing balm to her mind, calming her frazzled nerves. A faint tint of rosiness began to color her cheeks, a telltale sign of the three glasses of wine she had enjoyed.

Mikasa was struck by a sudden realization—an intense longing for the reassurance and touch of a male figure, not out of necessity, but for what it symbolized: safety and protection. This longing, usually buried beneath her fiercely independent nature, now surged to the forefront of her consciousness.

Jean, a cherished friend whose timing was always impeccable, much like Liah, whether through his choice of words or his mere presence, was an irreplaceable pillar of support in her life, and another blessing for which Mikasa felt immensely grateful.

Known for his mischievous nature, he grinned slyly, hinting at his cunning intentions—a warning sign Mikasa overlooked. With swift and deliberate movements, he initiated a playful maneuver. Pivoting on his heel, he executed a sudden dip, causing Mikasa's body to perilously lean backward, as if on the precipice of an abyss. The arm supporting her back was suddenly withdrawn, leaving her feeble grip on his hand as her only anchor, her fingers trembling as they desperately clung to his, barely holding on. With each passing second, the strength of her grip weakened, her knuckles turning white with the effort to maintain her hold however her fingers continued to slip, inching closer to the inevitable release.

Finally, her grip gave way, her fingers sliding through his hand, bracing for the impending impact, her eyes widened in panic and confusion while Jean had a smile plastered on his face. Everything happened in a matter of seconds but stretched out in slow motion.

Jean's arm swooped back around her waist as soon as he sensed she would let go, intercepting her descent and pulling her back towards him. As he effortlessly brought her back to an upright position, the adrenaline overwhelmed Mikasa, and her lips parted in a spontaneous laugh. It was a laugh that broke free from the core of her being. Pure and unrestrained, providing another rare and heartwarming facet of her personality.

Jean, proud and pleased, savoring the success of his impromptu trick, "Got you!"

However, the fleeting amusement in Mikasa's eyes quickly turned into a friendly warning, a glint of seriousness emerged as she narrowed her gaze, "One more stunt like this, and this might be your last dance."

Despite her reserved nature, Mikasa secretly lived for these playful moments. She couldn't deny that she was enjoying the dance more than she could have imagined, completely oblivious to his presence.

Levi Ackerman was lounging comfortably against a counter in the shadows, far from the crowd, yet with a perfect view of the main floor. The dim lighting highlighted his features almost artistically, accentuating the chiseled contours of his face—the pronounced cheekbones and the sharp, defined jawline, while his distinctive eyes glowed with intensity.

Clad in a sleek, impeccably tailored suit, he embodied refinement and class from head to toe. The deep charcoal hue of his attire matched harmoniously with his calm demeanor. The fabric draped effortlessly over his well-toned physique, emphasizing his masculine silhouette. Beneath the impeccably fitted jacket, a crisp white shirt revealed his meticulous attention to detail, while the casually undone collar added a touch of charming nonchalance.

His raven-black hair, styled in his signature undercut framed his face seductively, unruly strands falling on his forehead, adding a rugged allure. Even in relaxed surroundings where he didn't have to display his bravery or unmatched abilities and seek the spotlight, his aura remained unmistakable, captivating those around him. Every gesture, no matter how mundane—whether it was holding a glass or a subtle shift in posture—carried a certain gravitas that demanded attention.

But what truly distinguished him was his unparalleled natural confidence, mysterious attractiveness, and refined simplicity—qualities that made it difficult for others to imagine he came from the Underground.

He was bent on ensuring she noticed him and notice him she did. Her eyes glanced up and down Levi, taking his appearance in. A sneer crept onto his lips, inviting her into a silent stare-down where her tenacity would be tested.

Feeling nothing but repulsion, Mikasa turned to Jean, her voice devoid of emotion. "He is here," she stated plainly.

Understanding exactly whom she meant, Jean responded, "Ignore his ass."

Despite his ominous presence, she was determined not to let him ruin her night. With a graceful motion, she swept her hair back with one hand, inadvertently revealing a peek of her cleavage and the smooth contours of her neck and shoulders. That subtle movement had a magnetic effect, capturing the attention of everyone within her sight.

Her innate elegance, effortless poise, and undeniable charisma emanated like a language of their own, crafting eloquent verses that demanded attentive listening to be fully grasped and appreciated.

She was breathtaking. That was the only thought he could cling to. Her beauty was overwhelmingly intoxicating that it made him ache with forbidden desires. It was widely known that she was among the most beautiful women, but to him, she was unparalleled. Throughout his life, he had encountered numerous women, but none possessed a beauty as unique as hers. She transcended the boundaries of possibility, boldly asserting her ethereal beauty as an undeniable truth. In her presence, everything else faded into oblivion, including himself, leaving only his heart floating weightlessly, suspended in awe.

Her stunning black dress hugged her curves in all the right places, places that would drive any man wild. It beautifully emphasized her slender waist, gently curved hips, and exquisitely revealed her shoulders. The rosy hue from the wine had settled upon her cheeks, adding a flush of color to her skin and making her appear like a newly bloomed flower gracing the earth for the first time. If someone had told him that Mikasa Ackerman would be enchanting everyone with her beauty at a wedding, he would have dismissed it as absurd, almost laughable. Yet here she was, swaying in the arms of another man, mesmerizing everyone around her.

She scanned the venue until her eyes locked onto his. Her eyes glimmered with defiance and scorn, a fierce flame fueled by the deep-seated hatred she harbored for him. A flame that had simmered for half a decade, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash its fury, ignited and sustained by his actions and the pain he continued to inflict upon her.

In an instant, he snapped back to reality. This woman was also the same woman he loathed the most.

"Quite the spectacle for someone who typically presents herself as a miserable grieving widow," he muttered to himself with contempt.

Mikasa could no longer ignore Levi's persistent stare from across the venue. This time, she refused to exhibit weakness. She shot him a piercing glare, hoping to ward off his unwelcome attention, but it seemed to have little effect. Nervousness crept in as she wondered why he consistently had to cast a shadow over even the most joyous occasions. The memories of the war and his decisions that brought them to this point haunted her thoughts, replaying like an endless loop with no way out.

Mikasa was desperate for a break. She'd been drinking all night, a bit too much, and craved a cigarette to numb the pain of burdensome memories. Slipping into the chilly night, Mikasa sought refuge in a secluded corner where she could be alone. Thankfully, no one was around. She quickly lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, savoring the temporary distraction it provided. There was a peculiar unspoken tension in the air, distinct from their usual tumultuous encounters as if some unseen force compelled them to acknowledge and address it.

The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly disrupted the quietness. Mikasa turned to face Levi, his silhouette emerging from the shadows, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a partially smoked cigarette in the other. Feeling weary and light-headed, she had no desire for confrontation. Instead, she chose to ignore him, focusing on smoking as a way to create an invisible barrier between them. The acrid taste of smoke filled her senses, momentarily distracting her from his bothersome presence.

"Can't keep up that glamorous facade anymore? Finally revealing your true self?" He jeered with a bitter irony.

And there he was. Her nemesis had appeared, stirring up all her inner demons on this particular evening. He couldn't have picked a more fitting night.

"Go to hell," she retorted sharply, hoping her response would be enough to send him away.

Levi stayed composed as he spoke, "Five years have come and gone and you're still living in a world of made-up lies instead of facing the truth. You might fool others, but not me, no matter how hard you try," he remarked, exhaling wisps of blue smoke.

"You don't understand, do you?" she responded, her patience wearing thin.

"I don't understand? Then enlighten me. What's so thrilling about wallowing in misery?" he asked, fully aware of his deliberate provocations.

Resisting the urge to engage, Mikasa flicked away the remains of her unfinished cigarette, abruptly ending what she had hoped would be a peaceful moment.

"Get lost," she spat out, aiming to put an end to the verbal sparring. As much as she wanted to retaliate, tonight was neither the appropriate time nor place. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene at a wedding celebration.

He pressed on, visibly amused by the situation, delighting in poking at her sensitive buttons as he always did, "It's fascinating how you cling to that damn raggedy scarf, still clutching onto the past as if it might bring him back one day."

"You have no idea what it means to lose everything," her words dripping with bitterness as she confronted him, "What could a heartless bastard like you possibly understand about losing loved ones, about losing family? "You've never experienced love, much less been embraced by it. You've never had a family to welcome you with open arms, nor someone to shelter you when your world crumbled," she paused, taking a breath to steady herself before continuing, "Tell me, what understanding do you have of the profound nature of human connections and relationships, huh? Even your own comrades... you either led them to a certain death or mercilessly slaughtered them when they stood in your way."

"Oh, shut up," he muttered under his breath before taking another sip from his glass.

Mikasa refused to back down, realizing it had been nearly five years since she had spoken to him so candidly. Normally, he would torment her with his words, and she would silently endure, retreating into herself, "No, I need to know!" she insisted, "What do you truly know about grief, about the importance of love and family? Yes, years have passed, but don't you dare assume I've forgotten. I begged you that day!"

"How many times must we go over this? He had to die," he replied wearily, sounding like he had repeated himself countless times before.

"He wasn't just anybody to me! He was my family! The only family I had!" she retaliated, her frustration now out in the open.

Levi remained unfazed in the face of her outburst, although surprised by her uncharacteristic reaction. It was a first. "Do I look like I care? I'm not the villain you make me out to be in that fabricated story you pass off as truth. You've got the wrong guy."

"Damn it. Even after all this time, you're still in denial. Trying to reason with him was pointless. The Rumbling was inevitable, as was his death. No one, not even you, could have changed that."

His blatant lack of empathy was as conspicuous as ever, just as she had expected.

In a barely audible whisper, the words slipped from her lips. "No. There was still a chance to save Eren. All I needed to do was talk to him."

Levi shook his head, in disbelief, "You're completely detached from reality. I almost feel sorry for you."

"I begged you to let me give it one last shot. Or at the very least, a chance to say goodbye. Never happened. I knew you were ruthless, but I never imagined it would extend to me."

The memory of her piercing cries and agonizing inhuman screams still haunts her thoughts and invades her nightmares to this day.

"You saved the world, but in the process, you ended mine. So why do you persist in torturing me like this?"

Good question. The death of Eren crushed her hopes, dreams, and sense of purpose, leaving her emotionally devastated. Why does Levi continue to inflict more pain upon her with his presence and actions, knowing the immense suffering she is already enduring?

A heavy silence settled between them. Levi showed indifference without uttering a word, diffusing the tension by clicking his tongue aloofly. He gulped down the last few sips of his whiskey, savoring the burning sensation in his throat. Was it his fourth or fifth glass? He couldn't recall, and frankly, he didn't care.

The clicking of his tongue ignited a staggering rage within Mikasa, momentarily robbing her of speech.

Enough was enough.

Without a warning, she impulsively bridged the gap between them, standing alarmingly close. Her focus shifted to his lips, memories rushing back to the days when she had longed to know what they tasted like. Those eyes of his, once a doorway through which she glimpsed the potential of a different life for herself, led her to spend nights lost in daydreams of what could be. What a relief that those fleeting thoughts never amounted to anything serious. They were ephemeral, born out of moments of uncertainty, loneliness, and perhaps monotony—moments where she toyed with the idea of being with someone other than Eren.

The only sounds were the faint whispers of the breeze, tenderly stroking Mikasa's hair, and their controlled breathing. The atmosphere crackled with silent anticipation, as if everything around them was on edge, waiting for the situation to erupt into a physical confrontation at any moment.

"What do you want from me?" Mikasa whispered, appalled to find herself in such proximity to him. How did she end up in this situation? The alcohol in her bloodstream surely had a hand in it. She could discern every detail on his face—sharp yet delicate, rugged yet refined.

Levi was treading dangerous territory, fully conscious of the risks involved. His lips hovered perilously close to hers, an irresistible yet forbidden temptation. Acting on impulse, he reached out to pull her closer by the arm, an unnecessary move driven purely by desire. Their foreheads met with a resounding thud, sealing their proximity in a way that felt inevitable. The mingling of the spirits they had consumed created an intimate and invigorating atmosphere with every exhale.

It was just the two of them, the rest of the world fading into insignificance. Skillfully averting their lips from almost brushing against each other, Levi spoke confidently with a half-smile, "I know what you need, you're just scared to admit it," he paused, expecting a response from her that, unfortunately, never came.

He understood the importance of restraint, especially considering the risk of crossing the line into physical contact—a boundary he had always maintained with her and particularly with her, the woman who had attempted to kill him five years ago. Another frustrating factor was his heart racing at an alarming pace, wishing he could wrench it from his chest to halt its frantic beating.

Screw it.

Paying no mind to the fact that their foreheads eliminated any gap between them and the tips of their noses were millimeters apart, he asked, "Have you ever thought about what your life would be like without me?"

"Peace. A life free from constant chaos."

Levi set out to challenge her perspective, "Are you sure? Peace could be more unsettling than chaos."

And Mikasa had her response ready, "I'd choose peace over the never-ending storm you bring with you whenever I cross your damn path, whenever I think of the past, whenever I think of the future you took away from me."

"What if I were to tell you that storm was the only thing keeping you alive? Would you believe me?" Levi noticed her puzzled expression and seized the moment to carefully push her against the wall behind, pinning her hands above her head, firmly holding her in place.

"Let go of me," she calmly requested, showing no sign of struggle.

A mixture of sorrow, regret, and sad beauty painted their faces as they locked eyes for what felt like an eternity.

"In different circumstances..," he began.

"I wish I had never met you," she cut in before he could finish.

Levi disregarded her comment, surrendering to an overwhelming and insatiable desire, an almost primal need for her that consumed him entirely, overriding all logic. His lips, ignited with a fervor he could no longer suppress blazed a trail down the delicate curve of her neck—a well-known route he had memorized, yearned to explore, and fantasized about endlessly. There, he planted a soft and tender kiss, feeling exhilarated and craving more from the subtle throb of her pulse beneath his touch. Despite Mikasa's motionless state, Levi sensed a silent communication between them. It felt as if she were guiding him to that precise spot, an invitation conveyed through the slight tilt of her head, granting him unrestricted access to intimacy.

The sensation of his lips meeting her bare skin sent shivers down her spine, causing her heart to race uncontrollably. She felt paralyzed, unable to move as his mouth curved into a knowing smile.

"In different circumstances," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, "You could have had that elusive happy ending you've been chasing in vain, right by my side."

Levi stepped back to gauge her reaction, noticing the shock written across her face as her eyes avoided his. He slowly released her from his grip, giving her space to process his words. He took another step back before speaking, "I can reignite the spark within you, make you feel alive again, make you forget about him. But, it's too late now, you missed your chance the minute you decided to make me your enemy."

Levi said nothing more, his expression a satisfied smirk as he turned and walked away. His silhouette faded into the darkness, disappearing into the night as he made his way back to the venue.

Mikasa stood frozen, trying to collect herself amidst the profuse shock. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she tried to make sense of the deluge of emotions crashing over her, crashing against the fragile walls she had painstakingly built around her heart. Emotions, both foreign and achingly familiar, stirred something long dormant. Emotions, a vital part of her humanity she had long denied herself, convinced she was better off without them—the very emotions she now realized she missed, craved, needed, and deserved to feel.

Emotions brought back to the surface by the man she loathed the most.

No fair.

"I can reignite the spark within you, make you feel alive again."