They discussed nothing as Lif and Yelena sat across from one another, enjoying a hearty meal of stewed meat with veggies, along with a side of bread rolls. Not that Lif minded the silence at first; she didn't have much to say to Yelena anyhow.
In stark contrast to Lif, Yelena maintained an air of nonchalance throughout their meal, refraining from any hint of side-eye or judgmental glances. Their shared silence, however, grew palpably uncomfortable for Lif as the seconds ticked by. As they neared the end of their meal, Lif couldn't bear the quiet any longer.
"So, Yelena," Lif finally spoke up, "what are your genuine thoughts about my presence here?"
Yelena delicately laid her spoon aside, lifting her gaze to meet Líf's for the first time since they'd settled in for dinner. Though a peculiar smile graced her lips, its warmth failed to penetrate the depth of her eyes.
"If Zeke desires your presence, then so do I," she affirmed softly.
"Bullshit."
"It's true," Yelena confirmed, standing from her seat and gracefully pacing around the small dinner table until she reached the space behind Líf's chair. Líf's gaze flickered towards the clean knife on her left, her fingers betraying a subtle twitch of temptation.
"Whatever Zeke desires, I will ardently pursue without reservation," Yelena declared with conviction.
In response, Líf clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Yelena's compliance now seemed incongruent with her earlier demeanor in the carriage when Zeke had proclaimed her supposed freedom.
Yelena's hand delicately found its way to Lif's chin, cradling it with tenderness as she guided Lif's gaze towards her. Meanwhile, her other arm draped across Lif's shoulder. "For now, as long as his eyes remain fixed on you, mine shall faithfully follow suit. And whatever pact he aims to seal, count on me to follow."
Yelena leaned in towards Lif, prompting a tense reaction as Lif swiftly swatted Yelena's hand away from her face, halting whatever intentions Yelena harbored.
Was she about to kiss her?
Undoubtedly. Yelena's imminent kiss left no room for uncertainty.
Yelena retreated a pace from Lif, her hands falling to her sides as she regarded Lif with her trademark coy smile. Lif returned only a glare. "Just to clarify, I'm not romantically interested in women."
Yelena's head tilted to the side. "Nor am I."
Once more, Lif's glare persisted until understanding dawned on her. Yelena's intentions were clear—romance with her wasn't what was on the table. Her heart belonged to Zeke, and she would immerse herself in his passions without reservation. Yelena's actions weren't a ploy; they were a testament to the depth of her devotion, devoid of any ulterior motives.
Yelena's dedication to Zeke knew no bounds; she would traverse any obstacle, even forging connections with adversaries, to stand faithfully by his side.
She acknowledged Yelena's stance with a measure of respect. Nonetheless, her feelings toward her remained unchanged.
"I seem to have lost my appetite," Lif murmured, rising from her seat as fatigue encroached upon her. "I'll retire until we're ready to depart again."
With no farewell extended to Yelena, Lif pivoted away from her and strode towards her quarters. She had reached her tolerance threshold with that woman for the day.
Zeke didn't return when the first light kissed the sky, and as he had requested, they departed without him. Once more, Yelena journeyed with Lif in the carriage. Despite Yelena's attempts to engage her in conversation, Lif only responded with terse, one-word replies, causing Yelena to eventually give up.
For five full days, they traversed from one town to the next, transitioning from carriage to carriage. At each stop, Lif savored a warm, hearty dinner—a welcome departure from the packed cheese and dried meat she endured during the journey—and was provided with a fresh attire. Despite the presence of the Yagerist entourage trailing behind, the journey maintained an air of normalcy.
In Lif's view, their lack of discretion was conspicuous. When she inquired about it, Yelena simply asserted that since they had nothing to conceal, discretion was unnecessary. Lif voiced her 'concern' for Zeke's safety, but Yelena only offered a cryptic smile and remarked that, ultimately, it wouldn't make a difference. It didn't make sense to Lif, but in the end, she found she didn't care. If Zeke's demise occurred, so long as it wasn't at her hands or at the hands of those she held dearest, she wouldn't intervene to prevent it.
They did end up crossing the rest of the distance on train, and their final destination was the Paradis Harbor.
Stepping off the train, Lif was exhilarated by the scent of the sea. She yearned to sprint towards the ocean at full tilt, immersing herself in its salty embrace, savoring the taste of the water, and discovering yet another shell to carry home with her.
Home…
But with all the Yeagerists surrounding her, she wouldn't dare make such a move. The way some of them greeted their group while casting a sidelong glance at her, their guns poised and ready on their backs, she could sense the distrust in their eyes. They'd probably shoot her on the spot.
One might have expected her to receive recognition for facilitating Eren's encounter with Zeke amid Marley's sudden assault over two months ago. However, it seemed that trust in her and her squad remained elusive. Yet, this lack of acknowledgment hardly fazed her.
After enduring all that she and her squad had faced, she had grown accustomed to the untrustworthy stares.
She and Yelena strolled from the train station nestled in the harbor's center. The Yeagerists efficiently unloaded their possessions, ferrying them toward one of the larger buildings commanding views of both sea and port. This building, with its expansive meeting room, had been a frequent gathering place since its erection a year prior. Lif mused on the possibility of an impending arrival by sea and questioned Zeke's necessity in the matter.
She'd find out in due time, of course. But she was impatient.
"Why have we come to the harbor, of all places, Yelena?" Lif inquired, the two women leisurely making their way towards the bustling building where the Yeagerists were shuttling their belongings.
"Zeke favors the sea's vista, and this is the sole location on the island offering buildings with such a view," Yelena calmly explained.
"Yeah, sure," Lif replied, striving to conceal the sarcasm in her tone, and she sensed she had managed to do so. It appeared she might need to investigate further later.
She pondered whether Zeke would offer her the same reply if she were to question him. It wouldn't harm to inquire upon his arrival. He likely had already anticipated her curiosity regardless.
Upon entering the building, they ascended two flights of stairs before arriving at the corridor housing the living spaces. As Yelena opened the door to her room, Lif was immediately greeted by windows spanning the entire back wall, offering an impeccable view of the sea and harbor. She couldn't resist the allure of stepping closer to the windows. While her previous visits to the harbor had been brief and business-oriented, now... now she had the opportunity to truly immerse herself in the scenery.
Despite the harbor's bustling activity, the sight remained breathtaking. The sea held a mesmerizing charm. Perhaps, once everything had settled, she would consider finding a home near the sea.
Alone.
"Dinner will be prepared and delivered this evening. I do hope you enjoy your time here, Miss Varanus."
Lif didn't acknowledge Yelena, and she heard the door shut behind her after a moment. After a brief pause, Lif approached the door and opened it.
Though the door was unlocked, when Lif glanced down the corridor, she noticed two Yeagerists engaged in conversation near the stairwell. They seemed to sense her gaze, halting their discussion as they turned to look at her. The same expression of distrust was evident in their eyes, prompting Lif to close the door and retreat into the room.
So, what was she supposed to do now? The room appeared sparsely furnished. A sizable bed occupied the left-hand side, flanked by two dressers. In the center, a round table was accompanied by two wooden chairs, while another dresser stood on the right side next to a door. Upon opening the door, she discovered a compact bathroom containing a single sink, shower, and toilet.
The dresser contained civilian clothes, but to her dismay, no pants were in sight. She clicked her tongue in frustration, resolving to ask Zeke for pants upon his return. She despised wearing dresses and skirts, and the plain dark blue skirt she currently wore only added to her irritation.
Opting for something different, she selected a yellow dress, a departure from her usual attire, and made her way to the bathroom. A hot leisurely shower would help pass the time.
As Lif ventured back into the hallway later that evening, she found it eerily deserted. The corridor stretched before her, lined with six doors: three opposite her room and two flanking each side of her door. Contemplating Yelena's words, Lif speculated that Zeke's quarters could be among those adjacent to hers, presuming they occupied the same building.
It would have been wiser to assign them to separate buildings, but events were unfolding differently than she'd anticipated. Lif had been certain there would be guards posted outside her door, yet as she lingered in the hallway, straining to hear any sound, it seemed there was no one in the upstairs chambers or the downstairs meeting rooms.
She walked to the leftmost door, the farthest from the stairs, and was surprised to find it unlocked. Opening it without a care, she found a room similarly furnished to her own, nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, she closed the door and proceeded to the one right of hers, closest to the stairs. This door too was unlocked, and she swung it open to peer inside. Once more, the room boasted a familiar setup-but the bathroom door was on the left side instead of the right-save for a desk positioned in front of the windows, accompanied by a distinctive ornate chair.
It was the same chair she had sat in during her initial encounter with Zeke in his room within the interior walls, the one he'd used when he toyed with her.
Closing the door behind her, she stepped into the room. Making her way to the dresser, she opened the drawers and examined their contents. Inside, she found men's clothing neatly arranged, but this didn't definitively indicate that it was Zeke's room. It was entirely possible that this room belonged to Yelena.
She proceeded to the bathroom and discovered it was considerably larger than her own, featuring a full bath to the left, dual sinks, a toilet to the right, and cabinets adorning the walls. With a click of her tongue and a glare at the bathtub, she closed the door behind her and made her way to the desk. After opening all the drawers, she found them devoid of contents except for the topmost one on the right. Within it, she unearthed a wooden box, which she promptly placed on the desk before prying it open.
Realizing it was Zeke's room, she spotted his glasses nestled inside the box, alongside a peculiar, hefty leather glove and a white ball. She picked up the glasses first, scrutinizing them. Placing them on her nose, she adjusted them as they slid down her face, wondering why he had worn them if they weren't prescription. After folding them back into the box, she turned her attention to the bulky leather glove, finding it peculiar yet not remarkable. Returning it to the box, she then reached for the white ball.
She heard a knock and the creak of a door opening in the hallway. It seemed to come from her own door. Holding her breath, she waited as the door closed and footsteps drew nearer to Zeke's room. Then, she heard the door behind her swing open. Keeping her composure, she focused on examining the ball, expecting Yelena to question her actions.
But it wasn't Yelena's voice that filled the room.
"Is snooping a regular pastime for you, or is my room simply irresistible?" Zeke said from the doorway, not sounding surprised to see her, yet not expressing anger at finding her there either.
She turned to face him, masking any alarm with a composed expression. "Snooping tends to be my go-to when I'm bored. And I have a feeling you don't exactly mind," she remarked casually, tossing the ball in the air and deftly catching it again. His blue eyes tracked the ball's movement before he closed the door behind him.
He nonchalantly shrugged off his familiar Marleyan beige jacket, hanging it on the door hooks to reveal his standard attire: a crisp white button-up shirt, complemented by cream pants and his signature thigh-high combat boots. As she observed his attire, she couldn't help but ponder if he ever wore anything else. Yet, his actions evoked memories of their previous encounters, causing a blush to threaten her composure. She quickly concealed any hint of warmth in her cheeks, unwilling for him to misconstrue her reaction to his jacket removal as anything other than innocent.
But then he started to unbutton his shirt.
She halted her motion of tossing the ball in the air and stared at him incredulously. "What do you think you're doing?" Now her cheeks flushed red, damn it.
"Retiring for the night, of course. This is my room, and after a long ride here, a nice shower sounds pleasant," he explained, unbuttoning the last button of his shirt. He glanced up at her, his eyes, as usual, inscrutable. She couldn't fathom what she must look like—hunched over with his ball in her hands, her eyes wide as she observed him undress, uncertain of what she should do next, her face ablaze with embarrassment.
She stood there, uncertain of her next move, and then impulsively hurled the ball at him.
Hard.
He swiftly caught the ball with his right hand, momentarily pausing his attempt to remove his shirt. He regarded her with wide eyes, a hint of amusement twinkling within them. "And now you're attacking me with my favorite ball. Why am I not surprised?"
He tossed the ball back at her, and she caught it without hesitation, her annoyance growing. As he did so, his untucked shirt drifted open, unveiling his smooth, muscular chest.
Despite her animosity towards him, she found herself unable to resist admiring the sculpted contours of his body. It was clear that he devoted considerable effort to maintain his physique.
"You visited my room first, so you wanted to talk to me before retiring for the night. Don't act like what you're doing now isn't an attempt to rile me up, asshole," she retorted, tossing the ball back at him. She didn't entirely understand why she did it, but she needed to do something to divert her attention from staring at his smooth, muscular chest.
As he caught it, a peculiar expression crossed his face, and he regarded the ball with a sense of curiosity, as though it were a newfound treasure. Then, his gaze shifted to her, filled with a sense of wonder. "Tell me something, why throw this ball to me?" Then he tossed the ball back to her.
She caught it again and gazed down at the ball, now understanding that it held significance for him. The box she had found likely contained cherished items of sentimental value. She began to wonder if she had overstepped a boundary with him. It wouldn't be out of character for her; she often acted impulsively, irritating others in the process.
She realized that she wasn't getting off to a good start with their agreement. She contemplated whether he had meticulously arranged those valuables within the box and whether it was considered taboo to handle or inspect them. His question took on a new meaning when considered from this angle.
"I also tried on your glasses," she told him truthfully, hoping to confess before he discovered it on his own to lessen the impact. "They were too big, so I didn't keep them on for long. I also examined your thick glove thing."
Approaching her, Lif tensed, bracing herself for his potential anger. However, to her surprise, he joined her side and directed his attention to the wooden box, retrieving his glasses. He examined them thoughtfully. "These belonged to someone I considered a father figure," he explained. Then, picking up the glove, he continued, "These items were his. He was the former holder of the Beast Titan, and during my training in the warrior program, we often played a game of catch together." Placing the items back in the box, he pushed it closer to her. She gently placed the ball alongside the glove, and he closed the box, returning it to the drawer where she had discovered it. Turning to her, he tilted his head slightly. "You didn't answer my question."
He stood so close to her that she could smell the faint hints of smoke, along with another scent, something musky and unfamiliar. She looked up at him, beyond the expanse of his exposed chest, past his beard, and into his eyes, which gazed down at her with the same sense of wonder as before, tinged with something darker.
His towering over her caught her off guard. It was easy to forget just how short she was until she found herself standing next to anyone. Even Mikasa, who stood half a foot taller than her, served as a constant reminder of her own diminutive stature.
She might have pondered whether she appeared childlike in his eyes if it weren't for the sudden yearning she detected behind his gaze. Yet, she couldn't discern if it was a longing for passion or something entirely different.
She had to remind herself of the promise she made earlier that week. Being truthful was essential to earning his trust, especially if his desire for her went beyond the initial attraction he felt for her, and he failed to let her go once he fulfilled his desires and continued to pursue her. She needed every bit of leverage she could gather to secure any favors he might offer in the upcoming year.
She had come to terms in allowing him to use her body, and in exchange, she would leverage his influence.
So, she concluded that honesty was her best course of action.
Blushing, she crossed her arms and averted her gaze in embarrassment. "What else was I supposed to do when you were taking off your shirt? I freaked out, okay?"
His left hand rose, cradling her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his gaze. A smile played on his lips as he regarded her with his deep, penetrating eyes. "Do you frequently resort to injuring people when you're embarrassed? That first throw you made was rather forceful. If I hadn't caught it, you might have cracked a rib."
He was toying with her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. She didn't hurl it with that much force. "Perhaps you brought it upon yourself. Disrobing in the presence of a lady hardly befits a gentleman," she quipped. Her gaze briefly darted to his lips before returning to meet his eyes, evoking memories of their shared carriage ride and the intimate exchange they had shared before they were interrupted.
And what she'd asked of him.
Recognition flickered in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Yet, what caught her off guard was his release of her chin, followed by his abrupt turn away from her.
Did-did he just reject her? Did she do something wrong?
He strode towards the dresser, deftly pulling open a drawer. With his back turned to her, he sifted through its contents, his voice echoing softly across the room. "Dinner will be served shortly. That's why I made a brief stop at your room first—to extend an invitation to dine together once it arrives. I also intended to freshen up with a quick shower beforehand. I suspect I might reek of shit."
"Is that why you turned away, because you think you smell?" She asked the question with genuine curiosity.
"Don't pretend you didn't notice."
Lif walked over to Zeke, who was still rummaging through his drawer. She took a deep breath as she drew near, then gently laid her head on the middle of his back. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she was glad his back was turned to her. He stiffened too, but made no move to shift away or push her aside. To her, that was a good sign.
"I stand by what I said in the carriage a few days ago," she confessed in a hushed tone. "And I apologize for my impatience, but I must know, Zeke. I need to understand if I'm capable of... of..." Damn, the words failed her. She wondered if he sensed the warmth of her cheeks through his shirt.
But she meant every word. She genuinely sought to understand if she could be with him. If she couldn't bring herself to kiss him, then she couldn't fathom having sex with him. If she recoiled, if disgust overtook her, it rendered any subsequent actions irrelevant. She wouldn't be able to grant consent to be with him in that manner.
"You're aware, this marks the second instance you've uttered my name," he remarked, his tone as apathetic as ever.
"I hadn't realized."
"Consider this scenario: should we engage in a kiss, and you discover you're unable to reciprocate my feelings in that manner, what action would you take after?"
His feelings?
"I must admit, I haven't thought that far yet. It seems the decision would ultimately rest with you."
"And if I were to express dissatisfaction with those prospects?"
The aroma of cigarettes lingered faintly on his back, yet a stronger musky scent permeated the air. Was this the fragrance he alluded to? It evoked neither displeasure nor delight as she smelt it.
"Consider it another favor I am asking for then. I'm fully aware I lack the entitlement to request it." She searched for words to sway him, but her efforts seemed futile. Another insult could be hurled, but she questioned its efficacy.
Her desire to insult him stemmed from a need to assert dominance over the situation. A characteristic she acknowledged as one of her shortcomings.
He spun around swiftly, and Lif was met with the sight of his open shirt and the pale, smooth expanse of his skin. She couldn't muster the courage to meet his gaze, fearing she might reconsider.
But she had to proceed.
She had to…
Once again, his hand sought her chin, lifting it gently to meet his eyes. She longed to shut her eyes, to turn away, to unleash the insults poised on her tongue. Yet, she hesitated. Could she truly do it? But this was ultimately her decision, and she needed to follow through.
To follow through and kiss the man who killed so many people in pursuit of a goal she didn't entirely understand.
As she gazed into his searching, imploring eyes, her hands rose and settled on his chest, her thumbs lightly brushing his skin. He inhaled sharply at her touch, his eyes briefly closing before reopening. They were dark, beseeching, silently posing a question, to which she responded with a slight tilt of her chin and a subtle parting of her lips.
As he advanced, the visage that had claimed so many lives approached hers with alarming speed, causing her to instinctively recoil. She immediately regretted her reaction as he withdrew, a fresh query evident in his gaze. Meeting his eyes, she found herself speechless but desperately hoped he perceived the warmth in her gaze, silently urging him to make another attempt. She wanted him to know she was remorseful.
She vowed not to flinch from this murderer again. Never again.
His hands cradled her cheeks, thumbs tracing delicate circles along her cheekbones, prompting her to briefly shut her eyes before reopening them. He remained fixated on her, attentively noting each small shift. With a deliberate slowness, he leaned in once more. Their gaze remained locked, unbroken. His captivating, blue eyes, despite their deadly allure, held her in a trance.
The first sensation she felt was the slight touch of his beard, then she felt them: the warmth that was his lips. If it weren't for his hands on her cheeks, she might have recoiled again out of surprise at how warm they felt against hers, how welcoming they communicated. They didn't feel like the lips of a murderer.
They felt pleasant, pleading in a language she had never witnessed before. They felt innocent, untested in this art of intimacy. And his eyes, they shimmered with an overwhelming intensity that mirrored what she was experiencing against her lips, and she wondered if she was reflecting his emotions with her own eyes.
It was all too much to bear.
His lips parted, an indirect invitation, and hers responded in kind, delicately gliding over his tender top lip, while his gently encompassed her bottom lip. A shiver ran through him, and his eyes drifted shut, drawing hers along with them into the depths of their intimate connection.
In that moment, she surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, letting it sweep her away from the confines of reality, blurring the boundaries of identity and desire. It was effortless, the allure of their embrace enveloping her in a blissful haze.
Yet beneath the surface of pleasure, a nagging doubt lingered—a whisper of unease amidst the sweetness of their entwined lips.
Once more, their lips parted, subtly shifting to find a new, more intimate angle. As their lips embraced, a fresh surge of warmth enveloped her, sending a delightful shiver down her spine. His hands, almost imperceptible in their movement, glided from her cheeks to the nape of her neck, urging her deeper into the enchanting embrace. The other found their way to her upper back, gently pressing her closer, causing her breasts to mold against him. In response, her own hands instinctively sought purchase, one gripping his shoulder with a fervent urgency, while the other tenderly cradled the back of his neck, as if afraid her legs might betray her in the face of such overwhelming sensation.
Never before had she experienced anything quite like this.
Just when she believed she had explored every conceivable sensation, a faint tingling caressed her bottom lip, igniting a cascade of reactions that sent waves of, something, down to her core. The delicate tickle teased her lips apart, eliciting a soft gasp as it danced upwards to her inner upper lip before vanishing. Their lips momentarily parted, only to reconnect with a new intensity. With an instinctual curiosity, she traced the elusive sensation with her tongue, intertwining it with hers amidst the playful dance of their mouths. As the sensation withdrew, she pursued it eagerly, pressing her lips fervently against his, causing him to gasp in delight at the unexpected pleasure.
And then their lips parted again, and Lif followed his retreating form up and up until she was on her tiptoes and she no longer felt his kiss anymore. Then she opened her eyes in confusion, wondering why it had all stopped.
And reality hit her like a rock slide.
She buried the rising panic deep within. Later, away from Zeke's gaze filled with wonder and desire, she would dissect her actions in solitude, grappling with the tumultuous experience and crafting an explanation that wouldn't leave her doubting her own sanity.
"Well," Zeke asserted, his voice still slightly tinged with longing. "I trust that sufficiently addresses your inquiry, Lif."
Without further words, Lif remained silent, unnecessary as a knock echoed at the door. Zeke cast a lingering gaze before attending to the caller, and soon after, a tantalizing feast arrived—a medley of freshly caught crab and clams from the nearby harbor, accompanied by freshly baked bread still steaming from the oven.
After a meal shrouded in silence, Lif retreated to her room, where she swiftly sought solace in the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the air as she turned on both the shower and faucet. Sitting on the tiled floor beside the sink, she found herself driven to repeatedly smack her forehead against the cool wall, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. She pondered the warmth she had experienced, grappling with its implications and the way it had settled deep within her core.
(Author's note: another early chapter. Hope you enjoyed the "fluff" near the end...
Let me know what you think of said fluff. First time writing it!)