dude-why-3

[dude-why-3]

Under the Willow Tree– chapter 2, is now up on ao3!

Hope you enjoy :)

As the sun sets down, casting shades of orange and yellow over the trees, Armin drags his feet down to the river. He smoothens down his shirt with trembling fingers, runs his hand down the intricate patterns, hoping he didn’t get the fabric dirty. His legs are throbbing from the long day of standing, the skin on his hands red and raw and itchy, and the dirt under his feet feels so much worse than he remembers– he could almost bet, there are splinters and cuts on his feet.

Armin comes to a halt a few blocks away from the river, searching his surroundings for Annie. The grass shines in the golden rays, spotted with white and blue flowers here and there; the river’s bank, the willow tree on its shore, the bulrush growing along the river’s flow, swaying slightly with the wind.

And there, under the willow tree, barely visible through its thick hanging leaves, he spots her– sitting quaintly under the tree, her shoulders hunched and head hanging low as if she were reading something, her hair let loose much like it was earlier. As he approaches her, her image becomes more visible, clearer. Her shoes are kicked to the side, laying in the grass next to her. She’s sitting with her legs crossed, the same book as earlier resting open on her lap, and she’s so focused on the page she doesn’t acknowledge him. Armin studies her, her relaxed expression, the way she gently flips the page with a kind of care and consideration he wouldn’t have expected from her.

And then his knee gives in and he loses his balance, yelping a little as he stomps his foot down to stop himself from falling. Which only sends a sharp tinge of pain all throughout his body, making him squat down and groan in pain.

Annie jumps in her skin at the sudden sounds, snapping the book closed and raising her eyes towards him, wide and alert.

“What are you doing?” comes her voice, high and pitched. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

Armin whimpers helplessly. He fully sits on the ground, grabbing his foot between his hands and running his fingers along its sole in search of wounds. Thankfully, he finds none.

Annie narrows her eyes at him, scanning him up and down.

“What's wrong with you?”

Her voice is much more leveled, as it were earlier in the day, and if he didn’t know better he could have mistaken that change of tone for worry.

“I think I stepped on a rock,” he says, rubbing his foot to chase the pain away. “I didn't mean to scare you,” he adds truthfully.

“That's what you get for walking around barefoot,” she comments.

Armin breathes in deeply and lets the air out through his nose. “Not all of us have the luxury of affording shoes,” he retorts.

Annie presses her lips together, looking away for a second as if she resented her words. Armin shuffles to his feet, drawing her attention towards himself again. He dares approach the willow tree with short, careful steps, her eyes scrutinizing his every move, her stare burning through his skin.

Before he gets the chance to sit down, she fires another string of leveled words at him. “Where have you found that blouse?”

The boy narrows his eyes, looking down at himself as if to check what he was wearing– an old blouse belonging to his late father, hanging a bit loose on him. It was supposed to be white, he thinks, but time had worn it out and yellowed it. Yet the patterns carefully embroidered on its front are as lively as the day his mother sewed them on, little blue birds adorning the cloth. The sleeves are adorned with the same colorful pattern, closing around his wrists with a band of blue rectangles.

He looks back up at Annie with furrowed brows. The glint in her eye takes him by surprise, for she looks far too interested in the old piece of clothing.

“…in my basement?” he answers her question, a bit of intrigue in his voice.

She frowns. “Don't mock me,” she warns.

“I'm not mocking you.”

“Then where have you found it?” she insists. “Such a color as that of your blouse is rare, it must have cost a fortune. And look at that pattern!”

Armin blinks once, twice. There is a sort of excitement in her voice that he doesn’t quite understand. He dares sit next to her, letting his body finally relax. He leans his head back against the tree's trunk and closes his eyes, letting the soft wind wash his thoughts away. He hears Annie shuffle closer, getting so impossibly closer to him, her knees pressing against his thigh. His face warms up.

When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Annie huddled right next to him, marveling at his sleeve. She’s so close that he can take in her scent, sweet and flowery.

“You can touch it if you want,” he offers.

Annie startles momentarily, and she looks up at him with wide eyes, her complexion dusted pink.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He offers her his arm, and she slowly and carefully takes it in her hands as if afraid to break it. She runs her fingers along the pattern, tracing the little birds with her index finger, a little smile forming on her lips. Armin takes the chance to study her features– her blonde hair that looks so soft, cascading over her shoulders and down her back, the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips, the color of her eyes, so icy and cold and yet so warm, glistening with a kind of curiosity he finds rare. He doesn’t think he's ever seen anyone this beautiful before.

“My mother made this blouse,” he finally answers her question.

Annie hums lightly, still enchanted by the blue. “Where did she find such a color?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Armin presses his lips together. “I'm not sure,” he admits. “I've never asked.”

Truth be told, there’s great many things he hasn’t asked his mother, and will never get the chance to know.

Annie looks up at him then, meeting his eyes. She parts her lips, and he can guess what she’s about to say by the look in her eyes, so he cuts her short.

“She passed when I was but a child,” he blurts out.

Annie closes her mouth, her eyes widening the tiniest bit. She presses her lips together in a tight line and casts her eyes down, staring at his blouse a moment longer.

“We have that in common,” comes her voice, low and leveled.

Armin’s eyes widen slightly. He figures he must express his condolences, yet he finds himself at a loss of words. The girl peels her hands away from his sleeve and clears her throat.

“Will you teach me how to dance now?” she asks, adopting a more serious expression.

Armin shakes his thoughts away. His eyes narrow.

“I'll teach you how to dance after you let me read.”

Annie clicks her tongue dismissively. The boy raises an eyebrow, feeling his heart pick up speed. She's tricked him. It was all a prank, a trap he so foolishly fell into, she was never going to share her spoils with him.

“First, you'll teach me how to dance, then you can read,” she says, a note of authority in her voice. He doesn’t quite like the sound of it.

He bites his tongue, stopping himself from habitually agreeing. Behind the blonde, the sun is lazily setting, it will be twilight soon. He cannot read in the dark, and he desperately wants to read, his fingers itching to hold a book again, to feel its weight, its texture, to run his fingers against the pages, to breathe in the scent of the forbidden fruit. To delight himself in endless knowledge and let his mind finally relax. He needs to read again, for he has not touched a book since the day they were dumped in this village.

“No.” He presses his lips together and stares at her with what he hopes is a decisive look. Annie stares him down with an unreadable expression, making him question himself. He gulps down, gathering his courage. “I'll read first. Until the sun sets. Then, I'll teach you how to dance.”

Annie blows out air through her nose. “How can we dance in the dark? I won’t see the steps,” she argues.

“And you think I can read in the dark?” he shoots back. He can feel the tips of his ears heating up.

The girl furrows her brows, as if she didn’t expect that anyone would oppose her word.

“Besides, these dances usually happen at night. You don't need to see anything, you just have to feel the music–”

The mayor's daughter scoffs. “What music?” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the tree bark. “We don’t have any music here,” she mumbles.

Armin presses his lips together. She does have a point, there is no music. He casts his eyes down, staring at the book and its brown covers, calling out to him. He so desperately needs to hold it, to read it, to bask into whatever new world it hides.

An idea starts blooming In his mind– but no, he cannot do that, not in front of the mayor’s daughter. He cannot embarrass himself that way.

But the sun is setting and he's running out of time.

“I can hum,” he says. His voice comes out in something of a sequel, and his face immediately heats up.

Her head snaps up. She stares at him with wide eyes and a crooked eyebrow, as if questioning his sanity. But he cannot back down now.

“I can hum a song for us to dance to.” He steals a glance at the sun dangerously setting behind her head. “But I really need to read first. Please, miss Leonhart,” he adds, and he hates how desperate his voice sounds. Though he guesses he is rather desperate.

Her eyes widen the slightest bit. She stares him dead in the eye, and he quivers under her glare, his face slowly heating up. He would have never thought he'd end up begging anyone for anything, much less the mayor's daughter of all people, yet here he is.

“It's Annie,” she eventually says. She thrusts the book towards him. “You can read, until the sun sets, and then you will teach me how to dance.”

He nods thoroughly. His hands grab the covers, but Annie doesn't loosen her grip on it. He frowns. She's already staring at him with a stern look on her face.

“And don't ever call me that again.”

Armin nods slowly, and Annie finally lets go of the book.

His hands shake as he runs his finger across the letters on the front cover– One thousand and one nights. He has a vague memory of his grandfather reading it to him when he was but a toddler, in the warmth of their little home, way before they were ripped out of it. He can’t help but smile when he opens the book and reads the familiar formula.

As he reads, he feels Annie’s eyes on him, burning holes through him. He raises his gaze, finding her eyes already studying him. But her expression is much softer, almost gentle. Her complexion picks up color upon realizing that she's been caught and she casts her eyes away.

His lips pull up the tiniest bit. “I can read out loud, if you want.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “If it's not too much trouble,” she mutters.

Armin hums. He starts again from the top, keeping his voice leveled as he goes on. He steals a glance at Annie, just in time to see her bring her knees to her chest and rest her chin on top of them.

He lets himself sink into the story, getting lost in the world Scheherazade describes. He's fascinated by it, enchanted by it.

And then the chapter comes to an end just as the story is about to draw its conclusion. He flips the page, unsure if he should go on or not. He steals another glance at Annie, quietly asking for permission to go on. He finds her eyes already on him, studying him closely, following his every move. The sun is slowly disappearing behind her, closing into twilight.

She doesn’t say anything, her lips sealed shut, but her eyes sparkle of curiosity and something like impatience.

Armin closes the book carefully, then thrusts it back to her. She looks at it for a second before taking it from him.

“You can go on, you know,” she mutters, setting it between them.

He shakes his head. “That's alright, thank you.” He raises to his feet and offers her his hand. “Let's dance.”

Her eyes widen the slightest bit, a small smile flashing on her lips. She takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. Yet his hand lingers, taking in the softness of her palm for a moment before she drops it.

Armin clears his throat. “What dance do you want to learn?”

“All of them,” she answers simply.

Armin hums, tilting his head to the side. “Well, we don’t have time to go through all of them tonight.”

Annie averts her gaze, staring at God knows what. She crosses her arms across her chest, pouting slightly as she thinks.

“But,” he says, an idea slowly forming into his mind. Annie crooks an eyebrow at him. “We can do this again. We can meet here every day after I'm done with work. You'll let me read one chapter and I'll teach you one dance.”

Annie hums, then nods. “That sounds like a plan.”

They don’t shake on it the way he's seen merchants do. They just nod in silent agreement before joining hands, and starting on the first dance.

[dude-why-3]

Who painted the sky?

Chapter 25: Teenage Dream

Reiner is probably the worst driver she’s ever met. 

Around noon, when the bunch of them finally packed up and were ready to leave, he was the first one to call for the wheel– Hannah has very graciously given them her van keys and wished them fun, though she doubted Marie knew anything about their shenanigans. The kids were barely out the driveway when they set off.

Annie groans in the backseat as Reiner overrides another driver, sinking into her seat. She crosses her arms over her chest, trying her best not to wake Pieck up in the process, as she’s sleeping on her shoulder. Sasha, Connie and Jean have dived into an elaborate game of cards behind her, with Armin trying to explain why they’re doing it all wrong and them persisting in their mistakes. In the passenger’s seat, Hitch changes the radio again. 

Reiner speeds up again, completely oblivious to the bumps in the road. Had she not had her belt on, she’s pretty sure she would have hit her head on the roof.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Annie snaps.

He eyes her through the rear view and scowls at her. “What’s your problem?”

“Your driving is my problem.”

The chatter behind her simmers down. 

Hitch turns around with a raised eyebrow.

“There’s nothing wrong with my driving,” he says, as he runs a red light.

Annie rolls her eyes. “If my father's not busy, he can drive better than you, and he’s missing a damn leg!”

She regrets saying that as soon as it leaves her mouth. The car silences down. Pieck stirs awake, groaning unhappily. Armin reaches for her hand, his lips pressed together, probably in an attempt to comfort her, but she draws away. Hitch throws her a wide-eyed look over the seat.

To his grace, Reiner does slow down. But then he pulls the car over and stops the engine. 

Reiner turns around red-faced, a frown between his brows. Annie stares him down, scowling.

“How about you take the wheel if you’re that unhappy with my driving?”

“Gladly,” she bites back.

She curses herself as soon as she sits behind the wheel. What the hell was she thinking? She hasn’t driven in months, and hasn’t touched a van before in her life. 

She fixes the seat, bringing it closer to the wheel, and checks the mirrors. Reiner slides into the backseat, pushing Armin to the middle. The latter offers a smile through the rearview mirror, though it does little to help her.

“Do you even have a license?” asks Hitch, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course I have a fucking license,” she groans.

Very slowly, she starts the car, wheeling it out of the improvised parking spot Reiner found on the side of the highway. And then they’re on the road again. She takes a breath in, slowly letting it out through her mouth as she speeds up the tiniest bit and enrolls on her lane. She grips the wheel tighter, so much so that her fingers turn white, keeping her gaze ahead.

And for a minute she thinks she’s doing great. They’re moving, they’re in their lane, no one's honking their ears off. Her heart is doing backflips in her chest, but she manages to keep her thoughts at bay.

But then she hears Reiner's irritating voice.

“You call that driving?”

She has to try really hard not to roll her eyes and keep her gaze on the road.

“It is much safer than whatever you had going on,” Pieck chimes in.

Her lips pull up– she’s still got it. “Thank you.”

“We might even get there by the end of August,” Reiner mumbles.

Hitch turns around in her seat. “Oh, cut her some slack, will you?” She stares Reiner down for a moment, who raises his hands above his head in defeat. She turns back to Annie and offers a slight smile. “You're doing great.” 

Annie murmurs her thanks, her heart calming down a little. She dares speed up the tiniest bit, just enough to stay within the speed limit. Hitch brings her phone closer to her face, scowling at it.

“We're supposed to leave the highway via the first exit on the right.”

Annie hums, keeping her eyes out for the exit. She finds she quite enjoys being behind the wheel, being in control of it all. To their grace, her colleagues do calm down, allowing her mind to clear. And while they definitely could have gotten there quicker, the sun is still high in the sky when she pulls the car into the parking lot of their Airbnb.

They’re quick to leave the car and grab their bags. The others head for the building, all chitter and chatter, leaving her to deal with the car. 

And yet, as soon as her feet meet the ground, Annie finds herself throwing up. She barely has time to bend down so as to not get her shirt dirty.

She doesn’t even realise Armin has fallen behind until his hand meets her shoulder blade. He looks down at her with worried eyes, his hand drawing comforting patterns on her back. Annie grabs his shirt, attempting to push him away, when a second wave hits her.

But he doesn’t relent. His other hand comes up to her arm for support, and she thinks she might have collapsed had it not been for his hold. 

She rests her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths in to calm herself down. 

“You’re okay,” Armin says, but his voice is distant. Only now does she register the ringing in her ears. 

He brushes the hair out of her face. When she meets his gaze, there’s a gentle smile on his lips, yet his eyes are furrowed with worry.

She straightens her back a bit, running her fingers through her bangs– when have they gotten so damp? She attempts a smile, though she can see it on his face that it’s not reassuring in the slightest, nor convincing.

“I’m fine,” she says, and her voice comes out rather hoarse. She clears her throat. “I just– I haven’t driven since…” but she trails away. Armin hums, and she knows he must have gotten it. “I haven’t driven in a long time,” she concludes. “So it was nerve wracking. But we got here in one piece, so… yay me?”

Armin scoffs, his expression softening. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and brings her closer, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. “You did great, Annie.”

Her heart melts in her chest, and the tension leaves her body then. She would have liked to bask in his warmth a moment longer, but she bets she stinks, and she desperately needs a shower. 

She locks the car and pockets the key. Armin takes her backpack before she even gets the chance to fully put it on, arguing that it’s now his duty as a boyfriend to do stuff like this. She lets it go with an eye roll, not really finding the energy to argue anyway. Instead, she intertwines her fingers with his as they climb up the stairs to their rental.

The place is rather nice– a small, one-story building painted a dirty white, with ivy having taken up most of the front wall, and a wooden door at the entrance. It has a mini flower garden at the front, surrounded by a low fence, with flowers of all colors basking in the sun. There’s an apple tree to the side, standing tall and providing shadow. 

It opens into an open space, the kitchen in tones of yellow opening into the living room, divided only by a counter, which is surrounded by tall stools– which have already been taken up by her colleagues. There’s a TV enhanced in a bookcase, also wooden, throning in the middle of the room, and a corner couch opposite from it. Colorful pillows adorn it, contrasting its dark brown cushions. There are two wooden doors on either side of the living room, probably leading to the bedrooms– Hitch said there were only two, but they could make do with it. They’re only staying one night anyway. 

Getting themselves settled doesn’t take long. When she gets out of the shower, she finds the others huddled together on the couch, crouched over Hitch's phone. She drops down next to them, butting her head in just enough to take a glance at the map. Her brows furrow.

“What are we looking at?”

“We're trying to figure out how to get to the funfair,” says Pieck, who's holding the flyer. 

Annie hums. She squints at the piece of paper to make out the address it indicates. Before long, Hitch declares she's found it, and jumps to her feet at once. 

Annie makes sure to pocket her camera on their way out, and out they go.

Turns out, whatever Hitch has found was futile, for they end up wandering the streets aimlessly for what feels like forever. 

The sun is starting to set above them when they find the funfair, casting down hues of orange and soft yellow. 

But the everlasting murmur of the festival makes it worth the bit. The funfair is a lot bigger than what Annie’s initially pictured of it– the image she had in her mind was that of a small fest held by some kid scouts, with a lemonade stand and maybe a few ponies, as the kid has said. But it’s so much more impressive. There’s colorful carussels all around, and food stands of many types lining the streets, as well as workshops. Fairy lights have been lined all around and, even though they’re not on yet, they make it even more ephemeral. And in the middle of it all, a Ferris wheel stands tall.

The streets are flooded with people of all ages,  chatting away unbothered. The smell of food makes her stomach grumble, and only now does she realise that she hasn’t eaten anything since morning– her stomach felt uneasy after having driven the van, so she turned down Armin’s generous offer of cheese sticks. She would love some right about now, though.

She doesn’t even realise the others have stopped until she bumps into Reiner’s back. He turns back to her with a scowl, and she frowns right back– why would he stop in the middle of the street anyway?

“What should we do first?” comes Hitch’s voice. 

Everyone has gathered around her as if waiting for directions. Her light pink dress ruffles in the light breeze, and if she didn’t know any better, Annie would say she looks like a fairy godmother who’s about to give them the quest of a lifetime. 

Pieck takes the flyer out of her skirt’s pocket and studies it thoroughly. She raises an eyebrow at the thing. 

“Well, there are plenty of activities,” she says, flipping the thing over. “Oh, there’s a concert at ten, if you guys are into that.”

Jean leans over, peeking over her shoulder. “Who’s playing?”

“Uh, I’ve never heard of them… No Name?”

Annie’s stomach grumbles again. It must have been louder this time, for Armin turns to her with a frown on his face. He studies her thoroughly, his expression softening, and Annie feels her face heat up under the intensity of his gaze.

He turns back to the others. “Maybe we should get something to eat first,” he suggests.

Nobody protests. Sasha even jumps up and down a little, gushing over how excited she is about all the festival food.

Armin throws her a quick smile, the skin around his eyes wrinkling up the tiniest bit. Annie shakes her head briefly, though she can’t help the smile spreading on her lips. As the group starts looking for a food stand that would satisfy all of their needs, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it lightly. His smile only widens when her fingers intertwine with his, and even more so when she raises on her tippy toes and pecks his cheek, short and sweet. Even in the dimming light of the sunset, his blush is still visible, and for a second she takes pride in the fact that she’s flustering him just as much as he does her. For a second she thinks they might be even.

But then he lifts her hand, his fingers gripping hers ever so tighter, and her eyes widen slightly when he brings it to his lips. He kisses her knuckles, his lips brushing over her skin in a feather light manner that sends shivers down her back. Annie’s entire being warms up, her heart melting in her chest.

When he looks up at her, there’s a devilish grin on his face that lets her know he knows exactly what he’s doing, that he’s extremely accustomed to her reactions by now. Flustering her this way, there’s nothing accidental in it. It’s all done purposefully. 

But he doesn’t allow her to bask in it. 

“Let’s try to stay with the others,” he says, and only now does she realise that they’ve fallen behind. Again.

When they catch up to the other volunteers, they’ve already decided on corndogs as their token festival food, which Annie can’t complain about. She’s had them only a few times, but she reckons she didn’t hate them.

Turns out, the festival corndogs are exponentially better than whatever she’s had before. Excessively oily, sure, but delicious nonetheless. It makes her famished stomach feel so warm that she even ends up having a second one, though she’s still not quite full when she’s done. But the others are getting bored, way too hyped to see the festival to wait around any longer, so Annie finds herself pulled away from her treasured corndog stand. She does get herself a glazed apple on their way to the first attraction– the Ferris wheel– and she manages to finish it while they wait in line. The queue is unbearably long, to the point where her legs start hurting from standing. 

The wheel goes round twice before they even get to the ticket post, but it’s plenty of time for them to decide on the sitting arrangement, which they have quite an issue settling on. Hitch insists that they should do couples, as she wants to kiss Reiner at the top of the Ferris Wheel– she’s read it's a good omen for couples. Annie doesn’t miss the way Armin steals a glance at her then, the corner of his lips arched up slightly. It makes her entire being warm up, but she says nothing, letting the others bicker away. The mere knowledge that she’s on his mind as much as he is on hers is caress enough.

They do eventually agree on booking two cars, one for the girls and the other for the boys– which Connie cheers for, excitedly dragging Reiner and Jean after him as the first car empties.

Turns out, the Ferris Wheel is rather fun, especially with friends by your side. Annie lets herself relax as they slowly ascend upwards. Hitch is beaming next to her, excitedly looking out the window, a big smile plastered on her face. Across from her, Sasha and Pieck only match her excitement. 

Annie crosses her arms over her chest, daring to look out the window herself. Her breath catches in her throat. It all looks so small from up there, an indefinite blob of colors, like a smudged painting in the rain. The festival lights are nothing but little blobs of lights, the people only dots in a sea of shapes. 

She reaches for her camera, snapping a picture of it all.

“Hey, take one of us, too!” Hitch beams.

Her lips arch up, but she complies, fitting their smiling faces into the frame and snapping the photograph.

The wheel stops at the very top, allowing them to fully take it all in. Their boys put their heads through the window of their own car, waving widely, big smiles plastered on all of their faces. Annie snaps another picture of all of them just before the wheel starts descending again.

Then there’s a screech. The sound of metal on metal. The lights flicker off for a moment and then back on. And the thing stops working altogether. 

A kid starts crying. Someone yells, “I'm suing you!”, and the sound of general panic settles in.

Annie’s heart skips a beat, her eyes widening. Hitch latches onto her arm, holding on for dear life. Pieck shrieks, grabbing onto the window sill. Sasha jumps to her feet and leans over the window towards the boys’ car.

“Are you lot alright?”

A beat of silence. Then, “We're okay!” comes Armin's voice. “Are you?”

“Yep, we're good!” Sasha steals a glance at the girls, a grin forming on her lips. “Hitch looks like she’s gonna piss herself, but otherwise we're okay!”

Hitch scowls at her. “Hey, this counts as defamation!”

Sasha howls out a laugh, and for a second Annie thinks she’s gonna fall over the edge.

But then another wave of panic erupts, this time from the other car. 

“Reiner, do not light that cigarette!” Armin says, a tint of alarm in his voice

Annie’s eyes widen. She exchanges a look with the others. Pieck raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side slightly. Sasha raises on her tippy toes to try and see into their car, and Hitch runs her hand down her face with a groan. 

“I swear to God, man, if you light that shit up–” comes Jean’s loud protest. 

There’s the flicker of a lighter, and a flash of light coming from their car.

Connie laments loudly, “Oh, we’re gonna die!”

There’s a beat a silence, but then the lighter is thrown out the window, followed closely by the almost untouched cigarette. It sizzles through the air until it’s put out, and then they vanish out of eyesight. A moment later, Reiner’s head pokes through the window, a frown between his brows.

“The fuck was that for?!” he snaps, but his voice cracks towards the end. Had she not known him, she would have said he was about to break down crying.

“You were endangering all of us!” comes Armin’s reply, his voice leveled.

“That was unnecessary!”

The wheel screeches again, and before she knows it they’re moving again, descending towards the ground. Cheers erupt from around the Wheel. Sasha reclaims her seat, though she keeps an ear out for whatever’s going down in the boys’ car– though she doubts she can make out anything.

When they get back on the ground, Reiner is the first to split from the group, mumbling something about finding his lighter. Hitch hurries after him, linking her arm with his and whispering something in his ear. Sasha and Connie soon vanish themselves too, saying something about needing the loo.

Pieck takes the flyer out of her skirt’s pocket and squints at it, bringing it closer to her eyes. Jean looks over her shoulder with a similar expression, reading over the words with narrowed eyes. 

Annie buries her hands in her pockets, and finds herself looking for Armin, and she eventually finds him behind all the others. His face looks a little green, his lips crooked downwards. He looks unfocused, but then he catches her eyes and seems to freeze a little before he plasters a smile, however small, on his lips. She frowns, studying his face thoroughly. 

“It looks like the concert is about to start,” Pieck eventually says, folding the flyer back up.

“Let’s find the stage,” Jean urges, already turning around.

“I think I’ll sit this one out, guys,” says Armin, running his hand down his face.

Annie’s frown only deepens. Something’s definitely wrong with him. “Me too. I think I’ll just get something to eat.”

Pieck crooks an eyebrow at them. “Suit yourselves,” and then she gets lost in the sea of people.

Annie turns towards Armin and grabs his arm. “Are you alright?”

He forces a smile, and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing.”

Annie’s frown only deepens. Does he think she’s oblivious? “Don’t lie to me, you’re green all over.”

He holds her eye for a second. Then he sighs, and his smile falters. “It’s just that I get nauseous from heights,” he admits. Annie’s face softens. “And this was quite a ride. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” he hurries to add.

Annie shakes her head a little. “I can’t not worry about you, silly. Believe it or not, I do care about you.” His eyes widen the slightest bit, and color creeps into his face. She pecks his cheek, then lets his arm go only to take his hand in hers. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

They do find a bench in a quieter alley to the side. She makes sure he’s okay, then leaves to get him some water.

When she makes it back, Armin greets her with a strained smile, though he’s starting to get color back into his face. He takes a sip of water and leans forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and dropping his head. Annie rubs his back in circular motions, and he seems to relax into her touch.

“I’m fine, really,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very convincing.

Annie shakes her head. “Why did you agree to riding the wheel if it makes you nauseous anyway?”

Armin scoffs a little– if at her or himself, she’s not sure. He raises his head just enough to meet her eyes. “Everyone was so excited about it,” he says. “I didn’t want to be a wet blanket and ruin their fun.”

“I could have stayed down with you while they rode the Wheel, you know,” she says, softer this time. “You could have said something.”

Annie feels her lips pull up, for this is just like him– always looking out for everyone else, barely giving himself any attention.

“Thank you,” is all he says.

He straightens his back, sitting upright, and smiles at her. “But I think I’ll survive. I did have fun, you know.”

Annie smiles, letting her hand wonder until it finds his. She interlocks her fingers with his, dragging her thumb over the back of his hand. Armin drops his head on her shoulder and lets his eyes close, squeezing her fingers gently. She lets her chin rest on top of his head, and brings his other hand up, brushing her fingers through his hair in lazy motions. 

She’s not sure how much time passes of them just sitting there, letting the buzz of the festival wash over them. Until her phone buzzes in her pocket. 

She fishes it out, only to find Pieck has shared her location– Jean and her found that concert after all. Armin straightens up then, and she immediately misses the weight of his head on her shoulder. But he looks better, he’s got his color back in his face. 

“We can go if you want.”

“Are you feeling better?”

He hums, grazing her knuckles with his thumb. “I do.” He pecks her cheek. “Thank you.”

They stand to leave, but before she even opens Pieck’s link, a little something catches her eyes. She grabs Armin’s hand, dragging him after herself until they're standing in front of the Tin Can Shack. Colorful prizes of all kinds are displayed for everyone to see. Armin raises an eyebrow at her, an amused smile growing in his lips. Her eyes narrow.

“I wanna try this,” she says, squeezing his hand. 

He hums lightly, dragging his thumb across her knuckles. 

The line thins rather fast, and in no time there’s only one pair left before them– a guy desperately trying to make his last two shots worthwhile, and a girl in a polka dress, looking like she’s trying her absolute best not to laugh her ass off. Eventually, his last shot proves futile, for it flies right over the pyramid of tins. He throws his arms in the air, letting a disappointed groan out as the vendor offers empty apologies. But his girlfriend takes his hand all the same, placing a kiss on his cheek before dragging him away.

Annie finds herself smiling at the scene, her eyes following the two as they get lost amidst the crowd. They look adorable, walking away hand in hand, him trying to defend himself for not winning her a plushie and her just laughing it off. 

But the vendor’s clearing his throat takes her out of her haze. Annie snaps her head towards him, finding the middle aged man grinning widely at her, wrinkles forming around his grey eyes. 

She clears her throat. “How much for a round?”

He tells them the price, which is ten dollars– too much for only three shots, in her opinion, but she doesn’t word it out loud. 

Armin drops her hand, fishing his wallet out. 

The man’s grin boardens. “Trying to impress your girlfriend, huh?” His tone isn’t malicious, but it lacks the feigning casualty of small talk too.

Armin laughs awkwardly, fumbling with his wallet for a second. But before he gets the chance to say anything, Annie clears her throat. She brings her hand to his arm, stopping him.

“It’s quite the opposite, actually,” she says, handing the vendor a crumbled up bill she finds in her pocket. 

The man looks at her a little puzzled. Armin’s gaze is warm when he meets her eyes, his lips pulling up the tiniest bit. He searches her eyes for a moment, as if slowly understanding what she’s on about, then drops his wallet back in his pocket. The vendor raises an eyebrow, moving his gaze from one to the other, before eventually taking her money and handing her three bags. He steps to the side, letting her get a better look at the pyramid of tins.

Armin squeezes her arm, his smile wide when she turns to face him.

“You can do this, Annie!”

Her face warms. But before she gets to say anything, he pecks her cheek, a short, sweet kiss. Warmth takes over her entire being then, and her heart almost melts in her chest. She closes her eyes for only a moment, trying to collect herself, then opens them again, focusing on the target in front of her. Armin takes a step back, giving her space to perform her shenanigans. 

She stretches her arm, eyeing the prize she wants– sitting gingerly at the top of the pile, its orange peak angled towards her. Then she averts her gaze back to the pyramid of tins, takes a breath in, and throws the first bag. 

Turns out, she doesn’t even need all the bags– the pyramid comes tumbling down after just two throws. Cheers erupt from around her, and when she looks around, she finds that a handful of people have gathered around, watching her endeavors. Armin is next to her in an instant, showering her in congratulations, engulfing her in his arms and peppering her face in kisses, making her skin warm. The vendor stares at her in awe for a minute. 

He shakes his head, finding a smile again. “What shall be your prize, then?”

She points to the plushie at the top, the sole reason she’s here in the first place. “That one.”

Armin’s eyes widen slightly when the vendor takes it down, then laughs shortly. “This is what you wanted?”

A smile pulls on her lips as she retrieves the duck plushie. She thanks the man and bids her goodbye, then takes hold of Armin’s hand again. 

“I didn’t win it for myself,” she says as they walk away from the vendor. She holds it out for him, and his eyes go wide, his mouth dropping a little as if he wanted to say something. But no words come out. He stops walking, staring at her with big eyes. Annie scoffs, pushing it into his arms. “I won it for you, silly.”

He blinks at her, once, twice, then looks down at the toy, taking it in. “But why?” he asks. 

A smile pulls on her lips. “It reminded me of you.”

Armin stares at the duck plushie a minute more, his face slowly softening, a smile blossoming onto his lips. When he looks up at her again, his eyes are a little glassy, but his smile is ever growing. 

“Thank you,” he says, and his voice is low.

Annie steps closer to him, the tip of her shoes touching his. She wraps her arms around his neck, dumping her nose against his. “You’re welcome.” 

She raises on her tippy toes, placing a kiss to his mouth, short and sweet. 

When she draws away, his face is flushed, lips parted slightly as if he were waiting for more. She brushes the hair out of his forehead, then pecks his lips again. His hand finds her side, bringing her closer to him. But the plushie in his arm makes it a bit difficult, and they part ways laughing awkwardly. 

“I wanted you to have something to remember me by when the summer is over,” she says, looking down at the plushie. 

A wave of sadness washes over her, if only briefly. The end of the summer, once such a distant concept, is now dragging closer and closer, and she fears she’s not ready for it.

By the look on his face, neither is Armin, for his brows furrow. He averts his eyes for a second, biting his lip, and Annie finds herself following his gaze. He meets her eye again, but this time there is something else in his gaze, a sort of bitterness she cannot explain. Annie frowns, not understanding where this is coming from. She tilts her head, willing him to speak, to just tell her what’s bothering him.

“About that,” he starts, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish his train of thought.

Sasha emerges from the crowd, all jumpy and smiley. “Gotcha!” she yells, almost jumping on their backs. Connie is trailing behind her, equally beaming. 

Annie’s arms fall  from around his shoulders, and Armin takes a step backwards, rubbing the back of his neck. He offers her a sort of apologetic look, though she doesn’t necessarily get why. 

Before she knows it, Sasha jumps on her back, making her jump a little. 

“We looked everywhere for y’all!” she exclaims, tightening her arms around Annie’s shoulders. Annie lets out an awkward laugh, though she doesn’t exactly mind. “Everyone was gone when we made it back to the Wheel!”

“Yeah, we parted ways,” Annie says, patting Sasha’s arm. The girl gets off her at last. “I’m pretty sure they went to that concert,” she offers with a shrug.

Sasha hums, taking her phone out to check the group chat for the location. But Connie is not with them, staring at the plushie in Armin’s arms. A grin forms on his face. 

“What, you won your girlfriend a plushie?” he teases. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Arlert.”

Armin blushes, stuttering over his words, and Annie scoffs, rolling her eyes a little. 

“Actually, she won it for me,” he mutters, staring at his shoes. 

Annie buries her hands in her pockets, a proud smile finding its way to her lips.

Connie raises an eyebrow. Sasha looks up from her phone with a shit eating grin on her lips. “So you guys are into switching roles?” 

Connie howls out a laugh. Armin’s eyes widen slightly, his complexion turning a deep shade of red. He looks at Annie as if asking for help.

Annie rolls her eyes, though her own face is starting to catch on fire. 

“Oh, fuck off.”

[dude-why-3]

July Prompts 🌴

Word prompts to use for doodling or writing

summer kiss

cocktail

pineapple

vacation

camera

message in a bottle

lemonade stand

summer dress

beach

road trip

football game

airy

lifeguard

childhood

ice tea

sun screen

treasure hunt

pool party

fireflies

concert

succulents

pink skies

underwater

bubbles

flower field

hurricane

cherries

dancing in the rain

sun burn

rooftop

camping

[dude-why-3]

Reblog if your art project has not, does not, and never will make use of generative ai at any point in your creative process.

[dude-why-3]

Wip Wednesday!!

[dude-why-3]

[dude-why-3]

[dude-why-3]

WIP Wednesday!!

[dude-why-3]

Who painted the sky?

Chapter 24: Bennie and the Jets

Annie yawns again. She folds her arms on top of the table and buries her face in them, letting her eyes close for a moment.

They’ve been waiting for the kids to get there for what feels like an eternity. The sun is starting to burn her back, and the birds’ chirping, as relaxing as it might have been at first, is getting annoying. 

Something hits her foot. She snaps her head up just in time to see Dexter retrieve the ball from her feet and run back to Pieck, his tail wiggling excitedly.

The girl squats down, getting the bottom of her brown skirt in the dirt. She scratches the puppy’s head, a smile growing on her face. 

“Good boy!” 

She proceeds to throw the ball again, and Dexter runs after it as if it were his life’s entire purpose. 

Pieck straightens up and stretches her back. Annie can’t help but let her eyes linger on her– her orange shirt is no longer as saggy as a few weeks ago, and her black circles have shrinked noticeably. 

She must've felt her eyes on her, for she offers a quick smile.

“He's getting bigger.”

Annie stares at her for a second, the words not really registering. She blinks once, twice, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly.

Pieck plops on the bench in front of her. “Dexter, I mean. He's been getting bigger. He's starting to chew everything, too.”

Annie hums, nodding her head the slightest bit. He has been chewing on their shoes for the past week, so much so that Connie's sneakers got so worn out that he had to get new ones. Marie warned that, if the puppy even dares touch her furniture, he’s no longer welcome in the house. He can stay outside, she said, where all the other dogs are.

Dexter comes back with the ball between his teeth. He deposits it by the bench’s foot and sits, looking up at them with the biggest eyes, wiggling his tail back and forth.

Pieck picks it up and throws it again, giggling as the puppy runs after it without a second thought. Annie’s lips pull into a smile as she follows the puppy stroll behind the toy, in no particular rush to catch up to it. The ball rolls on the ground until it bumps into a pair of worn out shoes that’s all too familiar to her. Her gaze shifts higher as if under a spell, as if the sight of his face was everything she ever needed, barely processing the pitch of lemonade or the colorful plastic cups in his hands. The smile on his face though– that, she was seeking. She hasn’t seen it in a solid twenty minutes and was starting to miss it. 

Flashes of their previous endeavors flash before her eyes in bits and pieces. That smile of his, always so comforting, always waiting for her to open her eyes, yet only growing once she’d mirror it. As if a mere glance of hers was enough to make him happier. 

Armin kicks the ball right back. Dexter barks in protest, but runs after it nonetheless, his ears flopping with the wind. 

“Are the others not back yet?” he inquires as he sets his treasures on the table.

Annie clicks her tongue, taking the cup of lemonade he hands her. It’s sweet and cold, perfect for such a summer day.

“Sasha and Connie haven’t returned yet. Jean is probably taking a beauty nap.” Pieck scowls at her lemonade, but downs it anyway. “And I honestly don’t even want to think about what Hitch and Reiner are getting up to.”

Annie rolls her eyes, sipping on her lemonade. Armin scoffs, but agrees with Pieck that he’d rather protect his peace. Then he finally sits down next to Annie, his knee brushing against hers, making her skin tingle the slightest bit.

Dexter soon comes back and scatters under the table, collapsing by their feet. 

Annie leans over the table again, resting her head on top of her folded arms. But her eyes don’t leave Armin as he falls into casual conversation with Pieck– a conversation she cannot be bothered to even pay attention to, let alone participate in. For she’s way too endorsed in the way the sun hits his face just at the right angle, making his hair look more golden, and the faint tan lines his glasses have left on his complexion. 

He must have sensed her stare, for he steals a glance at her, his lips twitching up the tiniest bit. Annie holds his gaze for a moment, searching for God knows what. But then his hand settles on her thigh, almost making her jump. And she curses herself for choosing shorts this morning, because his fingertips leave burning trails behind them as he draws patterns on her skin.

The front door snaps open, revealing an absolutely beaming Hitch. Her hair is perfectly curled and her camp shirt spotless, tucked into a white miniskirt. Reiner is trailing behind her, looking equally pleased.

“We got it!” she beams, skipping over to their table. 

Annie narrows her eyes. Armin’s touch disappears, leaving her feeling rather disappointed. But she has no time to think about it, as Hitch claims monopoly over the lemonade pitch.

“Got what?”

“Well, we haven’t exactly gotten it yet,” says Reiner as he sits down. 

He takes out his cigarettes and lights one up, letting the smoke float away as they all look at him expectantly. Pieck scowls and waves the smoke out of her face. Hitch’s grin only grows.

“We got a viewing for an apartment.” 

“We diiiid!�� Hitch throws her arms around his neck, beaming with joy. He leans his head back against her shoulder, his own smile growing.

“That’s so great,” Armin chimes in. “Good for you, guys!”

“Congrats,” Annie adds. She can’t help but feel happy for them. They’ve been talking about it all summer, and they do look genuinely excited about it.

“Again, it’s not ours yet, we’re meeting with the landlord next month,” Hitch says, though her excitement is obvious in her voice. “But we’re quite optimistic about it.”

“You can’t just say that and not show us the place,” Pieck muses.

“Right!” 

Hitch takes her designated seat on Reiner’s lap, crossing her legs. His arm circles her waist for support as she looks through her phone. She angles her phone towards the three of them, and they huddle together to get a better look as Hitch scrolls through the pictures. The place is rather small, though she supposes it’s just right for the two of them. It looks clean, and it somehow already fits Hitch’s personality. Though the door frames look a little low for Reiner to be able to go from one room to another without having to crouch down.

“I call shotgun for the couch,” says Armin, a playful smile playing on his lips.

“You’re always welcome,” Reiner says, breaking into a smile himself. He looks around the bunch of them, and if she didn’t know him better she’d say there are tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. “You all are.”

Hitch rolls her eyes, though her smile gives her away. 

“Aw, look at you guys, being adults and all!” Pieck jokes, slapping Reiner’s back just as he’s taking a drag of his cigarette. 

He coughs out the smoke, scowling at her.

Annie finds herself smiling at their shenanigans. It downs on her then, that once the summer is over, she’s going to miss them and their antics. 

But before she gets the chance to dwell on it, a watermelon is slapped on the table right in front of her. 

She stares at it for a second, the conversation simmering down. She blinks once, twice, to make sure it’s not just the product of her imagination, but then Sasha’s voice confirms that she is, in fact, staring at an actual watermelon. 

“We got it!”

When she looks up, she’s met with Sasha and Connie’s shit eating grins. They’re both wearing their orange camp shirts and matching khakis. Jean trails behind them with a comically big knife in his hand, his hair disheveled as if he’s just woken up from a nap. Which he might have.

“You got a watermelon,” Annie says, raising an eyebrow at them.

“From the kitchen,” Pieck adds, cutting the air with her hand.

Connie nods thoroughly. “Yes.”

“Yes.”

“So you stole from the cook.”

“Again,” adds Annie, remembering the chicken soup incident. The little thieves.

Sasha rolls her eyes. “We borrowed it.”

“You know, borrowing implies actually giving the thing back once you’re done with it,” Armin chimes in.

“We can give the peel back.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “Will you stop whining and let me cut the damn thing up?”

No one has any complaints. Truth be told, Annie was carving a little sweet treat– and what better treat for the middle of the summer than a watermelon. So Jean cuts it up, and they all share the delicious fruit until there’s nothing but the skin left. 

 “You absolute bastards!”

Annie snaps her head up, only to be met with the angry figure of a tanned, freckled girl who looks no older than the bunch of them, her dark hair tied in a low ponytail. She wears a scowl so angry that Annie feels the color drain from her face. She looks back at the table, all that’s left from the watermelon being the skin scattered around the table, and then back up at the girl approaching.

“Why the fuck do you keep stealing my damn food? That was for the children!” 

“Well the children aren’t here, now, are they, Ymir?” Connie shouts back, a smug grin on his face.

Somehow, the girl’s scowl only deepens.

“When I fuckin’ catch you, Springer– wait, what do you mean they’re not here?” She checks her watch, her expression shifting from one of anger to that of confusion. “They were supposed to be here an hour ago. They’re scheduled for lunch right now.”

Annie narrows her eyes at Ymir, at her ripped jeans and dirty shirt, that was once the same shade of orange as hers. Who is this girl? And why does she seem so familiar with their schedule?

“That’s the cook,” Armin mutters in her ear, his breath tickling her ear. 

Her scowl only deepens. “Wait, you’re the one who’s been burning our eggs all summer?”

Ymir stops in her tracks for a moment. She looks Annie up and down, then her scowl turns into a grin. “I have my bad days,” she says with a shrug. “You are the ones who keep stealing my fucking food.”

Sasha raises her hands above her head. Jean scowls at her antics. “It was just two times, today included.”

“It fucked up my entire plan!”

“Well, sorry, I needed to make my sick friend soup to cure him!” she gestures towards Armin.

His cheeks go pink, and he raises a sheepish hand in a weak wave. “Hi.”

Ymir scans him up and down, raising a judging eyebrow. Armin basically shrinks, hiding behind Annie’s back, the intensity of the cook’s stare too much even for him.

“I could have made your damn soup,” she barks through gritted teeth. “That way, the kids might have actually had some better diet.”

“I’ll know to ask next time.”

Ymir rolls her eyes, muttering a tight whatever under her breath. She plops on the bench next to Reiner and reaches for his cigarettes. 

“May I?” 

But she doesn’t wait for an answer, for she takes a cigarette out and lights it up before the blond gets the chance to say anything. She takes a drag and lets the smoke out in big clouds. Pieck scowls and waves it out of her face, but when the brunette does it a second time, she full on stands up and sits on the other bench, next to Annie, scowling at the cook with resentment. 

“At least save me the peels,” Ymir says, scanning the skins thoroughly. “Some good jam could come out of this.”

Annie raises an eyebrow at her. “Watermelon-skin jam?”

“Yeah, it’s a thing. I didn’t believe it either at first, until my…” she stops for a second as if reconsidering her wording, then takes another drag of her cigarette, “until my idiot girlfriend showed me how it’s done.”

Hitch raises an eyebrow at her. “You don’t seem so happy about that,” she notes, stealing a drag from Reiner’s cigarette.

The cook scoffs thoroughly. “She’s a fucking idiot,” she spits. “But for whatever reason I can’t seem to get over her.” She takes another drag and lets the smoke out slowly. She shakes her head slightly, her expression softening the tiniest bit. “I do love her, you know, and her stupid watermelon jam.”

Silence falls over them then, the kind that usually finds its way in conversations with strangers. 

“Where are the kids anyway?”

As if on cue, the hosts storm out of the main building, both in their camp shirts, both wearing serious expressions. Marie has her hair tied in a low bun, her glasses taking up most of her face, and Hannah– well. In the less than twenty four hours since Annie’s last seen her, Hannah has chopped her hair to shoulder length, and dyed it a light shade of purple. Had she not been in uniform, wearing a name badge and trailing behind her partner as she usually does, she wouldn’t have recognized her at all. 

She switches her gaze across the group as if analysing them thoroughly. Hitch climbs off Reiner’s lap, sitting beside him instead, and attempts to palm the cigarettes in order to hide them from view. Though the hosts don’t seem to care. Hannah crosses her arms across her chest, tilting her head to the side slightly. 

“We have news,” Marie says, stopping right in front of them. 

Annie narrows her eyes at the two of them. This must be about the kids, she thinks, it must be. Why else would the hosts look so grim? But the longer they postpone breaking the news, the more Annie worries that something must have happened to them. The roads here are slippery, wild animals are quite literally roaming the streets and highways. Her heart sinks into her stomach, and her mind takes her to the most terrifying places. 

“So our kids got lost,” Hannah says at last.

Annie feels a weight lifting off her chest. 

“How could they get lost?” Pieck asks, narrowing her eyes.

Marie scoffs, exchanging a look with Hannah, who rolls her eyes profusely. “Apparently there are two sites with the same name,” the latter says. 

Hitch raises an eyebrow. “And they got the wrong one?”

“Yeah.”

Annie presses her lips together, staring at the hosts in disbelief. Silence falls over the bunch of them again, only to be broken by Sasha’s giggles.

“Well, that’s just stupid,” says Ymir, putting her cigarette out. 

Marie sighs and shakes her head, though she ultimately agrees. 

“We’ll probably rename the place at some point.”

“Maybe next year,” says Hannah. “We have quite a lot to take care of before that.”

Marie hums in agreement, exchanging a look with her co-host. The tiniest of smiles sneaks its way onto her lips, and her eyes seem to soften, if only briefly.

“Wait, how far is this other site?” asks Hitch, her eyes narrowed.

Hannah clicks her tongue. “Four hundred kilometers.”

Annie finds herself blinking in disbelief at the host. “That's at least five hours.”

“Yep.” Hannah moves her weight from one leg to the other and pinches the bridge of her nose. “So all of today's activities will be delayed. We'll hold the ceremony when they get here and you guys can show them around, but that's it.”

Annie presses her lips together. That messes with their schedule big time, pushing them by at least a day. But that's an issue for later.

Ymir clears her throat. “Lunch is ready if you guys want to eat before they get here.”

Sasha jumps to her feet, thrusting her fist into the air. “Sold!”

Connie runs after her, yelling for her to save him some of the food too, and Jean soon scatters behind them, yelling for them to wait up. Ymir rolls her eyes, though a small smile plays on her lips as she stands and follows the bunch of them. One by one, the volunteers each jump to their feet and head for the cafeteria. 

But as Annie’s about to follow after them, Hitch grabs her hand. She turns back to her roommate with a raised eyebrow. Hitch smiles sheepishly.

Annie furrows her brows.

“Do you mind if I have the room to myself tonight?”

“I mean, this calls for a celebration,” her roommate coos, nodding slightly towards Reiner, who’s leisurely walking away. 

And that’s when the shoe drops for Annie. She scoffs slightly, shaking her head a little at Hitch, whose face is slowly picking up color.

“Of course.” She bumps her shoulder slightly. “Have fun.”

Turns out, Ymir hasn’t burnt their food this time around. They end up lurking around the canteen the entire afternoon, rethinking their plan and adjusting their schedule.

When the kids get there, they’re way too tired to do anything, barely paying attention to Hannah’s welcoming speech or Marie’s rules for the week. Annie’s pretty sure her and Armin’s group doesn’t hear half the things they say, so they call it a night early. 

“That was, by far, the quickest welcoming ceremony,” Armin says as they head for the Big House. 

The sun has long set, leaving room for the moon to work its magic, and the cicadas are out like they've never been, their song making it difficult for her to hear him.

They fall into a steady step, walking side by side. Her hand bumps into his, so she takes a hold of it before he gets a chance to apologize and draw it away.

“It really was,” she agrees.

Annie intertwines her fingers with his, swinging their hands slightly through the air . 

“Can I stay over tonight?” 

Armin’s eyes widen slightly, though his smile only boardens.

“Sure, yeah. I’d love that.” He squeezes her hand a bit. “What do you wanna do?”

Annie wiggles her eyebrows, making him huff out a laugh. “I have a couple ideas.”

“Well,” he pulls on the door and keeps it open for her, “I’m down for anything.”

Annie smiles to herself as she ascends up the stairs. She knew that much. 

“But we probably shouldn’t stay up very late,” she reasons. “We start early tomorrow.”

Armin hums behind her. 

They reach their floor and, when Annie turns to face him, his eyes are sparkling, a smile playing on his lips. He steps closer to her, the tips of his shoes touching hers. His hands find their way to her waist, pulling her closer.  

“How about a movie?”

Annie tilts her head to the side, her lips arching up. Her chest feels warm, as it usually does around him. She pecks his lips, lingering millimeters from there for a second more, but ultimately draws away.

“Let me just get my pajamas.”

When she makes it to his room a couple minutes later, in her yellow donut pjs and slippers, she finds Armin sitting criss-crossed on his bed, his laptop already open in front of him. He’s turned off the big light, leaving only the fairy lights on. 

Armin snaps his head up when he hears the door click closed, welcoming her with a gentle smile that makes her heart melt in her chest. He’s changed out of his camp uniform and into a shirt she hasn’t seen before, a sage green one with “leaf me alone, I’m bushed!” written in big letters on the front. She scoffs at it, though she must admit it does him justice, clinging to his arms just right. 

“What do you wanna watch?”

Annie climbs next to him, stealing a glance at his screen. But she doesn’t let her eyes linger there, for she has more important matters to attend to right now. Like his lips, that she’s barely tasted today. 

She cups his face in her palms and brings it closer to her own. His eyes are wide open when she meets them, though they glisten with something she could not name, but is getting better at recognising. Her eyes flicker down almost instinctively, studying his lips momentarily before finally capturing them with her own.

“How about one of your rom-coms?” she asks between kisses.

Armin smiles against her lips, his hand finding its way to the small of her back. “Sure.” He kisses her again, pulling her closer, closer, closer, until even the clothes between them seem like too much of a barrier. But it’s short lived. 

“Have you watched 27 Dresses?”

She thinks he might actually throw a fit when the answer is negative. He argues it’s one of the best movies out there and wastes no time in streaming it for her. She does end up liking it, although the acting seems a little exaggerated at times. It’s a fun little watch. And when Bennie and the Jets comes up, she finds herself humming along. 

Armin gives her a cheeky smile, his eyes glistening with the beginning of an idea. He scrambles to his feet, bringing her with him, amidst her yelp of surprise. She finds herself standing face to face with him as he sings along, silly dancing to the song. 

“Your lyrics are worse than theirs!”

He scoffs, though he doesn’t stop dancing. “Yeah, well, you sing if you think you know the lyrics better!”

Annie raises an eyebrow. She’s not one to back down from a challenge, he must know that much by now. 

“Say, Candy and Ronnie, and some guy named Jet, but they're so spaced out.”

Armin huffs out a laugh, and Annie finds it hard not to laugh herself, extremely aware of how off key she sounds. She must be more off than those on the screen.

But he joins in regardless, drumming in the air.

“Be-Be-Bennie and the Jets!”

His voice sounds so affected when the next verse hits that Annie bends over laughing, holding her stomach.

“Oh but they're weird and wonderful! Oh Bennie she's really cool!” 

She didn’t know he could hit such high notes.

“She’s got electric boots!”

He thrusts his fist forward as if holding a microphone up to her mouth, his grin only growing. 

“And Mohair shoes!”

“You know I read it like a magazine!”

Annie throws her head back when she laughs, tears starting to brim in the corner of her eyes. 

He takes her hand in his and spins her around for whatever reason, though the song doesn’t necessarily call for it. She thinks he might do it again, had godforsaken Jane not laughed so loud. 

When Jane kisses Kevin on screen, Armin's hands find her waist again, pulling her closer in one swift move. Annie lets a huff of surprise out and her eyes widen, yet she wraps her arms around his shoulders all the same. Armin kisses her then, his lips moving against hers with such fervour. His hand sneaks up to her face, tilting it up the tiniest bit. She parts her lips, allowing him better access, and she sighs when his tongue caresses hers, dragging against it in a slow, delicious motion, making her entire body warm.

Before she knows it, her back is pressed against the matters, Armin’s hands toying with the hem of her tee as he breaks away for air. His face is flushed deliciously, and he's panting as if he were struggling to catch his breath. 

Annie props herself up on her elbows, pecking his lips shortly, before leaning over to shut the laptop down and set it aside. She liked the movie, but she has more important matters at her hands. Like getting those annoying shirts off.

She pecks his lips again, letting her hands rest on his shoulders. “I want to be on top this time.”

Armin scoffs, though he does comply. If anything, he seems as eager as she is, wasting no time in disposing of all of those annoying layers of clothing between them.

He sits back, his hands settling on her hips, and lets her take the lead. He lets her make a mess of him, and his perfect hair, and his perfect skin. He lets her scatter sloppy kisses all over his face and his neck and his chest, his touch never leaving her. His hands travel from her hips to her back and up her sides, tracing her body in such delicious ways that she can’t help but press against him, leaning into his touch in hopes of getting more. Her name is ever on the top of his lips as she rolls her hips against his, each little ministration earning her another little sound. Her movements become more erratic as pressure starts building into her lower abdomen. Armin’s hand sneaks between their bodies and she sighs into his skin as he finds that sweet spot. She captures his lips then, and their lips dance together as they come undone.

Her chest is still heaving when she collapses next to him. Annie curls up under the blankets as Armin disposes of the condom. He soon joins her again, laying on his side next to her. His hand settles on her hip, drawing slow patterns on her skin, eliciting a little sigh from her. He brushes the hair out of her face, places a kiss on her forehead, and she lets her eyes close, basking in his warmth and his proximity. A comforting kind of silence falls between them.

Until Armin breaks it. “I like sleeping with you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, a childish kind of innocence behind it.

Annie's eyes snap open. Her body heats up at the statement, her heart skipping a beat. She finds him looking back at her with a gentle smile on his face, and for a second she thinks she's misheard him.

“I figured that much,” she says when he doesn't provide any further explanation. 

Pink creeps into his cheeks, his eyes widening the tiniest bit as he seems to realise what he's just said.

“No, I mean, literally sleeping with you,” he blabbers. Annie arches an eyebrow at him, the corners of her lips pulling up. “Sleeping next to you, sharing a bed. I like that a lot.”

Her expression softens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He lets his hand fall in the space between them. “It's comforting, having you here. You’re comforting.”

Annie scoffs, though her face heats up. “I've been called many things in my life, but comforting is not one of them.”

Armin’s expression softens. “Well, you are. I feel much more at peace when you're next to me.”

Annie hums and presses her lips together, unsure of what to say. Warmth overtakes her entire being again, and her heart melts like it usually does when Armin showers her with such words. She lets her hand rest next to his, her pinky touching his, and she smiles when he brushes it against it.

She smiles, fully intertwining their fingers, and finally finds it in herself to look up at him, only to find his eyes already on her, filled with such love.

“I guess the feeling is mutual.”

[dude-why-3]

Six Sentence Sunday

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Six Sentence Sunday:

[dude-why-3]

Write for yourself first. Write what you like and be in love with what you create. Readers who will love it as well will just follow naturally.

[dude-why-3]

Who painted the sky? Chapter 23: Picture Perfect

“Listen,” Sasha starts, again, “I simply do not think that Dexter, who is a boy, would appreciate a pink collar.”

Annie holds back a yawn. She buries her hands in the pockets of her denim shorts and moves her weight from one leg to another. She should probably wash her sneakers– they were white when she left home, and have gotten gradually dirtier over the summer, until they reached this muddy color.

Connie and Sasha have been standing in the middle of the pet store for what feels like an eternity, arguing over puppy stuff, and it’s starting to get old. Even the guy behind the register seems to be getting a little annoyed.

Connie rolls his eyes so far back that she wonders if they could go any further. “He is a dog,” he says, gesturing with the pink collar. “He does not care for colors.”

Armin clears his throat a little, just enough to grab their attention. Annie tilts her head in his direction. He’s wearing the green graphic tee he’s lent her the other night– and she can’t help but admire how well it fits him. Her face warms up the tiniest bit, her mind taking her back to their previous endeavors. She absentmindedly brings her hand up to her neck– which Hitch has been kind enough to cover up for her. Yet she can still feel Armin’s touch on her skin.

“I don’t think he can even see colors,” he says with a shrug.

“Thank you!”

Sasha throws her hands in the air. “Who’s side are you on?!”

Armin holds his hands up as if surrendering.

“Have you decided on a collar yet?” comes Hitch’s voice.

She walks over to them with two metal bowls in her hands, followed closely by Reiner, who’s carrying a comically large bag of dog food.

“We would have if Sasha hadn’t rejected all of my suggestions!”

“It’s not my fault you have stupid suggestions!”

“Which one of you is taking Dexter home when the summer’s over, anyway?” asks Armin, ever the mediator.

The two widen their eyes as if they have never even thought about that. They exchange a look, then glance back at Armin. Sasha shrugs helplessly.

“We haven’t decided yet,” says Connie, lowering the collar.

Hitch scoffs at their antics, rolling her eyes.

Armin hums. “Well, then, get both,” he suggests. “And whoever takes him home gets to keep their chosen collar.”

Connie and Sasha finally agree, and they end up getting both of the collars, as well as a leash.

“I think you should have him, by the way,” Sasha says as they exit the shop.

Connie narrows his eyes, a little confused by her sudden change of heart. “I mean, me too, but why?”

Sasha shrugs. She’s the first one to set foot on the escalator, followed closely by Connie. Hitch takes her phone out as she follows them up, mumbling something about tracking Jean and Pieck down– they had been utterly uninterested in shopping and resigned themselves to taking up a table in the food court.

“I don’t think my father would allow it, Kaia’s allergic,” Sasha shrugs. “And your yard is bigger than mine.”

Hitch looks up from her phone. “They found a table between Wendy’s and Mr. Krabs’,” she announces, slipping her phone back in her purse.

Reiner lowers the bag onto the stairs, exhaling loudly, only to pick it up again as they step off the escalators. “Where even is that?”

But Annie doesn’t catch the rest of their conversation, for a little something in the window of a corner shop catches her attention. She approaches the shop carefully, bending down to get a better look, and narrows her eyes.

The little camera shines dimly in the excessive artificial light, looking very tempting. Annie tilts her head to the side, analyzing it thoroughly, trying to decide on whether it would be worth it or not. She’s found that she actually enjoys photography these past few weeks. She figured she might as well get her own camera, too, so she could continue with this newfound hobby after camp as well.

It’s a gray Akasa model, so small it could fit into her pocket. But the specifications look rather promising, and, at under 200 bucks, she figures that it’d be a shame not to get it. So, she checks to make sure the others are still in sight– they are, strolling across the hall leisurely. They don’t even seem to have noticed her departure. She takes one more look at the specifications, making sure she remembers the full name– which is a mouthful, really, but she does manage to spit it out in full to the ginger behind the register. They hand her her camera in a paper bag, and let her know that she has guarantee insurance for the next two years.

Which is more than perfect. She’s not really sure how much these things are supposed to last, but she figures that two years is a decent time for a guarantee. As she exits the store, she glances at the thing, and finds herself smiling at her newest acquisition.

It will be so cool, she thinks, having her own camera. She could take pictures of anything, to her heart’s desire. Everything she’d ever deem memorable, she could just–

But a familiar voice jolts her out of her thoughts.

“You fell behind,” Armin says.

When she looks up, she finds him right in front of her, a soft smile adorning his lips. His backpack is effortlessly swung over one of his shoulders.

“Yeah, well…” she holds her bag up, and he raises a curious eyebrow. “I got a camera.”

Armin’s eyes light up as if it was his own. “You did?” He leans over, curiously peeking at the contents of her bag, his smile only broadening. “That looks really cool,” he says. “Good for you, An.”

The mere use of that silly nickname makes her complexion warm up.

“Thanks,” she mutters. Then she narrows her eyes. “Wait, why did you fall behind?” She looks down the hall, in the general direction of where she last saw the others. Lo and behold, they’re nowhere to be seen anymore. “Where’s everyone?”

“They probably went ahead,” he shrugs, though she doesn’t miss the faint blush slowly creeping into his cheeks. Annie raises an eyebrow. He brings a hand up to the back of his neck, looking away. “I stopped by the drugstore,” he finally confesses.

Only now does Annie realize they're standing right by said drug store. She’s been so absorbed by her own finds that she has barely been paying attention to her surroundings. She frowns.

“What were you doing at the drugstore anyway? Are you sick or something?”

Armin chuckles awkwardly, still not looking at her.

“No, no, I just…” but he trails off, his lips pressing together.

Annie tilts her head at him, studying his expression for any hint at what might have determined him to just randomly go to the drugstore. He takes a long breath in and finally finds it in himself to look up at her, his cheeks dusted pink.

“I told you I’d take care of something the other night.”

Annie’s eyes widen in realization. He did say that, though it has completely slipped her mind.

“So… I did,” he says, though it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Annie’s face catches on fire. “Oh.”

“I mean,” he waves his hands in front of himself like a kid caught in the red, “we don’t have to do anything, I just–”

“Armin.” She raises on her tippy toes and cups his face in her hands, which shuts down his blabbering. A smile creeps into her lips, his expression absolutely adorable. “I already told you I’d like that, so stop overthinking it,” she says, in what she hopes is a reassuring voice. Though her face is burning up so much that she fears the fire alarms might go off any second now.

Armin’s face melts into a smile. His hands come up to her waist, ghosting over the fabric of her shirt.

“Okay.”

Annie smiles shortly, then pecks his lips, short and sweet.

“Let’s find the others,” she says, taking hold of his hand.

Her hand doesn't leave his as they wander around the mall, looking for the food court. They end up going in circles for a while, for they keep coming back to the drug store, before they finally ask around for the food court. Turns out, they're on the wrong floor.

As they set foot on the escalator, Annie turns back to face Armin. A smile forms on his face, and he squeezes her hand a little tighter.

“Should I come over tonight, then?” she asks.

His eyes widen for a second– her question must have been too sudden, too unexpected. Her face warms and she starts to take it back, her stomach knotting over itself, when Armin finally offers her a smile.

“Sure, I'd like that.”

Her face relaxes, and her stomach unknots itself. Armin leans over to peck her cheek.

“Unless the others have plans involving us, that’s it,” he adds, a note of amusement in his voice.

Annie hums, leaning into his touch. They do have the habit of making plans without asking, especially Hitch, though, at this point, it's become a given that they would.

They find the others at a table by the side of the food court, right between Wendy's and Mr. Krabs’. Sasha and Connie are filling Jean in on the collar drama, with Pieck attentively leaning over to eavesdrop on the conversation. Another crocheting project lays abandoned on the table right in front of her, a little yellow star. On the other side of the table, Hitch and Reiner are huddled together, leaning over a phone. There are three untouched trays of food in the middle of the table.

Annie lets go of Armin’s hand, though she misses his warmth immediately. Jean gives them a shit eating grin when they sit down, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“What took you so long?”

Annie places her paper bag on the table, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I got a camera.”

Hitch snaps her head up, arching an eyebrow at her. Reiner whistles lightly, standing up and leaning over the table, curiously trying to get a better look at the thing.

“You got a camera?”

“Yep.” She takes it out of the bag and folds the bag. Everyone huddles together to look at the unopened box.

“I didn’t know you were into photography,” says Connie, and she’s not sure if it's innocence seeping into his voice or ignorance.

Sasha slaps his shoulder. “She’s been taking pictures for us all summer, where have you been?”

“Well, yeah, but I thought that was just, like, her job,” he defends himself, rubbing his shoulder.

Annie raises an eyebrow. It is, in fact, part of her job, according to Hannah at least.

“She’s allowed to like things,” Pieck peeks in. Then she turns to Annie, a toothy smile on her face. “Have you tried it yet?”

She shakes her head, then gets to unpacking the thing. She feels everyone's eyes on her as she rips the tape on the box and slowly opens the box. Her fingers itch as she peels the paper wrap away, excitement taking over her. Slowly, she takes the camera in her hands and out of the box, holding it in her palms. It looks just like the one in the window, shining back at her. Though she didn’t expect it to be this light.

She turns it over in her hands, her lips pulling up in a smile, and–

Oh, the thing is charged. She turns it on, ushers everybody to get closer together, then turns the camera around, making sure to peek her head in the frame, and shoots a picture.

They huddle together around her, taking up her personal space, but she can’t help but smile at their excitement. They all lean over the camera to get a better look at the picture as Annie tries to figure out how to access the thing's history. Then the picture appears on the little display.

“That's some good resolution,” Armin comments. He’s still scanning the picture, a smile morphing onto his lips.

Annie hums in agreement, still looking at it herself, glazing over everyone’s faces.

“The lighting is a little off,” says Hitch, squinting at the picture.

It is true, the excessive light on the mall seems to have caused some trouble.

“The guy at the store did mention that,” Annie says, recalling their interaction. It was short, sure, but they did make sure to let her know about the thing's cons. But then again, what did she expect for 200 bucks?

“It's really cool though,” Pieck offers, sitting back down with a smile. “Let's not let the food get cold.”

The food is gone in less than twenty minutes, time in which nobody bothers to even attempt conversations– they’re too famished for that. Annie offers Sasha her extra fries, at the ginger's pleas, and gets her serving of pie in exchange.

They end up aimlessly walking around for a while, Hitch leading the herd– though she doesn’t seem to have any idea what she’s after, either. The plan they made in the morning only involved getting stuff for the puppy, and maybe grab lunch. Which they successfully did.

Someone pushes a flyer in her hands, making her start. She frowns, looking up from the colorful piece of paper to the kid handing it to her. He looks like a deer in the headlights, his green eyes blown wide, matching the Scout Sash around his neck. The thing is adorned with pins, and so is his uniform.

“Please come to our Summerfest. We have many fun attractions. And ponies,” he blurts out, as if reciting a poem, then scatters away.

Annie arches an eyebrow, scanning the piece of paper in her hand.

Pieck leans over her shoulder. “What's that?”

She hands her the flyer. “A summer festival, I guess.”

The girl takes it in her own hands, then calls out to the others, waving the piece of paper in the air.

“Guys, there’s a festival down at the beach next weekend!”

That’s enough to make everyone turn around and huddle around her to take a look at the flyer.

“We're going,” Hitch announces, nodding her head thoroughly.

“Good luck convincing Marie to let us,” says Reiner.

Hitch grins. “Oh, I will. Just you wait.”

“Absolutely not,” is Marie's answer when they bring it up to her over dinner.

“But whyyyy?” Hitch laments, pouting her lips.

Hannah rests her chin in her hand, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, Marie, why?”

The blonde turns towards her with furrowed eyebrows, as if quietly questioning her loyalty.

Annie pushes her plate aside and leans back into her chair, her eyes heavy. She yawns as she follows their little dispute.

“Who's gonna help us set everything up if they’re not here?” argues Marie.

She does have a point. They would have to come up with a plan for the week following their supposed escapade.

“We could come back Sunday afternoon and do it then,” Pieck chimes in. Hums of agreement echo around the room.

Annie tilts her head back, finding the ceiling a tad more interesting than their conversation. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go to the beach, she does– though she would not go to any extensive lengths for it to happen.

Armin leans over, just enough for her to catch a dampf of his scent, and steals some of her peas. She pushes the plate towards him.

Hannah hums. “That works for me.” She turns back to Marie and wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “You know, that means we'd have the weekend to ourselves.”

Marie raises an eyebrow, her complexion dusting pink, which makes Hannah grin.

Reiner snorts next to her, and Annie rolls her eyes, doing her best to keep her face from grimacing. It feels like watching parents try to flirt. It somehow feels worse than watching her father try to hit on a woman.

But it seems to do the trick for Marie. “Alright, you can go,” she finally gives in. Cheers erupt around the table. “But you have to come back by Sunday night.”

“We will!”

The two nod thoroughly. Marie stacks up their empty plates and disappears behind the corner. Hannah is about to leave as well, but then she turns around, her brows shooting up as if she's just remembered something crucial.

“Guys, I've been meaning to ask. Have you been using the canoes?”

Annie’s eyes widen, but she quickly fixes her face. Armin chokes on his peas next to her, breaking into strained coughs. Annie leans over to pat his back until he calms down, though she can’t help but wish the ground would open up and swallow them both.

Hitch throws them a glare, arching an eyebrow. She glances between the two of them, her eyes slowly widening, then smiles a cheeky smile, as if she has them all figured out. Annie scowls at her, her hand still on Armin’s back.

It is Jean who answers. “We haven’t. Why?”

“I found them a little askew this morning,” Hannah sighs. “And one of them was kinda muddy, so I thought y'all might have used it. I might have just forgotten to clean them on Wednesday,” she adds with a shrug. She thanks them anyway, then wishes them a good night and vanishes behind the corner, calling out for Marie to wait for her.

“That was a close call,” Armin mutters when they step out of the cafeteria.

Annie sighs and shakes her head. “I don't even want to imagine.”

They fall into a slow pace, falling a little behind the others on their little walk back to the Big House. Armin reaches for her hand, threading his fingers through her own. He caresses her knuckles lightly, slowly swinging their hands as they walk.

Dexter the puppy runs up to the bunch of them, tangling between their feet and barking loudly, his tail wiggling happily.

“Hey there, boy,” comes Sasha's cheerful voice. She kneels down to pet the puppy, who's more than happy for the attention, followed shortly by Connie.

It's enough distraction for them to sneak away without anyone noticing. Armin grips her hand tighter, pulling her with him as he swiftly glides inside. He throws a look over his shoulder, looking through the glass door briefly, if only to make sure that the others are still outside.

Before she knows it, Annie’s back is pressed against the door of Armin’s room as the thing clicks closed. His hands settle on her hips, and hers come up around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer, until his lips are mere centimeters from hers and their breaths mingle together. Until she feels his warmth burning her face and his hair tickling her forehead. Until his eyes pour into hers with so much intensity she fears he'll rip her soul out.

Armin brushes the hair out of her face and cups her cheek, smiling softly before finally capturing her lips with his own.

But it's short lived, for he soon parts away.

“Are you sure-”

“Shut up.”

His eyes widen slightly, though he doesn’t protest further. Annie raises on her tippy toes, just enough to reach his mouth again.

Annie's lips twitch into a smile as an idea morphs into her mind. She pushes him back, his grip on her hips only tightening, and they stumble together until they reach the bed, only parting ways again when he goes to sit down.

Armin cocks an eyebrow at her, his arm dropping by his side, and he tilts his head as if waiting to see her next move.

Annie climbs onto his lap, eliciting a little gasp from him. His eyes widen. She cups his face into her palms, holding it for a minute just so she could study it, just so she could hopefully imprint all of his features on the back of her eyes, so that, when the time comes, the longing wouldn’t hit her that hard.

Annie parts her lips, letting a little breath out, then very tentatively brings her face closer to his and connects their lips. And she takes her time with it, too, for she wants to remember every second of it.

Armin sighs against her lips before kissing her back, so sweet and gentle she fears she might melt into his arms. His hands reach for her hips again, drawing circles on the fabric of her shirt, making her skin burn and her heart race. She tilts his head back to deepen the kiss, and his hands tentatively travel up her sides, so slowly that it almost tickles. Annie leans into him more, starving for more of his touch.

Before she knows it, she's being pulled down as Armin’s back hits the mattress, her nose bumping against his. He breaks away, his laugh echoing through the room. Annie brings a hand to her nose and scoffs a little herself, her face growing warmer as embarrassment washes over her. She must have used too much force.

“Sorry about that.”

But his voice is nothing but kind when he speaks. “Don't worry about it.”

He pecks her cheek, then finds her lips again, crashing against them with so much thirst it takes her a little aback. She sighs against his lips, feeling his lips twitch up as if he were proud, before kissing him back with just as much force. His fingertips graze over the fabric of her bra, eliciting another little sound.

Before she knows it, she’s bare in front of him again, and he’s taking his shirt off between stolen kisses. Their clothes end up in a pile somewhere by the foot of the bed. Though, right now, as he's trailing kisses down her body, that’s the last thing she could worry about, for her mind is racing in thousands of directions.

A kiss to her chest elicits a small sigh. His knee between hers a whisper of his name. His hand cupping her breast ever so gently makes warmth overtake her entire being. When she entangles her fingers into his hair and pulls a little harder, she doesn’t think he could have said her name in a more alluring manner, for it sounds like a prayer on the lips of a preacher. A kiss to the shell of his ear earns her a little groan, followed by his hand slowly dragging down her torso until it reaches her navel, making her shiver.

But he hovers. He straightens his head just enough to hold her gaze, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Should I…?”

Annie huffs out a little laugh. She takes a breath in, turning her head to the side to avoid his gaze, for she fears it might burn her alive. “Yes, Armin, you should. Please.”

His smile boardens. “Okay.”

His hand wanders lower, and she sighs when he finally reaches between her legs and his fingers press into her flesh. She finds his lips again, kissing him between sighs and gasps as his fingers work away.

And when he finally sinks into her, her entire being could explode, for she doesn’t think she’s ever felt this way before. When his eyes meet hers as he slowly moves in and out, he might as well hold her soul in the palm of his hand. He peppers her neck with little kisses as she clings to him, holding on for dear life. And when he whispers her name, over and over again, she doubts she’s ever heard a sound more devine.

He takes her places she hasn’t been before. He teaches her languages she's never heard before, shows her feelings she hasn’t felt before. She doubts she’s ever felt more loved before, or that she'll ever feel this way again.

She’s still struggling to catch her breath when Armin lays next to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She can’t help but chuckle when his arms come around her middle, bringing her closer. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, runs her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching his scalp lightly.

“We should have done that much sooner,” she notes, after the flutter in her chest has calmed down.

Armin laughs lightly, nuzzling his face into her skin. “I take it you had a good time.”

“Of course I did.” She places a kiss on the top of his head. “You made sure of that.”

Armin hums lightly, and she feels his eyelids flutter close. His hold loosens around her, but the palm of his hand rests on the small of her back, making her feel warm. She presses her cheek into the crown of his head, continuing to run her fingers through his hair lazily. She notes it’s grown longer over the past few weeks.

After a while, she adds, “I hope you did, too,” her voice much lower, warmth creeping into her skin.

Armin straightens up a little, just enough for his face to come to her level. He holds her eyes, a smile spreading on his lips.

“I did.” He caresses her cheek lightly, brushing the hair out of her face, then pecks her nose. “Thank you.” And then her cheek. “I love you.” He finally kisses her lips again, short and soft.

“I love you, too.”

[dude-why-3]

writing is 10% storytelling and 90% rearranging three sentences for an hour like you're trying to solve an ancient curse

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WIP Wednesday:

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me coming back stronger than a '90s trend after not one but two marriage proposals:

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the zombie au, basically