Simple Pleasures: Annie Leonhart x Reader

Chapter 1: The Road Up

Staring out at the vast expanse of tightly packed evergreens, you find your eyes quickly and consistently losing focus on the green and brown and instead zoning in on strands of blonde. To the right of you sits your girlfriend of two years, Annie Leonhart. You allow your eyes to shift from the feathery lengths of golden hair to her profile. With the sun leaking through the trees as the car speeds from one set of shrubbery to the next, light dapples her face: one ray momentarily highlights her brilliant blue eyes, and just as quickly, it illuminates the pink of her lips. You are entranced; each day for two years, seeing this woman has felt like noticing something new about your favorite painting.

Suddenly, the profile you have been admiring transforms to a complete face as Annie turns her head towards you, noticing how intently you have been staring at her. In a stern voice that is typical of her, she floats a simple question into the air:

"What?"

"Nothing," you say back, allowing a smirk to slowly paint your face.

Oblivious to the beginning stages of this smile, Annie tenses.

"Y/N, what is it?" She darts her head to her right and looks out of the moving window, as if she expects someone—something—to be following her.

"No, I promise it's nothing," you say, placing your hand on hers.

She jumps and recoils her hand, whipping her head towards yours. Sometimes, you forget how on edge Annie is. She seems so composed nearly all day, every day—forgetting the bundles of tensions and anxieties she holds with her is only natural, isn't it?

"I-I'm sorry. I was just looking at you. You looked really pretty in the light, and I got caught up, and forgot you were on alert," you say, trying to calm her.

You and Annie came to an unspoken deal. Annie often finds herself "on alert," as you both call it—she zones out the people around her in search of some sort of hidden threat. You have a keen sense for this state of being, as you can feel the air around her thicken with tension. Many people found Annie to be difficult to be around because of this trait, but oddly, it is something you love about her. You often go back and forth in your head about whether it was okay to love this part of her, as you despised the fact that she had been raised to be so tense and aware at all times of the day. Yet, you felt safe around her. You knew that even above wanting to protect herself, she wanted to protect you. And as comforting as this feeling was, it felt selfish to enjoy it. Sometimes, you wished that she could be aloof like you, just for one day, just so she could see the world through your eyes. You hope that this trip will do just that, even temporarily.

She looks at you intently, her eyes studying your face as if fighting to recognize who you were. Quickly, she realizes. You were Y/N, and you loved her, even in moments like these, just as she loves you. Her shoulders fall, and she sighs.

"It's fine," she says, dismissively. You can tell she is still calming herself. And just as quickly as she went "on alert," the weight of your words wash over her as she lowers her head to look at her lap, her mouth entering a shy smile. She grabs your hand and playfully squeezes it.

With a quiet chuckle, her small grin transforms to a toothy smile. You rarely see her smile with her teeth, and make sure to take a mental picture of it. Joy has never looked so good on anyone, and you want more than anything to ensure that she smiles this way for the rest of her life. She leans her head on your shoulder, and lets go of your hand to loop her arm through yours, holding it tightly. You could stay like this forever, you think to yourself. You could—

"Hey, what's going on back there? I don't want any grandchildren yet, you know!"

Two hearty chuckles. Your parents. In that moment with Annie, you zoned out everyone else, and completely forgot that you were not only being driven, but that you were being driven by your parents. It seems Annie forgot, too, as a blush of red spread across her face.

"Mom!" you said, half embarrassed and half giggling. As much as you hated the embarrassment you felt from their joke, you are your parents' child, and found the humor in the entire situation quickly.

It seems Annie did, too. Soon, the volume of her laughter overpowered yours as she covered her face with her palm. Though initially distrustful and cold to your parents, she has significantly warmed up to them over the years. Your parents were never offended by her serious nature. In fact, they welcomed it. You recall them saying "Well, we need someone to balance us out before we destroy the town, don't we?" You are grateful for them. And a part of you believes that Annie is, too. They had never done anything to intentionally harm her, and when harm inevitably did come through a mistake or misunderstanding, they were quick to explain and apologize. Though initially defensive when they began to laugh near her, it did not take long for Annie to realize that when your parents laughed, they were not laughing at her. Rather, their laughing was an invitation to her: an invitation telling her that she was safe with them, and that they were content to be with her. And though she does not always see the humor in the same situations as your parents, you have never seen her laugh more than she does than with them. And when Annie laughs, you laugh—you have never heard anything contagious, more welcoming, than that damn laugh.