Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was hot. So, so hot.

With the way the sun's fierce light pierced through your eyes, you couldn't help but stir awake with a groan, wincing and pulling away, and only then did you decide to force your eyes open. You despised it. Waking up was the hardest thing you could do every day, and even worse if it was involuntary.

You sighed and instinctively grabbed your phone, seeing that it was only 12:02 PM. Noontime was always the brightest and hottest. You skimmed over your messages, narrowing your eyes at the most recent one.

Sasha: connie pissed himself

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Never mind. You set the phone down and shut your eyes.

God, you despised how bright it was—how hot it was—and how the sunlight had seeped through the thin of your skin. You squeezed your eyes, hoping to sleep it off again, but the light was still too bright, glowing a vivid orange through your eyelids. It was dreadful, and you could only frown at your interrupted peace.

Not only that, you felt something laying on you—something lying along the curve of your waistline and on the crook of your neck, a mass of heat pressing down onto yours.

And then you felt it.

A breath. A slow, warm breath that bled into the fabric of your shoulders and grazed the skin of your ear.

You quickly sat up, a mixture of shock and confusion contorting your features. As you did so, the arm that was previously slung around your waist and the head resting on your shoulder slid off of you and landed on the mattress with a soft thump.

You weren't alone. Someone was on your bed.

The sound of a soft groan broke the silence and you immediately snapped your head to your left.

Oh, it was just Armin.

A sigh of relief tipped out of your mouth as you watched the boy frown and rise from his sleep, one slim hand coming to tousle the blonde locks on his forehead and the other one rubbing his eyes. His bangs were splayed on his forehead and slick with a light sweat. You watched his serene expression through tired eyes—the way a droplet of sweat trickled down his neck and the way his lashes scattered beneath his closed eyelids.

Unfortunately, your relief was cut short as the heat came back to your senses. So he was the one making it so uncomfortably hot. Alongside the sweltering weather and the warmth that radiated from his body, your nap had been cut short. You sat upright on the bed with distaste on your tongue.

"Armin...?" You called out, his name slipping out of your mouth with confusion. Although, you truly weren't all that confused; it was just Armin, after all. The sleepy boy only replied with a delicate yawn.

"It's so hot," you muttered to yourself, reaching an arm to wipe the sheen of sweat on your forehead and fanning your face with your other hand.

The windows were right next to the bed, gray curtains were drawn wide open. So much light and so much warmth poured in, seeming to sting and scald every crevice of your skin. Then the realization struck you.

This wasn't your room. It was Eren's.

You recognized those curtains, dark and solid. It matched his blanket and pillows, which were currently strewn messily on the floor as you and Armin sat on his king-sized bed. You peered at his cluttered desk, glancing at the young photos of you and Eren plastered on his wall. You spotted an old Fortnite poster that was still hung up for some strange reason (you'd humor him about it later), then his closet, which was untidy and piled with wrinkled clothes.

Oh, right, you remembered why you were here. It was a typical Saturday afternoon for your friend group—one where you, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa would hang out.

Now you had a lot of things on your mind. Why were you sleeping in Eren's room—and with only Armin? And where was Eren himself? Why didn’t he turn the AC on? A spiral of questions rang in your head, blurred by the exhaustion of heat and the drowsiness of sleep. It didn't feel good to worry when it was already hard to ignore the overload in your system.

"Why is it so hot?" Armin finally spoke up, voice breathy, head reclined onto the wall. Sweat melted down the curve of his Adam's apple as he gulped. The sight almost looked provocative.

"Why are you so hot?" you muttered, tone accusatory.

His normally pale face instantly flushed with a deep rosiness. Armin looked down, stumped by surprise and the suggestive undertone of your words.

"Wait, wait—what?" he met your eyes with bewilderment.

You let out a cheery laugh, finding it funny that he took it another way. It was entertaining seeing Armin get flustered. It was...adorable. Armin's face seemed to grow redder. It only egged you on to laugh even harder.

"Kidding. I'm just messing with you. Your body was so hot, though." Your arm came up to wipe away more sweat from your forehead, and you rolled your eyes. Lips curling into an amused, mischievous grin, you remarked, “Had me sweating.” From the corner of your eyes, you could see him smiling a nervous, bashful smile as he cowered away from your gaze.

But your grin died down as fast as it came, and you frowned, remembering the situation you were in. You were still sitting in a stuffy room with no clue as to where the host of the house was.

"When did we fall asleep? And is Eren or Mikasa home?"

He shrugged (the slight hue of rose on his cheeks was still evident), shoulders brushing the silky strands of his blonde hair. "He said they're out buying stuff. I'm not sure what, though." Armin sheepishly chuckled.

You nodded and yawned, and a prolonged moment of silence fell over the two of you. It was a comfortable silence—just you and Armin in the moment, silently basking in the noontime heat. You sank deeper into Eren's bed, and when you finally lifted your gaze, you found that Armin was looking at you, soft blue pastel eyes boring into yours. His face had the slightest tint of pink to it—almost as if...he was still blushing? No, you quickly denied it; it was just the heat, after all.

A tired sigh seeped out of your mouth once again, and you started to speak. "You know, Eren and Mikasa always seem to be together," you noted mindlessly.

"Yeah. Of course." He nodded. "I mean, they've known each other for a long time."

"They've known us for a long time, too."

Armin glanced at you once more. It was a soft glance, mellow—a glance where the light blues of his eyes were glossed with sleepiness.

"I'm pretty sure Eren likes her," you continue. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was your tiredness, but the words escaped your mouth faster than you could register.

Armin slightly frowned at that, shooting you a confused look. How random.

But it seemed to spark a question in his head.

He scooted closer and reached out to let his hand rest on your shoulder, the very same spot where his face was buried just a few minutes ago. He leaned in close—listening close—as if you were about to reveal your biggest secret, and he was going to catch it.

"Do you like him?"

His sudden question rang as clear as day into the hot and crisp air, lingering, unanswered. Your hot breath tingled against his skin as you became all too aware of the heavy silence. Where did this come from? It was unexpected of him, but you were oblivious to your own intentions when you brought up their relationship in the first place. You just woke up, for goodness sake. Your answer should have come easily, yet you found yourself pausing and narrowing your eyes at Armin.

The question repeated itself in your head.

Did you like him?

"Armin—"

You went quiet as the sudden rumble of the air conditioner sounded throughout the room. Slow footsteps echoed outside the door, feet tumbling down the hallway. It surprised you, but you soon relaxed and sighed in relief. They must be home. You took this as an opportunity to tuck Armin's earlier question away into the back of your mind. You'll ponder it later. Hopefully, he'll forget about it soon.

The bedroom door sprang open with a fast click, revealing Eren clutching a plastic bag.

He's here.

He stood at the doorway, a black tee fitted on his figure and loose jeans adorning his legs. Your eyes trailed up to his hands, where his grip on the bag seemed a little too tight—tight enough that veins started to crease his knuckles. You could faintly see a thin-stringed necklace that peeked out from his collarbones, slipping under his shirt. Nothing fancy, yet he effortlessly looked so good. What seemed out of character was the fuzzy white slippers on his feet that said "#1" on one shoe and "dad" on the other. You almost burst out laughing right then and there.

"Yo," Eren greeted, slippers padding against the wood as he took steps closer, only to stop abruptly in his tracks. His usually stoic face melted into confusion and mild surprise. Eren's eyes, teal like jade stones, slotted over the expanse of his bed. "Am I interrupting something...?"

There you sat with Armin (who was still red-faced) with bodies close and breaths intermingling, faces dazed and tired, his pretty hand on your shoulder, and most importantly, sweat running down your skin. The crystal-like shine in Eren's eyes seemed to dissipate and darken into shock. What he saw was two of his friends, who looked suggestively suspicious, on his bed doing who knows what. Not to mention that his bed was a mess, and pillows were scattered on the floor.

"Did you guys...fuck or something? Shit, on my bed, too..."

A sliver of horror swirled to the back of your mind, all the way back to where the breathy sound of Armin's "do you like him?" had been shoved away. The idea of you liking Eren made nervousness wash over you, and even more so when Eren's inappropriate insinuation dawned on you. No, you and Armin are best friends— you and Eren are best friends.

Before you could even speak, a stupefied Armin spluttered out a response, eyes wide and cheeks beet-red, "N-no no! It's nothing like that!" His hands waved in front of him defensively.

Eren slowly raised an eyebrow. "Yeah..." he drawled. He, who hasn’t moved an inch, looked down to the scattered blankets, back to you and Armin, and narrowed his eyes even further at your sweaty faces. The slightest, slightest twinge of pink dusted Eren's cheeks. "Sure ..."

Right then, Mikasa followed in with quick steps. Her pretty face was as stoic as ever, and she, too, carried plastic bags in both hands. The silence was beckoning, and she seemed to notice the tension.

"Is something wrong?"

All eyes dart to her. Eren shuffled on his feet and came close to her ear.

"They had sex on my bed."

Mikasa's eyes went wide, brows quirked and lips tight, and she heard a soft " oh my gosh" coming from your direction. You and Armin reacted the same way—kind of, as his jaw dropped and he blushed hard, but you quickly slapped a palm to your tired face. Eren was always full of surprises.

"No, it’s not what you guys think!" Armin's hands came up in surrender.

You laughed and got off the bed, amusement playing on your lips and eyes. "We didn't fuck, Eren. We just woke up." You yawned.

"Woke up from fucking."

"No. We were sleeping."

" Sleeping with each other."

"No."

Eren rolled his eyes and trudged closer to you, leaving behind a quiet, confused Mikasa.

"You guys were very close." He paused. It wasn't a long pause—just long enough for him to rake his eyes down your taunting stare and your disheveled appearance—before he resumed, "Actually, forget it. Why is my shit on the floor?" His brows furrowed, and he pointed to the pillows and blankets strewn across the floor.

You rolled your eyes at him. "Since when is your shit not on the floor?"

Upon your remark, Eren seemed taken aback but nonetheless amused. "Not true." He huffed and lightly kicked your legs with his dad slippers. Your mouth broke into a wide smile as you brought your hands up to shove him playfully. Instantly, his arm came up to quickly block you, tanned and veiny. The plastic bag rustled in his grip when he moved. "You're asking for a fight you can't win, now."

Too drowsy to deal with his antics, you shoved his arm and plopped down onto the ground as you motioned for your friends to sit. "Just shut up and give us the food."

As if the tension suddenly dissolved, everyone scurried onto Eren's fuzzy carpet as the bags were tossed onto the floor. Armin slid down from the bed, who—unbeknownst to you—watched the exchange between you and Eren with intrigue.

The contents of the bags were dumped onto the carpet: a mix of candies, chips, and a few canned drinks, followed by a...My Little Pony plushie? You couldn't help but laugh, Armin chortling after you.

"Oh." Mikasa took the plushie with a shy frown. "That's mine."

The group erupted in soft laughter. It was a complete contrast to her personality, since something so cutely pastel contradicted her dark aesthetic. "What's that for, Mikasa?"

"It's cute." She blinked. "I'm putting it in my car." With the same shy expression, she tucked the toy into her lap.

"Mikasa, what are you, five?" Eren jabbed—not in a demeaning way, but in a soft, playful manner.

"Hey." You smacked his arm with a bag of chips. "I think it's cute." From the corner of your eyes, Mikasa’s expression bloomed with a rose-lipped smile.

Eren feigned injury as he rubbed the spot where you hit him. "Nobody likes you,” he mumbled.

Nobody, huh? You pretended to contemplate it, hand on your chin. "Hm, Jean likes me." You let his name ring out like silk sheets, stressing the velvety tones of the vowels. Surprised gazes fell on you.

"What? Does he really?" Eren coiled back in confusion, chuckling. Everyone knew Jean and Eren always had something against each other, and the most trivial of things would set them off at each other's throats. But no one knew where it started—it was likely meaningless kid rivalry that eventually continued into their adult years. Friends, frenemies—who knows?

"First it's Mikasa, then it's you," he noted, lips pressing into a thin line.

"Oh, um...when did this happen...?" Mikasa perked up. Curiosity pooled in the grays of her eyes, an innocence that you rarely discern on her. "I haven't mentioned this yet, but Jean asked me out again earlier this week. I said no. Is he...is he messing with the both of us?"

Eyes wide, you refuted, "No way, Jean's not the type to do that. I was just joking about him liking me."

Eren leaned forward with his arms on his knees, and you couldn't help but notice the taut, pleasing way the shirt sleeves hugged his toned arms. "Well, do you like him?"

Again. It was that question again. Only this time, it was about someone else. Jean was undoubtedly hot and tall, but you weren't going to admit that. Before answering, you found yourself locking eyes with Eren, whose pearl gaze burned into yours. For a moment you stammered your response.

"I—no, no. I don't like him."

The conversation ended there, but not yet shifting to another one. You took this moment to recollect your thoughts and simmer down from your little slip-up. There was a sense of unresolved tension lingering in the air...or maybe that was just you? All you could think about was Eren’s question. It was reminiscent of Armin's question.

You mulled over it in your head. Who did you like? Was there even anyone?

Eren?

"Armin, you've been awfully quiet." The man holding your attention broke you out of your thoughts.

Under the penetrating gazes of his friends, Armin seemed to shrink, startled and caught off-guard like a doe-eyed puppy—a puppy with pretty blue eyes.

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean to be." He gave a shy smile and looked down at his hands. "I'm just...enjoying my gummy worms." He held up his opened bag of gummies, popping one in his mouth.

You and Eren watched as Armin offered the bag to Mikasa, whose dainty, manicured hand dove into the bag for a gummy worm—just before Armin fumbled and dropped the whole packet on the floor. His embarrassed gaze rose from the carpet to you as the following string of words crossed his ears.

"Do you like anyone, Armin?"

It was the third time that question had been asked, and you sat expectantly after the question left your lips. This time around, you shot it right back at the culprit of it all.

The blonde froze like a deer in headlights, the blue water of his eyes reflecting a strange nervousness.

"What? N-no...I don't like anybody. Um, not really..." Armin stammered, voice gradually growing quieter. Slowly, a faint rosy hue spread across his cheeks.

"Judging from that reaction, you do." Eren smiled.

"Is it Annie...?" Mikasa asked.

Armin's blush grew scarlet deep, like a blister on hot skin, settling so pretty on his cheeks and ears. "No, s-she's just a friend from boxing."

You didn't know Annie that well—just a petite, serious girl whose droopy eyes struck you cold. You met her through Reiner, but only very briefly.

"Armin, we already know," Mikasa reassured him, but you doubted that it made him any less hesitant.

"I—" Armin accepted defeat. "Yeah, um, I like her. Was it that obvious?"

"Sort of,” she replied.

You laughed at Eren's remarks, Mikasa's attempt at reassurance, and Armin's bashful fluster. As two of your friends overwhelmed Armin about his newfound crush, the impending feeling of heat struck you one last time.

"It's really hot in here. I'm gonna go turn the AC up,” you listlessly huffed, stumbling onto your feet to leave the room.

"It is pretty hot," Eren mumbled, waving you off.

As you lumbered down the stairs, you didn't fail to notice the extra pair of footsteps that pattered behind you. You glanced back, only to find that it was Armin. What was he doing here? Or rather, what was he going to ask now?

The sensation of a hand against your skin startled you. A gentle hand on your forearm drew you back.

"You like Eren...don't you?" Armin spoke lowly into the dim light, eyes equally as dim, pupils careful and trained onto yours. Your brows crinkled, lips parting to answer—more specifically, to say no. But as his gaze drilled into yours, your tongue froze at the roof of your mouth, and the words constricted inside your throat. No answer came out. You couldn't even swallow, nor try again, nor brush it off like you usually do. Hell, you couldn't even think.

Because right now, you didn't know the answer to his question, and no was definitely not one of them.

Another feather-like tug retrained your senses on Armin. He leaned in a little closer, so minuscule that you wouldn't have known any better. "Y/N, I know you do,” he persisted. Though he whispered, everything he said rang loud in your ears.

You looked beyond the stairs, right where Eren and Mikasa were seated in his room.

"Armin, come here," you murmured. With that, you tugged his arm pulling him outside to the backyard. Armin didn't say anything as you led him, and he didn't dare let go of you. The sliding door opened with a click and closed with a slam.

It was even hotter and even brighter out here, even where the shade of the porch overhang.

Armin was wide-eyed, and the rest of his face remained apprehensive. "Why are we out here...?"

"Just in case,” you blurted out. You didn't know where to start. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to tell Armin this.

Nothing to lose, right? You trust him. Armin is your best friend.

You took a deep breath.

"I do like Eren." You paused. "But I don't...know. Fuck, the thing is...I can't tell if I want him romantically...or platonically."

Armin knitted his eyebrows together in confusion and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. His hand was still clasped onto your forearm, yet he made no move to change it.

"I don't know if I'm feeling this way just because I crave intimacy, but I also want to...be with Eren. I'm not sure of my feelings, but something is definitely there." For a split second, your eyes flitted down to his hand before you continued, "Please don't tell a soul."

Armin nodded and smiled, so pleasantly charming. He removed his hand from your arm, looking at you with those deep, heavenly eyes of his.

"I was like that with Annie at first,” he gushed.

You don't know what prompted you to chuckle, but you did. Maybe it was the cheesiness and youthfulness of the situation: just you and Armin whispering about your crushes like children on a hot summer day.

After a beat of silence, he continued.

"Hey Y/N, um, how about you help me? You have experience with love, so you can help me with Annie. And I'll help you get with Eren. Or, I'll try to..." He mutters the last part quietly, almost shyly. "He's my best friend—I know him the most."

You could only stare at him quietly.

"Deal?" He beamed.

You nodded. The midday heat radiated against your skin as the scent of freshly-cut grass flitted about your senses. As you stood with Armin under the blue shade of Eren's back porch, the moment dawned on you.

This was the pinpoint of what was soon to blossom.

Chapter Text

It was yet another hot day, though cooler than the last. You found yourself alone with Armin for a second time, but luckily in a far less intimate situation.

It had been two days since the deal…or rather, suggestion. It was only a suggestion. 

For now.

The more you thought about it, the more the idea sounded jarring. You might've nodded at his words, but you doubted your ability to score him a girlfriend. Even so, you wouldn't—and couldn't—doubt his seriousness. Armin was honest and rarely spoke with hidden meanings.

Perhaps you should be willing to help him.

Anything for your sweet, sweet, best friend, right?

You hadn't gotten a chance to talk it through before Eren phoned for you to get back into the room. A day flew past in a breeze, then another, and here you were, sailing where the wind took you.

Apparently, the wind took you to Armin's car.

"I wonder what Eren called us over for," Armin mumbled, languidly pushing up his glasses with one hand and clutching onto the steering wheel with the other.

The faint hum of music buzzed in your ears, and you mindlessly watched the slow blur of trees and houses pass by from the passenger window. It was late afternoon—almost evening, and the hearth of the sun seemed to melt into the horizon. Purples and oranges and reds wept along the sun's trail until you couldn't discern them anymore, pooling together in a captivating blend like watercolor on a canvas. Carpooling with Armin was often peaceful and comforting, with soft music and dulcet air conditioning. He had insisted he give you a ride today.

Nearly missing the words that tumbled out of his mouth, you snapped out of your reverie and turned your head to face him.

"Hopefully it's not something stupid. What if he just misses us?" you laughed, though you doubted the latter was the actual reason. All you knew was that Eren sent a vague "guys come over" to the group chat, and Mikasa was quickly on her way before the rest of you could ask for an explanation. Armin had picked you up from your shift at the cafe earlier, and the two of you were heading to Eren's house.

Nevertheless, there was nothing to worry about. It would just be another harmless hangout at Eren's. Nothing out of the ordinary—not even his unexcused dryness. Plus, you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see him.

"He probably needs something from us." You turn your head back to the window, its passing scenery greeting you once again. "Not that I'm complaining," you muttered, smiling to yourself.

That reminded you of your confession the other day.

Shit. That must've reminded Armin, too. He hadn't mentioned anything about it so far, so you weren't going to bring it up. Better to keep it that way.

From your peripheral, you saw him tense up. He was going to say something about it, wasn't he?

But he didn't.

Instead, he kept driving, eyes trained upfront.

You sighed, not realizing you were tense, too. Right now wouldn't be a good time as Eren's house neared closer and closer. It was almost foreboding, like a bewitched, haunted house in the midst of a sunny suburb. You swore the more you anticipated meeting the all-too-familiar person who dwelled inside the house, the more the spell seemed to lure you further.

Before you knew it, Armin's car quickly braked on garage pavement, and the engine clicked to a stop with a hasty twist of his keys. You almost knocked Armin's car door against Mikasa's car as you stepped out.

"I see this house more than I see my parents," Armin quipped, pulling you shoulder-to-shoulder towards the front door.

Not even a second before Armin's finger could graze the doorbell, the door swung open. You swore Armin jumped back into your arms, but your attention was locked on a certain brown-haired man, who stood tall and domineering, his grin poisoned by something almost sinister yet so warm.

"Hey. We're going to be cleaning my room," Eren said coolly.

God, Eren was always full of surprises.

"You called us over for this? " Your jaw dropped, and he sent you an endearing, but very clearly unapologetic smile. Despite that, you embraced the heart of his welcome home as Eren stepped aside for you.

"Eren, you can do this yourself,” Armin sighed.

"I can." He innocently blinked. "But it'll be easier with you guys. The more the merrier, right? Plus, I have some of your stuff—might as well take it back."

Armin let out an amused chuckle with a bashful smile, then gently ran a hand through his hair. "I'm good, you can just keep it at this point." 

Ever since the dawn of your friendship, Eren's house was the designated meeting spot. His home was the biggest and the most luxurious, filled with browns and beiges and grays that seemed to wrap you in a blanket of affection. You were sure you left some things here, too. Everything must've accumulated over the years. Even though you took your stuff back, someway, somehow, newer stuff kept turning up. In the end, it became too recurrent for you to care anymore.

Besides, his place was like a second home to you. You wondered if the reason you were so eager to come back was because of the homeliness or because of something—or rather, someone —else.

Eren and Armin's idle chatter lingered about the dim living room, which was never fully lit up, but you were already clambering up the stairs towards Eren's room.

Not only was his living room dim, but his room was usually overcast with a dusky luster. Except for today. Today, it was uncharacteristically bright, with overhead lights instead of low, warm lamps. The first thing you saw was a crouching Mikasa hovering over a box.

"Hey, Mikasa." You smiled. "What are you looking at?"

Raven hair fluttered with the movement of her head. "It's Eren's old photos and drawings."

You stepped closer and peered into the box. It was filled with little doodled slips of paper, some folded, some crinkled, and polaroids of your friends—all failed shots, remnants of what could've been on his wall. A few birthday cards were in there, too, messily thrown together with gel pens and bold markers. Your nimble fingers shuffled through the papers and pulled out a particular polaroid.

"No way, I remember this,” you laughed. It was an elementary picture of the four of you piggybacking one another: Armin carrying Eren, and Mikasa carrying you, although Armin received the short end of the stick and struggled beneath Eren's weight. Armin's face was the funniest part, twisted between a frown and a grimace as the flash momentarily blinded him.

"Why'd you take it down, Eren?" you asked, still smiling at the polaroid. Eren, who was by the door, drew closer to take a peek at your hand. He only chuckled in response and dragged himself to his closet.

"Oh, I know,” a new voice spoke up, all-too-familiar, all-too-mellow, and all-too-close. Armin suddenly stood beside you, peering over your shoulder, blonde hair brushing the shell of your ears. You wondered when he snuck up next to you, and so stealthily, too. He was so close, so intimately close, that you could smell his chapstick.

"I know exactly why," he brooded.

And when you turned to face him, the tips of your noses kissed. He seemed to pay it no mind. You didn't let yourself get too engrossed in the moment and quickly turned back, following his line of vision towards his younger self in the photo. You both stared at young Armin.

He looked constipated.

"I looked constipated,” Armin complained with a frown before promptly walking away. Eren and Mikasa snickered from their corners of the room, and you couldn't stifle yours either.

"Guys, don't laugh..."

"I'm keeping this," you teased.

Fear painted Armin’s eyes. “No, please don't.”

Eren chuckled. "Okay, guys, get to cleaning. Just start somewhere, anywhere. Armin, you can look under my bed or something. Y/N, help me with this. This place better be spotless, got it?"

"Under the bed?" Armin whined as he kneeled to peek below the tossed sheets and bedding, only to go wide-eyed and grimace. “This is so silly."

"Yeah, we're not your servants," you agreed, crossing your arms and shooting Eren a pointed glare. Despite that, you obediently stalked closer to him. "You sound like Professor Ackerman."

"Oh, don't remind me," Eren mumbled. "I guess that means all of his conditioning paid off.” He scoffed and looked away, diverting his green gaze from yours.

"Clearly not enough." Mikasa pulled out an unplugged PS4 from under his bed.

Ignoring her comment, Eren turned to pull out old shoes, containers, and clothes from the floor of his closet.

You liked the way his bare arms flexed as he did so, tapered veins and muscles gorgeous on his naturally bronzed complexion. He looked so heavenly from the side, with his nose sculpted straight and delicately pointed and lips jutting out perfectly from his face.

What a beautiful man.

When he called your name, you were quick to meet his gaze. You got too caught up in staring at him.

"Professor Ackerman was a great teacher. It was just his way of keeping us in check," you retorted.

"Y/N, you're only saying that because you think he's attractive."

A short, soft laugh sounded somewhere behind you, which you could assume was Armin.

"He's old and short, Y/N," Mikasa argued as she rummaged through yet simultaneously descrambled the contents of Eren’s desk.

"Forget that, his face is hot. And his hair."

"That man is distantly related to me."

You limply raised your hands in defense. "Attractiveness runs in the family then, Mikasa." You winked. 

She shyly frowned in return, but her eyes darted back to you. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You grinned and turned back to Eren.

He gestured to the hanger he currently held up high before quickly shoving it in your face. "Y/N, do you want this hoodie? I don't want it."

It looked rarely worn and almost new, freshly smoothed out, and smelled of his home fragrance. It had a print on the front and was dark in color, matching the deep tones reminiscent of a forest in his wardrobe.

You internally screamed. A personal gift from Eren, and his hoodie, no less? Oh, you would definitely be taking this.

Eren held it up to your frame as if sizing you up like a mother shopping for her child. You unknowingly drew closer to his touch with a smile. He reciprocated with a smile of his own, gentle and proud on the thin of his lips. 

Ever since your confession, you felt as if you could act on your feelings more. But you knew you shouldn't. He was still just a friend, and you still couldn't even figure out if your feelings for him were platonic or not.

Eren released his hold when you took the hanger from his hands.

"I have more that I don't wear, if you want them."

Your cheeks instantly warmed at the thought of wearing Eren’s clothes—granted, clothes that he didn’t feel a need for anymore.

"Yeah, sure, thank you. Why me, though? What about Armin and Mikasa?"

Strong arms swayed as he started shuffling through the hangers and hangers of clothing. "Armin doesn't wear my style, and I've already asked Mikasa, but she doesn't want them."

Oh. You were a fool for thinking that you were any more special than your friends, especially someone even closer to him like Mikasa.

"Ah, Eren, so why are we doing this?" Armin asked. You knew from his lopsided smile that he was less than pleased though still willing to uncover junk from the crevices of Eren's bedroom.

"My father's coming home for the summer, so my mom wants my room cleaned before she comes home from work or I'm going to get an earful. I'd like it if I was on her good side before I move out soon. Not like Grisha would want to come into my room, though.”

He mumbled something about being treated like a kid, but you've heard that rant one too many times in your younger years to pay it any mind.

Cleaning went by, and you ended up with three more sweaters and hoodies than you had insisted on taking.

Not that you were complaining.

Most of the organizing came from his closet (it was a Yeager miracle that so much stuff could be shoved in there) and his drawers, which held a lot of...questionable things. The rest was clothes on the floor and hair care products that were supposed to be in his bathroom.

But when he fished out the sweeper and hand vacuums, you knew that you were done for.

Now, the four of you sat on his carpet once more, just like the other day—or any day at his house, really.

"You have a lot of unnecessary belongings, Eren." Mikasa scolded lightheartedly. She had been doing that since childhood, and you doubted she'd ever stop for as long they knew each other. Eren Yeager was typically a clean man, which was why it was a surprise to see the messes hidden behind doors and drawers and dusty bed corners, and it was him who ordered your classmates to clean when Professor Ackerman wasn't watching, too.

"Like those." You pointed to Eren's "#1 dad" slippers that sat snugly under sock-clad feet.

Eren wiggled his foot, and the slippers swayed comically with the movement. "You don't think these are necessary?" He shot you and Mikasa a bemused look.

You smiled. Four young adults on the floor of a bedroom, bantering like preteens as the aspects of money and responsibilities flew over their heads.

"Ah, my mom is calling. I'll be right back." Armin fumbled with his ringing phone between his fingers as he hastily shuffled to his feet and out the door. You only spared his retreating figure a glance before Eren reached over to your side and grabbed the TV remote. You felt the heat of his whole body looming over you.

"Do you mind if I change the movie?"

Scooting back to give him space, you replied, "I don't mind. But fair warning, the movie you chose yesterday put me and Armin to sleep."

Eren huffed and shot you a blank look. "You should appreciate my movie selection more."

Before you could retort, Armin stumbled back in, "Um, I have to go. My mom needs me home right now." He quickly motioned with his hand for you to come with him.

Oh. Right. Too swept up in the moment, you hastily staggered upwards, cradling Eren's hoodies and sweaters in your arms. You forgot that Armin was the one that drove you here.

You were almost at the door when Eren spoke up. "You don't have to leave early. I can take—"

And then he stopped mid-sentence.

You pieced it together: Eren and Mikasa sitting alone in one room.

"No...?" you mused, standing at the doorway.

Armin must've seen the unease in your face because he, too, put two and two together.

"It's late anyway, Y/N, I can take you home." Armin soothes your back with the pads of his fingers, unbeknownst to the eyes of the two still sitting in the room.

You left it at that, and your exchanges of goodbyes were brief. You saw Mikasa open her mouth to say more, but you and Armin were already gone from the door frame before she could speak.

The walk down the stairs and into Armin's car was silent. Being alone with Armin had always led to something lately. Maybe there would be another question. What was he going to ask now?

You had barely fastened your seatbelt when your suspicions came true.

"Do you ever plan on telling him how you feel?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. 

"Who?" you played dumb, lips pressing together.

Armin shot you a pointed glare, sharp like knives piercing the side of your cheek. Nonetheless, he smiled.

"You know who."

Hesitation washed over you for a moment. You could hear his seatbelt click into place as the engine started.

When you didn't answer, he continued, "I noticed you looking at him a lot."

You pursed your lips and looked at him. "Armin, you saw them up there. He was going to offer me a ride home but stopped. He wanted time alone with her, didn't he?" 

The idea of Eren and Mikasa alone in one room didn't sit too well with you.

It was Armin's turn to go silent. The radio was faint, so faint that you needed his silence to really hear it. By now, the car had started moving, and Eren's driveway was long forgotten. You could sense Armin's hesitance, but his words come out all the more confident.

"I guessed that too, but we're both reading too much into it. They're just best friends."

"That like each other,” you added, sighing. "I know that what I'm saying might be a stretch, but it's so obvious that they have something for each other.” You frowned and looked out the window to avoid his gaze as you weighed your next words carefully.

“Armin, um, I think I do like him romantically—I've just been convincing myself it's platonic. But I won't stand a chance against Mikasa."

"I guess we're both having love troubles. I feel as if I don't stand a chance, either." He ran a hand through his blonde locks.

"Oh, with Annie?"

"Oh—yeah. Right. Um, with Annie," he assured you, yet somehow not sounding too sure of himself either.

Your vision parted from the blur of yellow street lights when you turned to him. "How so?"

He paused for a moment.

"I doubt Annie would like somebody like me. Throughout high school, I was the stereotypical nerd..." He continued with a soft mumble, "I still am."

You knew that Armin was known as a nerdy, geeky person, and you suspected he might've been ostracized for it, but it never bothered him until now—or so you thought.

"You think she wouldn’t like you because of that? Armin, you're sweet, smart, caring, and considerate. If she doesn't like your interests or your nerdiness, then it's better to find someone that won't stop you from doing what makes you happy."

Armin nodded. "You're right. But, I don't know if she... likes it or not. I was only assuming."

Seeing him feel down, you reassured, "Lots of girls like nerdy boys."

Armin didn’t immediately respond. As a red light brought his car to a standstill, you sat through the tensest silence of the night yet. You wanted to keep yourself occupied. Maybe you could count streetlights or trace where the crimson of the light stops on your skin, but nothing could distract you from the man sitting in the driver's seat.

Then Armin finally looked at you.

"Y/N, I'm not dumb. I'm aware of what people say to me. I know when girls flirt with me, and I know that they don't mean it. I know that people like messing with some quiet, smart kid that will get flustered easily. I'm an easy target that you can pull quick reactions from." He paused and turned away. From the side, the blues of his eyes almost looked grayed out and dark beneath the shadow of his downturned lashes.

"What if they were actually flirting with you?"

He shot you a blank, pointed stare as if your attempt to console him sounded ludicrous. He looked peeved, even. If you hadn't known Armin any better, you would've thought it was a glare.

"I don't—I don't think so. I'm—"

"Well, how would you know?"

He pursed his lips. "It's just...my conversations with people don't feel sincere sometimes. It's more of a validation thing. Pretty girl and shy boy.

"Armin, you're not shy. You're pretty outgoing."

A cautious, slow smile curled at the corners of his lips. It went quiet once more, and the tense air dissipated into what felt like a compromise.

"I just...feel unattractive."

Your next words blurted themselves out before you could even suppress them.

"I think you're cute."

It was quiet for a moment. Too quiet. Armin didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even blush. You had nothing to focus on but the beam of car lights and the drone of soft music and the sound of moving tires, and you were stuck in this car for as long as he was here.

Fuck, you shouldn't have accepted his ride, or even his offer to drive you here in the first place. You almost fancied the idea that his insistence to drive you was for a reason, but that was now clearly unlikely.

He finally said, "Remember what I told you the other day? I want you to help me. I want to change, Y/N."

Your apartment was drawing closer, and your time together was coming to an end. You lived alone, so maybe you could use this lonesome night to think about what to do with your feelings...and about Armin, too.

"You...you don't need to change for anybody. You deserve to be loved for who you are."

As the vehicle rolled into the parking lot, Armin let your words sink in.

"It's okay if Annie and I don't work out. I want to change for myself."

The car doors unlocked with a click. You had arrived.

"Thank you for listening to me, even if you didn't want to. I'm sorry. Goodnight, Y/N." He smiled at you like sweet, sweet candy, and you might as well have been a cavity. You shuffled out of the seat as neatly as you could with a pile of Eren's sweater and hoodies in your arms, and before you could slam the door shut, Armin stopped you.

"You deserve someone that will love you for who you are, too."

You stilled at that, but you couldn't help but smile, too. Maybe yours was even sweeter than his, whose gaze was nothing short of heartfeltness and earnestness. Armin truly was an honest person, and you hoped that whichever way you helped him wouldn't be in vain.

"Thank you. We can talk more tomorrow. Goodnight."

Hugging Eren's clothes tighter to your chest all the while, you walked into your building, leaving Armin in the youthful haze of the night.

Chapter Text

You were mid-home-from-work routine when you received a text from Armin. As you unloaded your belongings from your bag, you picked up your phone from the table.

Lately, it seemed as if Armin had been talking to you quite a lot—more than he already did, no less.

Armin: Are you free later?

Ah, typical question. Since it was summer, the time spent with your friends was no longer limited to the weekends, minus the time spent outside of class hours and whenever your schedules didn't conflict. Even with your job, you were much more available compared to the academic year.

Despite having seen Armin almost every day for the last decade of your life, you never hesitated when it came to seeing more of your friends.

You: im free

just got home from work

Armin: Okay, sounds great

Do you want to hang out?

I want to take you somewhere

You: of course i do

where?

Armin: It’s a surprise

It’s really important and I need your help

I’d like for you to come along

You: armin this is really suspicious

but sure

surprise me

Armin: I swear it's nothing suspicious

You: is eren or mikasa coming?

Armin: No

Just you and me

I’ll pick you up from your house

Maybe sometime in the next hour?

You: okay sounds great

and whats the dress code?

Armin: Dress code is very casual

Please don't worry too much about it

You: i trust you armin...

see you

ill start getting ready

Armin: Tell me when you're ready!

See you!

Just the two of you? Just what was he up to? Not that you guys hadn't hung out alone before, but it was almost always the four of you as a group. With recent light of his insecurities and crush on Annie, you began to think it had something to do with that.

Then where could he possibly take you? Where would you even fit to benefit him in this situation?

You remembered the conversation from last night. He probably just wanted to finish it. After all, you were the one that offered to continue. But it felt like a hefty job, and you were unsure if you were suited for the task.

It wasn't as if you were obligated to help him. Still, you just couldn't help but want to—you felt like you needed to. It was hard to come by people like Armin, who was nothing but kind and considerate towards you. Now that your most dedicated pillar of support had finally come to you for help, it was time to repay the favor. You were afraid to fail him when he had already done so much for you.

Still, part of you was excited. You would do anything in your power to win over his crush.

You'd brush it off for now, though, since you needed to get ready. 

Armin's car had been parked within a short walking distance. From your door to his, there was only the scuttle of your shoes on the cracked pavement and the distant sound of whirring cars.

"Hey." He flashed you a welcoming, warm smile.

You scooted into the passenger seat, mirroring his smile. "Hey, Armin."

As you shut the door, you couldn't help but breathe in the familiarity of his car. It was the usual: light air conditioning, quiet music, and that friendly fragrance of his car seats. A mix of something woody and rosy—his cologne—and the minty-ness of the cup container filled with that gum he seemed to always chew.

Armin was never unkempt, always clean, and smelled of his body wash, a warm vanilla scent—a scent that reminded you of home.

You mentally backtracked. You were glad he wasn't a mind reader, or else he'd find out you had been shamelessly smelling him and his car.

"Is that Eren's sweater?"

His voice broke you out of your thoughts, and he shot you a long glance as you buckled your seatbelt.

You looked down.

Oh.

You nearly forgot. The centerpiece of your outfit was none other than one of Eren's sweaters that he had given you yesterday. How could you have forgotten? The sweater hanging off your body was a blatant reminder of your sort-of feelings for him, which you couldn’t help but convince yourself were platonic rather than romantic.

Despite the hot weather, you threw it on, determined to wear it even if you suffered from heatstroke.

"Maybe it is,” you replied with a shrug, tone teasing. 

Armin only responded with an airy chuckle. The car was moving now, a subtle reminder that he had brought you here for a reason. Before you could even ask, a notification on your phone chimed, ringing loud throughout the quiet interior.

Texts from your group chat.

Eren: mikasa and i are getting something to drink right now

you guys wanna join?

you can come meet us there

i'll send the address

we're also getting dinner later so come along

i'm paying

You blinked, rereading the text.

Mikasa and I are getting something to drink right now.

Mikasa and I.

Right now.

Oh.

Had they been making plans in private, only deciding to ask the group chat as a last-minute decision? The two seemed to already be together, after all. You knew that not everything had to be a four-person activity, but knowing that the two were alone together felt strange. You couldn't shake off your uneasiness.

No, no, you were thinking too hard about it. In fact, you were alone with Armin right now. Eren and Mikasa had their own lives and their own choices, and it was all just in your head. This was normal—you had done the same before.

Were you jealous?

You watched the front window view slow from moving buildings to lone traffic lights as yellow flickered into red. You then looked at Armin, who was swooping back his long hair and adjusting his glasses.

"Eren just texted. He and Mikasa are getting something to drink right now and dinner later. He wants to know if we can join,” you finally said.

Armin's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, drinks...? Eren and Mikasa are...?" He paused, trailing off.

…Together?

Armin spared you a pitying glance, and despite your effort to mask it, he read the disappointment from your expression.

"Don't worry, Y/N, it's the usual. We always go get milkshakes together. All four of us. Maybe Eren was already texting her, or maybe he was driving near her place and decided to drop by. He's done this before with all of us." Armin extended his hand over the console to yours, where he placed his fingers on your wrist and rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb. "Don't think too much into it, okay? It could just be all in your head." 

You nodded.

"We might not be able to get drinks right now, but we can catch them at dinner if that's okay with you." He smiled reassuringly.

You thought it was ironic. The thought of Eren and Mikasa off on their own and leaving you and Armin out worried you, but here you were, alone with Armin and heading off to who knows where. You could only laugh at yourself.

Speaking of which...

"Armin, you haven't told me where we're going."

A cherry, tantalizing smile inched up his face.

"Sorry, you're right. I haven't."

Armin tilted his head towards you, turning ever so slightly until you could see his pretty blue-eyed smile.

"We're going to a barber shop."

You waited for him to finish, raising a brow.

"I'm going to get a haircut."

Your eyes widened.

"You're—what?"

Instantly, your eyes darted to his hair—long and clean and fair on his shoulders. Never once was it tangled or dirty, only silky and faultless as it always seemed. You suddenly found yourself threading your fingers through his locks.

"Wait, are you serious?"

All of this suspense, only to find out you two were going to a barbershop. Even as you pondered the reasoning behind the dramatic wait, you couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of it.

"Yeah! I am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I just wanted to tell you in person rather than through text." Armin replied, bashfully craning his neck away from your hand that was still in his hair. "Hey, that tickles."

You retracted your hand, laughing, but your thoughts were still swarming with the fact that Armin Arlert wanted his hair cut. Armin Arlert, whose blonde tresses had always framed his face and neck.

"I can't believe it. What type of haircut are you getting?"

One of his hands left the wheel and clumsily felt for his plugged-in phone on the console, handing it to you. You took it without a thought.

"I saved some pictures on my phone if you want to look. You know my password, right?"

You hummed in response, pressed in the digits of his phone password, and swiped around until you found his camera roll. His recent photos consisted of various sunset shots (or sunrise, since you knew Armin was an early bird) that were taken from his bedroom window and the aforementioned hairstyle pictures. A good handful of them, too, all in different angles and lighting.

Wow, Armin sure was thorough for one simple haircut.

"I want an undercut, but I want to keep my hair up to my ears. Kinda like—"

"Kinda like Levi?" You smirked. You eyed him shrewdly, and if you weren't so caught up in your joke, you would've seen him mirthfully roll his eyes with a childish smile.

Armin paused to consider his words, and after chuckling, he spoke. "I've been thinking about getting a haircut for a while now, but I didn't decide until last night. I searched around for some references this morning, and you were talking about him yesterday. You said...you said he was hot."

An easy, brief smile made its way to your lips. "His hair is only one of the many things that make him hot."

You found it cute that Armin had remembered your banter about Professor Ackerman last night.

Speaking of last night, you wondered if he was going to mention your conversation—hopefully regarding how he wanted you to help him. Right now would be a fitting time, wouldn't it? You and Armin, alone in his car. He poured his feelings out once here, so maybe he'd do it twice.

"If you think his hair looks good, then I hope it’ll suit me, too. I just...want a change for once. I'm sure a lot of people would agree."

You almost frowned at that. Growing up, Armin rarely came out of his soft shell, known as the small-framed and timid boy who was overshadowed by his best friend's tenacity when his brains were the only asset at his disposal. Although he seemingly had long grown out of that shell and pushed past that shadow, you knew better.

"Are you doing this for Annie? Armin, I know I've said this before, but don't ever feel like you need to change for somebody."

Him changing himself to fit someone else felt wrong.

"I know, but this is for me. It's only a haircut, nothing big."

Despite the guise of a smile he put on, despite the way he'd brushed it off, deep down, he was still the insecure boy you grew up with. But if he truly was as honest as he sounded and wanted this for himself, then you wanted it, too.

"If you say so. Then I guess you're right. Either way, I think you're going to look great. Annie is definitely going to notice how amazing you look."

When you turned to him, you didn't realize he was already staring at you. He hurriedly shook his head and shied away from your stare with a soft chuckle. His lips parted to say something, but you didn't give him the chance before you butted in.

"I still can't believe it. No more long hair. It was practically a part of you." You eyed him, or rather, his hair. "This is a big deal."

He let his fingers run through his locks, twisting and brushing the strands away. "Yeah. Everyone will be so surprised."

It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but you butted in again. "And thanks for always driving me, by the way. You're always picking me up, even if I have a car."

His one hand came to frantically wave you off while the other fumbled with turning the wheel. "No, it's okay. I'm always the one asking you to pick you up, anyway. I like driving you." He smiled.

Before you could thank him, it was his turn to cut you off.

"We're here."

All of your previous doubts about Eren and Mikasa and the initial shock of Armin's announcement flew out the window and into the sunny skies.

The anticipation was unbearable. The two of you were now parked in front of the barbershop, and Armin was about to get his haircut.

You were going to be the first to witness it.

All you registered when you walked in was the sound of the bell’s chime, and you then found yourself sitting knee-to-knee with Armin as you waited for his appointment, looking down at his phone while he swiped back and forth on his screen.

Armin stilled and tilted his phone towards you. "Do you think I should go with this photo?"

"Yeah, it looks good. Or better yet, you could show them a pic of Professor Ackerman."

His expression became a mix of what seemed like embarrassment and bewilderment before he stammered, "What?! No—no way, I'm going to look like a fool. Professor Ackerman is practically known by everyo—"

You gasped and instantly slapped your hand against his shoulder, or rather, what you thought was his shoulder, but instead, you smacked him square in the face. He jolted back in shock and didn't have time to blink before you redirected his head. "Look! Your barber is ready for you."

Armin stood up, glancing back and shooting you an incredulous look. You only sheepishly mouthed sorry to him in return.

You waited until he sat down before you took your eyes off him. Armin Arlert was about to cut his hair to the shortest length it's ever been.

Now, all there was to do was to wait some more.

In the meantime, you needed to text Eren back, which you had forgotten to do earlier. You saw that Armin had already replied, likely sometime after you walked in and before you two sat down.

Armin: Sorry, I was driving

I’m with y/n right now

We can't make it for drinks, but dinner sounds nice!

You: eren whats the address?

we’ll be there for sure

Hopefully, you would. Free dinner, right?

Minutes later, Eren responded.

Eren: [Current Location]

It looked like they were there already.

You quickly tapped on the link to his location and a restaurant named "Trost's Kitchen" came into view. You had only ever eaten there twice in your life: one time as a child with your family and the second time as a high school student to tease Jean at his part-time waiter job.

If Armin's session went by fast, then you'd be able to drive there with just enough spare time to eat before Eren and Mikasa finish their meals. You amused yourself with how they would react to Armin's hair. Shocked? Confused? Hell, you hadn’t even seen it yourself yet.

For the next few minutes, all you did on your phone was text and scroll.

No, scratch that, you had fallen asleep.

Someone tapped you.

You didn't realize how much time had already passed. Definitely more than those measly few minutes that you spent texting and mindlessly scrolling.

After groggily blinking, your eyes trailed up to find the culprit.

Before you stood a new man.

What was once silky, smooth hair down his neck was now a sleek undercut and cropped short to his ears—just how he wanted, and you could now see his jawline and the innocent skin of his neck. He still kept his bangs, though, which were blonde and neat on his forehead.

You must've been staring too long because Armin nervously looked to the side.

His hand suddenly went up to his face, clasping around your wrist. You didn't even realize that it was there. It had just subconsciously occurred to you that you should reach up and softly intertwine your fingers with his golden locks.

You never noticed how round his cheekbones were, how softened his cheeks looked, or how much of a sharp jawline he had.

Hair really could change a person, huh.

And to your surprise, you had overlooked something even bigger than his new hair. As you followed the undercut to the curve of his ears, you narrowed your eyes at the empty space. He wasn't wearing his glasses. Nothing sat on the ridges of his ears. No thick, black-rimmed lenses around his eyes—nothing but his wispy, blonde lashes that fluttered with each blink. He must've taken them off during the haircut.

Armin seemed to have worked up a ripe, dusky blush with the way you were gently caressing him. His ears flushed a sweet shade of pink, too, just like his cheeks.

"God, you look so good." Your hand withdrew from his head. "You're really attractive, Armin."

You took one more thorough look at his face.

He looked mature.

He looked...hot.

Armin couldn’t seem to decide between meeting your eyes or looking away as you gazed at him. His face reddened when he lopsidedly smiled and squeaked out, "Thank you."

Your hand interlaced with his and you beamed brightly. "Let's go. Have you paid?"

He nodded with a smile.

Then you two were out the door, and when you looked back, his glasses were already back on.

"So...why did I have to come again?"

His eyes flitted to his hand, enclosed by yours. "Um, moral support, I guess...? I don't know. I just felt like you should be the first to see it. I wanted you to be here because it made sense with our... agreement ."

The sky had become a myriad of pretty oranges and yellows, but the blues barely peeked out from behind gray clouds. It made the sunset a little too murky, too pitiless, and too sullen for a summer evening.

"About our agreement..." By now, you two were fastened into your seats and out of the parking lot. "How did you want me to help you?"

He spared you a glance. "Truthfully, I'm not sure. I know you have experience, so however your past lovers got you to like them, apply that to me and Annie."

"So, are you and Annie close?"

"No, we're not that close."

"Do you at least talk to her like you talk to me?"

Lines between his brows formed as he drew them together, his vivid blue eyes flickering aside in confusion. "What do you mean...?"

You shook your head and dismissed him with a wave. "Nevermind."

Surprisingly, Armin didn't press on. You didn't, either. Instead, you turned to your phone.

You: on our way

It wasn't long until you reached Trost's Kitchen. It only took a couple of minutes that had passed by way too fast because you were busy jamming out to songs after he gave you the aux.

The two of you stepped out. It was warmer than you expected, especially after the comfort of the car's air conditioning, and the sunset had long faded away into the night.

You: we're here

Neither you nor Armin exchanged any words on your stroll into the restaurant and merely enjoyed the comfortable silence that you two always seemed to slip into. You were met with the shade of the portico and the chime of bells as Armin opened the door for you.

The bustle of conversation and clank of silverware greeted you at once. You briefly raked your eyes over the rows and rows of tables.

"Okay, wow, it's really busy here," you muttered.

You wanted to send one last text before you deemed yourself too clingy. By now, Eren would've already replied like he usually did on outings like these. Even if he did frequently ignore your messages, you knew that he wouldn't put his phone down until everyone had arrived.

You: please tell me you got a table for four

As soon as you sent that text, Armin nudged your shoulder.

"Y/N? Look..."

In a far corner of the dining space, you saw a woman with short, black hair that you knew all too well and a man with messily tied up brown hair that you knew even better.

Mikasa and Eren. At a two-seater table.

What was only a downward tug on your lips deepened into a frown when you watched them get touchy and enjoy themselves. Had they always been this touchy?

"Kinda looks like they're on a date," you noted.

Armin’s eyes didn’t stray from them when he asked, "You okay, Y/N?"

"Yeah. Let's just get a table."

To your luck, there weren't any available tables near them. At this rate, it'd be a miracle that you'd be seated anytime soon. With the line of people in the reception area and the rows of occupied tables, you almost considered eating somewhere else.

"You might just be overthinking it. It's okay, Y/N, I promise. It just...looks like what you think it looks like."

You gave Eren and Mikasa's general direction one more gander before you allowed Armin your full attention. "Nah, I don't think you're seeing what I'm seeing."

His lips pursed into a thin line. "No, I see. I'm sorry. Do you want to go to a different place, then? I'll pay."

You thought about the texts you had just sent. Wouldn't it be weird to just disappear? You were disappointed, but you didn't feel like interrupting the two at the table. Not that you had much of a choice, anyway—not with packed guests and the long wait. 

"I don't know. We came all this way and I told Eren we'd come." you sighed. "But it's better if we find another place. We can tell the others later."

Before you, Armin extends his hand, and all it's doing is insinuating you should leave. "Okay. I'll make it up to you.  Let's go, then."

He was all honeyed words and lopsided smiles, so you didn't hesitate, not even a bit, to take his hand. As you're leaving and talking, you let him draw you closer to the sound of his calming voice. 

Under the ghostly evening lights of the restaurant front, you clutched onto the sleeve of Eren's sweater with your free hand as Armin pulled you away with the other.

Chapter Text

Nighttime had fallen at a snail's pace—so horribly and painstakingly slow to the point where you had nothing to do at home but remind yourself about the fact that you had disappeared on Eren and Mikasa. Even worse, you'd left right after your last few text messages, specifically the one saying you had been there .

So far, nothing from either of them. You wondered if they'd even read what you had sent.

The moment you decided to finally apologize and fill them in on your whereabouts, your phone suddenly rang. 

A call from Eren.

Oh, speak of the devil.

It had been two hours since you'd last seen him and since you'd last left with Armin. You hastily picked up his call with fumbling fingers.

"Where are you? "

His voice echoed loudly from your palms, gruff and agitated. He sounded more angry, more frantic than you were expecting, and you instantly felt the guilt creep into your veins. You would've called him sooner if Armin hadn't been engrossing you in an embarrassing story that he told a little too loudly at your restaurant table.

"I'm at home," you answered plainly.

"Sorry, I meant, where were you? Why'd you two leave Trost’s Kitchen? "

You wondered how he knew that you'd left their restaurant. It didn't take an idiot to take a look around and see how that all of the tables were occupied, but the confidence he spoke with unsettled you.

If he knew, then why hadn't he said anything earlier? You didn't blame him, though. He looked like he was having a good time. In fact, you hadn't texted for the same reason.

You were convinced it was as if he called you because he just wanted to hear the reason for himself—as if he insisted you had been somewhere else other than your home.

As if he'd expected you and Armin to run off.

You suddenly blanched at your thinking. You were sure the more rational reason was that Eren probably realized how busy and packed Trost's Kitchen was.

Jabbing at your volume button, you quickly explained, "I'm so sorry, Eren. The line there was long, so Armin and I ate somewhere else. I forgot to tell you earlier."

Then, nothing.

Nothing but the static of your phone and the distant hum of your air conditioning. 

You were so, so guiltily aware of the silence on the other end of the line.

Glancing at your screen, you finally heard Eren's breath hitch amidst the drone of white noise. Then, a breath of hesitance.

"Oh really...?"

He paused.

"You two are always leaving us. "

This time, you paused. Pressing your lips together, you let your entire face simmer into a slow confusion.

Always?

In the split second before you had left Trost's Kitchen, you hadn't been the slightest bit hesitant to leave, not when Armin had been holding out his hand so invitingly, but a greedy, Eren-shaped inkling inside of you had told you otherwise—told you that you would've been willing to stay.

You hadn't realized you were holding your breath until long after he'd finished his sentence.

Always…?

His words rang in your head again. You could clearly hear the disappointment in his voice and vividly picture that twitch of dejectedness on his face when something upset him.

"Eren, what do you mean?"

"You two just…always leave together. Out of nowhere ."

He stopped himself for a second, and you could only assume he was ruminating over his words.

"Never mind, actually. It’s okay, don’t worry. We can eat together next time, okay? Night, Y/N. "

Was he truly upset? You didn't think it was that big of a big deal, nor did you think he'd care. Things happen, right?

"Night, Eren."

You couldn't tell who hung up first.

Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe you were too caught up in the scene, saw them both together, and ran with it. Maybe it was a friendly outing and that was the just nature of their friendship—when they were alone, at least.

The nature of their...friendship.

God, you were starting to overthink again.

How could you not when you had witnessed Eren, your best friend (who you liked a little more than a best friend), and Mikasa, your other best friend, getting along in a way that suggested they were more than friends?

Not that you had gotten uselessly butthurt and let it ruin your night, but it wasn’t something that you had expected.

You sighed. Today's evening ended in a certain guilt that you couldn't seem to scratch off. You guessed it’d be better to leave it alone. The night offered you good things, too, like Armin getting a haircut and treating you to dinner.

You needed to thank him for that some more. He had kept true to his words, made up for leaving, and bought you your favorite meal—without having to ask you where and what you wanted to eat.

Armin was such a sweet friend, wasn't he?

"Y/N, you can choose."

As soon as you had gotten off work the next day, you were quick to accept Armin's offer for a movie night. He was at your apartment to pick you up in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a short visit to the supermarket for movie snacks turned into a long rendezvous to fulfill Armin's grocery shopping list. You were hoping he'd stop once you'd passed by the same frozen foods section for the third time, but he continued his trek down the aisle one more time.

Now standing blindly in the middle of a different aisle, you peered at the shelves of big-branded, colorful chip bags. From the corner of your eye, you saw Armin fiddle with a price tag holder as he awaited your response.

"Let's get these," you suggested, extending your hand.

Before you had the chance to pull the bag from the shelf, he reached it first, plastic crinkling in his hand as he tossed it into the cart.

"Good choice," he chimed.

The shopping cart was moving now, rattling in tandem with the taps of his shoes and the mellow syllables of his voice. Your steps fell into a rhythmic pattern next to his own.

Armin turned to you with a smooth grin. "Do you want to eat my mom's cooking tonight, or do you prefer we buy something? We can order your favorite again."

"Your mom's cooking, for sure. I've missed it."

He beamed, eyes creasing cheerfully at the corners. "I'll make sure she makes extra, then."

Armin sounded excited, almost boyish, and you could see the young, childish, long-haired Armin peeking through the cracks of his innocent smile.

As your eyes flitted away from his wide grin and creased eyes, you were reminded of his short hair. You didn't think you'd ever get used to his new haircut, or if you'll ever be not surprised when you see him. It was so weird—but so good.

He looked pretty.

You two were a short stroll away from checkout when you spotted someone you knew, lingering on their phone just a few steps past the cashiers and near the joint Starbucks cafe. Someone with a familiar head of buzzed hair and a stupid, lopsided grin.

"Connie?" you blurted, earning you a weird look from Armin. "Look over there. You wanna say hi?"

The cart rolled to a slow stop, metal rattling against the friction.

“That means he's going to be the first to see my hair."

You watched him run nimble fingers through his blonde tresses. A few odd strands stuck up comically, but if anything, you thought it made him look cuter. His face, strewn together with worried brows, fluttered closer to what you think was trepidation. And maybe, just maybe, you began to see a trace of familiar insecurity.

"Armin, are you still set on it being a surprise?" you jabbed. In return, he smiled shyly, as if you caught him in the act.

"It won't be a surprise after Connie sees. You know he won't keep quiet." Armin chuckled and shook his head. "I'm going to check out first. I'll meet you guys over there."

The smile he waved you off with was angelic. It pulled gently and sweetly at the corners of his lips, but…it was avoidant. Avoidant and insecure at the thought of someone seeing him.

You didn't get a chance to reciprocate it before he walked off.

"Connie!"

At the call of his name, Connie perked up, eyeing you as you strode to him. He was quick to shoot you an eager, crooked smile.

"Y/N? You're here, too? Didn't expect to run into you." Holding onto his Starbucks cup and still smiling, he tapped your arm as a sign of a friendly greeting.

Before you could even muster a reply, your mouth shut quickly, and you were met with the cold, wet feeling of his cup against your skin. You looked to your side, seeing water pellets trickling down the slope of your arm, wet from the condensate of his Starbucks drink.

In front of you, Connie burst out laughing, leaving you to glower at him.

You wiped at your damp arm with a grimace. "You dumbass," you chided.

Connie only laughed harder, loud and hearty, relishing your sour expression. "Sorry."

He most definitely was not sorry.

You glanced around, hoping that he'd either calm down or laugh quieter because he was attracting an unsettling amount of onlookers from the Starbucks nearby. Neither of those things happened when you hear the sound of Connie's "oh shit!" and the clamor of noisy ruckus and plastic.

You looked down. Connie had just dropped his store-bought container of rotisserie chicken.

Now, it was your turn to laugh. "Connie, why the hell do you have a whole rotisserie chicken?" You had seen it earlier, previously wedged between his arm and torso, but it had now fallen to a sad spot on the supermarket floor.

He rolled his eyes. "You already know Sasha is a pig."

You stood there stupidly with an equally stupid smile, shifting in your shoes as you scrutinized the way he picked up the container from the floor. Something weird always happened when you were around Connie.

"Oh yeah, Y/N, wanna come to my apartment on Saturday?"

You shot him a suggestive look, raising a brow. "Alone?"

His face twisted wryly, and he scoffed at your insinuation. "No! With everybody! Unless ..." he challenged, but quickly shook his head when you clicked your tongue. "I was just about to tell the group chat. You coming?"

"Yeah," you began, watching him abruptly swivel around when the barista called his name. "I'll be there."

"That's my order." He motioned to the coffee shop, then glanced at the cup that was already in his hand. "I forgot to get Jean's drink."

You sighed. "You're so dumb that it's laughable."

He pretended not to hear you, but you saw that not-so-subtle eye roll. "Whatever, I'll text you the details, okay? See you!"

And Connie was off.

And you were suddenly startled by a voice behind you.

"Hi, Y/N. Connie left?" Armin shuffled up next to you, pushing the shopping cart that was now filled with grocery bags.

"Mhm," you hummed, "He just left."

"Aw, that sucks."

"Did you purposely avoid him so he wouldn't see your hair?"

He strolled past you, barely letting you catch a glimpse of his faint, smug, and cunning little smile. "No. Why would I do that?"

But the warm, sheepish laugh that betrayed him gave it all away. Like a contagious melody to your ears, you couldn't help but laugh along as you caught up to him.

The moment the two of made it past the exit doors, you were abruptly struck with the late-afternoon sunlight.

Summertime had been pretty relentless lately, and you never did like the hot weather. You were willing to push past that hate to enjoy the peaceful afternoon, but everything was far from your goal of peace. You couldn't quite shake off the downcast of bright light, the incessant screech of the rattling shopping cart against the bumpy pavement, and a new nagging thought in your head.

The walk to his car felt...oddly domestic.

You wondered if Armin was aware of it too, the way he coincidentally threw you a glance. You ignored the scrutiny of his curious eyes and faced ahead.

Attempting to distract yourself from your weird thoughts, you turned to Armin. "Connie wants us to hang out at his place on Saturday. We should go."

He nodded slowly in thought, lips curling into a pleased expression. "Sure. I'm free."

Against your better judgment, you disregarded how off-putting his smile looked, and how ominously his eyes glinted beneath the afternoon sun.

"I'll go anywhere you go," he affirmed.

His almost affectionate answer didn't phase you, not in the slightest, not until Eren's words from last night suddenly came crashing down on you.

You two are always leaving us.

Maybe Eren was right. Armin did seem to follow you wherever you go, and you to him. Even when he asked to hang out, you agreed in a heartbeat, and with Armin's admittance, there was nothing to deny about Eren's observation.

God, it really does seem like it, doesn't it?

You realized how much it had happened recently. Armin following you down Eren's stairs when you left to turn up the air conditioning. Armin taking you home after a day of cleaning at Eren's house. The two of you ditching Eren and Mikasa at the restaurant.

Oh, god, another wave of realization.

The air conditioning. Eren's backyard porch. Where it all started.

"Armin?"

"Yeah?" he mirrored, sparing you a curious blue-eyed glance, blinking away the glare of sunlight ricocheting off his pupils. He leaned in ever-so-subtly, attention tuning into you.

"Do you remember last Saturday? When we fell asleep at Eren's house?" You could see your silhouette in the reflection of his pupils, and you could only hope your worry didn't translate onto your face. "What did you say to Mikasa and Eren before you followed me?"

As the shopping cart took a sharp turn toward his car, it fell silent. The only indication that he heard you was his contemplative stare and the hesitant tremble on his lips.

"Um..." He pulled the trunk open, misty blue eyes distant and unblinking. "Nothing. I didn't say anything. Why? Did something happen?"

Eren's words resurfaced in your head once more.

You two are always leaving us.

You paled at the looming insinuation of you and Armin doing something more—being something more, and how it might've seemed that way to Eren. Knowing that Armin hadn't said anything and left on his own accord make it all the more suspicious.

You and Armin wouldn’t be anything more, right?

The rustle of plastic brought you back to the blonde boy beside you, absentmindedly sliding the shopping bags into the trunk.

Lifting a plastic bag from the cart, you dismissed his question, "No, nothing happened."

His lips curled into an understanding smile. At least, that was what you hoped it was.

Trunk slamming shut, you quickly shuffled away to open the passenger door, Armin following suit on his side. Before you could even fully sit down, you peered out the driver's window just in time to witness Armin getting knocked forward by the neighboring car door.

You heard a muffled " Ah! " escape his mouth as he clutched the shirt fabric of his back, and you didn't have time to register your initial shock when the culprit stepped out with hands over her mouth.

Hitch?

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!" you heard, although still muffled, from inside the car.

Armin swiftly turned around, his shock replaced by even more as they met eye-to-eye.

"Hitch?" The corners of his lips twitched in surprise, bows furrowing incredulously.

Hitch returned his expression, eyes widening until you swear her lashes touched her eyebrows. She leaned closer to his face as her mouth hangs open. "Armin? Oh my God. You got a haircut? I haven't seen you in so long.”

Instinctively, his hand went to grasp his hair. "Oh, yeah...!"

Breathing out a soft laugh, she grinned. "Wow, it looks great. This is really different."

This was a strange situation; you were stuck inside Armin's car, listening and watching as he spoke to Hitch (meeting her was a coincidence in itself) while she was clueless about your presence. In a supermarket parking lot, no less. If Connie were still here (which was a coincidence that you'd met him here, too), it would've been a lot weirder.

Armin pressed his lips together into a shy smile as the apples of his cheeks reddened, discreetly flickering you a nervous glance through the car window. "Thank you," he mumbled.

At this, Hitch shook her head. "You're so cute and innocent. Still the same as ever."

You smiled to yourself. What an unusual compliment. You were sure she meant no harm, but judging by the tension in his stance and the reluctant twitch at the corner of his lips, you started to think it wasn't so harmless.

The moment he opened his mouth to reply, she quickly turned to the sound of her name being called from behind her.

"I gotta go now." She gestured to her friend. "What a coincidence we met here, right? See you, Armin."

With a slow, sure smile, Armin finally eased from his awkward position, offering her a friendly wave. "Yeah, see you."

He shot her one more glance, and then you were suddenly hit with three things all in the span of what you swore was just a second: the door clicking open, the door shutting close, and the shuffle of his thighs hitting the seat.

"What a coincidence," you echoed.

For a moment, it was quiet, only the distant rattle of metal shopping carts and the slamming of trunks. Armin stilled, tense hands hovering the wheel almost ghostly, shrewd eyes unblinking and staring into nothing.

"Is that how people view me?" Armin's voice rang out, a clear tenor resonating in the calm silence. His hands were now away from the steering wheel and instead shoved inside his pockets, fishing for his car keys.

As the jangling and clattering filled your senses, you were left with no other option than to question him. "What do you mean?"

He wedged his keys into the socket, twisting until the engine whirred to a start, overlapping the sound of his exasperation. "Is that how people view me? I'm just so...I'm so cute and innocent. I don't want that. I don't—I don't like that."

You finally saw it now. You saw the shell—the fragile, little shell that he hid behind all this time. It was so clear, so telling, so reminiscent of the timid boy that used to cling to you when his insecurities deluded him.

"It was nice to hear these types of compliments at first, but it feels demeaning now, as if...as if people are looking down at me and seeing some weak, geeky, innocent kid that doesn't know any better. Makes me feel...inferior."

God, you felt bad. You'd be a fool for not catching onto his self-esteem issues— everyone would be a fool for not catching onto his self-esteem issues, and yet no one did anything. It was there, lingering, but never long enough nor clear enough for a real conversation.

You turned away with a frown. "Then, what do you want to be seen as?"

He inhaled sharply, but his final breath is barely audible to you, fluttering out in a hesitant rhythm. His eyes were trained on the road as he squinted and pondered over his words.

This was the second time this week that you were wrapped up in a personal conversation in his car.

Remind yourself to be careful next time.

"I don't know. Just not what I am right now," he muttered. "I want to be confident and, and—"

For a quiet moment, you listened to Armin stumble over his words. And when he finally gulped, he continued in a weighty whisper as you leaned in.

"Not a nerd. Not a lame, good kid. I want to be appealing. I want to be seen in a confident light. In a—in a sexual light." He was almost gulping down his words, shy and uncertain and...embarrassed.

And you, on the other hand, felt your cheeks involuntarily heat up. There was nothing inherently dirty about his words; it was just that you wouldn't have guessed he wanted to be like that.

With a long sigh, you replied, "I understand you, Armin. Um, I've known you felt this way for a while."

You had to know. You were aware of his image. After all, you had seen him grow up, seen the way he talked to people, heard all the things people said about him. Being close to him, you were privy to a lot of his thoughts, a lot of the sides that most people didn't see.

Except for this one.

The romantic, sexual side of Armin. Gosh, you didn't think there was one. Not yet, at least. You needed to be the person who helped him build it.

Even as you pondered what'd he'd be like (Would he get a lot of attention? How would he talk to people?) your thoughts abandoned you and drifted back to that guileless, pure, pretty-boy face of his.

Maybe you were just like Hitch. Just like everyone else.

When you didn't hear him answer, you felt an aching jab of regret swell in your gut.

"Armin, how about…" You clasped your hands together, playing with your thumbs as you cast him a glance. “…we work on it right now?"

"Wh—"

The car suddenly swerved.

You yelped. It sent you rocking to the side, pressing you against the door momentarily and leaving you steadying yourself on the dashboard.

"Armin!"

"Wait, what ?"

He sounded worried, voice faltering and cracking a pitch. He looked like he saw a ghost, wide, frantic eyes and mouth agape in a way that confused you as you sat dumbfounded.

"What was that?!" You snapped your head towards him.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry! It's just that—" He frowned nervously, apprehension washing over his face. "Work on what? W—what do you mean by that?"

You sent him a quizzical look, one that almost mimicked his, as he brought a nervous hand to scratch at his neck. "What do you mean?" You jabbed an accusing finger at him.

"Um, you said we should work on it. I thought you—thought you meant...me being seen in a sexual..." he stuttered, cutting himself off as shame seeped into his red cheeks. His mouth was pressed together, and his hand quickly came to card through his hair anxiously. " Oh, God. Never mind."

Oh my God. You felt your face heat up and flush, and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the dirty weight behind his words. He was next to you, shoulders tense and a flustered frown, and you instinctively averted your gaze to the window beside you.

"No, no! I mean, like, we can work on your confidence!" You shook your head. Gosh, how do you even recover from this? "You know, practice talking."

"Oh, oh. Yeah, um, we can do that. I'm so sorry," he rambled, a deep—almost shamefully deep—blush still dusting his cheekbones. Armin rolled his shoulders in what seemed like an attempt to relax, and you unconsciously mirrored him in turn.

"Okay, first, from what I saw with you and Hitch, make eye contact. It's just good to engage, and you'll look more confident. Simple, right?"

"Eye contact. Got it.”

"Let's practice, then." You humored him with a challenging stare. "Right now."

"Right now? But I'm driv—"

"Now."

His head immediately swiveled to you, and Armin briefly met your gaze, fear etched into his crinkled eyes, but the moment ran short-lived before the car swerved slightly. Again.

"Sorry! I got nervous." Admin's worry quickly dissipated into agitation. "I shouldn't have listened to you, Y/N,” he sighed.

You burst into laughter, releasing your hand from where it was clutching the door. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to mess with you."

Armin huffed in regret, but his pressed lips soon succumbed to that familiar, genuine smile. You knew he was weak to your jokes.

"Okay, you ready for the next thing?" You looked at him for affirmation, and he gave you a cute nod. "Next, talk to people like you already know them, like you're already friends. I guess just...try to open up."

"How?"

"Hm, you can tell them about yourself. Depending on the situation, try filling the other person in on what just happened. Don't be afraid to joke around and be sarcastic. But, still be nice about it, you know, be you ."

"Oh, okay okay." 

"Oh! And another little thing, mirroring is good. If someone asks you a question, ask it again, and then answer it. It's more of like a teasing thing."

As the familiar array of brick walls and wood paneling and colored roofs filled your field of vision, you realized you were in Armin's neighborhood now. It was peaceful here—it always had been—and you were suddenly reminiscing about your childhood weekends playing on Armin's front lawn.

"I'll use you and Hitch as an example. You'll be Hitch, and I'll be you, okay? Ask me if I got a haircut."

He chuckled and flashed you a curious look. "Okay. Did you get a haircut?"

"A haircut? Yeah, got it yesterday. Feels weird, I've never had my hair this short before."

Armin's head drooped in laughter—and maybe embarrassment, bringing a hand to push back his bangs as he lifted his head. "Wow, amazing acting, Y/N." The car lightly rocked when he turned into his house's driveway, and his eyes drifted to your expectant stare.

"What, you don't like my haircut?" Your lips curl into a frown, and you batted your eyelashes innocently, a likely awful attempt at pleading. You cocked your head to the side.

He briskly shook his head, stammering, "No! No, I think it's great! Wait I mean—" Armin caught himself, smiling and laughing bashfully to himself as he twisted his car keys from the engine. It whirred to a baritone stop. "This isn't even real." He laughed.

His laughter contaminated you, sweetly ringing through your ears. "See, those are the kind of jokes you should make. It sort of flusters the other person. But don't do the face I made. That was a joke."

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Armin grinned wryly. "Trust me, I won't."

Before unbuckling yours, you punch him lightly in the arm. "Real funny, Armin. I like this sarcastic side of you."

The two of you stumbled out of his car, and the snap of the trunk door, the click of the doorknob, and the ruffle of grocery bags all passed in a moment you barely remembered.

Nighttime approached, and this time, it fell much faster and much more pleasantly than yesterday.

With the hours ticking by, you found yourself snuggled next to Armin, arm-to-arm and thigh-to-thigh beneath the weight of soft blankets and the drone of the TV. Some typical, cheesy romance drama. It was your last resort really, and he insisted that you both watch something new.

Armin was mindlessly holding the bowl of chips, fingers laying loosely around the rim as the contents almost tipped over. But you didn’t fix it; instead, you reached out a hand and plucked a chip from the bowl. He looked disoriented, almost entranced—a little too entranced—by the television screen.

By now, his parents had been long asleep. It was just you two in the dim light of his living room.

Just the two of you.

God, you were a hypocrite.

After what felt like an hour of stillness, you finally broke the silence.

"That's going to be you and Annie one day." You pointed at the screen.

Armin stole a glance at your face with sleepy, lidded eyes, pupils shrinking and dilating in the change of light. He peered back at the TV. It was the main couple, who finally kiss after a million episodes. The scene was corny, fake even, and the actors barely looked like they were really kissing.

He snorted. "That's if I get her to even fall for me. I doubt I have what it takes." A sigh slipped from his lips.

"Armin, I don't know what you're so insecure about. I know you have what it takes. And you're good-looking, too, okay?" You ran a hand through his blonde locks. "Promise."

Armin sank into your touch, the weight of his head heavy in your palm. "Feels good when you say that," he murmured.

An unconscious, courteous smile rose to your lips. A beat of silence passed, long enough for you to zone back into the show.

"Y/N?"

You craned your neck to him. "Hm?"

He was already facing you, nose a hair's breadth away from yours. Something curious swam beneath his pupils, startlingly intense and illuminated by the blinding light of the television.

"Would you—" He pulled away tentatively, gulping hard, and then he was quickly back onto you, inching even closer. This time, you feel a ghost of a touch grazing the tip of your nose.

Here it was.

You knew it was coming. You knew he was going to ask you a question—something so personal, so heavy—that only seemed to unfurl when you and he were alone. And you could do nothing but push aside the growing anxiousness that gnawed at your thoughts.

A breath of nervousness, and he resumed.

"Would you ever help me...physically?"

It came out in a hushed, uncertain whisper. His breath swept over your lips, a feeling that made you realize how intimate this was—how you two were so, so close.

You felt your eyebrows raise, because of the short distance from your lips, the way he gulped—the way you gulped, you were starting to think this might lead to something else. He only inched closer.

"What—" you stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not really experienced in that—in that, you know, that kinda stuff." His eyes, bright and blue, slowly dragged down to your lips, then back up instantly. There was a new fear in his pupils, like he wasn't supposed to do that. "And—and I don't want to seem inexperienced in front of Annie."

At this point, you averted your gaze, but you didn't move. No, you wouldn't dare.

"Y—yeah," you breathed. "I would."

His face lit up, so subtle that you only caught it because you were this close to him. And it was warm—it was warm, his hand that was gently and carefully sliding onto your thigh. He looked so pure, so friendly. If friends even do this. 

"Really?"

You didn't even realize you had said yes. Your mind was clouded, teetering a fine line between hazy and even hazier. Your heart palpitated against your chest.

His lips ghosted over yours. No, even closer than that. Your lips were just scarcely pressed against each other, almost like the drama scene you’d just watched. 

It was going to happen, and you'd willingly let it happen. You closed your eyes.

And then you heard something buzzing.

Your eyes snapped open, and your gaze landed on the caller ID displayed on Armin’s phone, the brightness of its screen harsh against the darkness of the room.

A call from Eren.

No fucking way.

You reeled back in a daze, fingertips tingling with the aftershock of nervousness. You gripped the blanket with your other hand until it numbed the sensation, hoping it would ground you from what just happened.

Or what almost happened.

And Eren just called. How ironic.

Armin was a little ways off from you, cursing lowly under his breath as he accepted the call. But you sat there. You didn’t listen; their words filled your ears like cotton.

Armin shifted farther from you, head leaning into his phone. The blanket slipped down a little, and a chill ran up your spine and a wave of goosebumps hit you. Goosebumps that you swore had already been there from before. 

Was this it? Was this the practice he was referring to in the car? 

No, no, definitely not—you knew he meant much more. 

If you learned something today it was that one, you'd gotten a good scope of how he was with a girl, and two, you'd been a breath away from kissing.

From kissing. You almost kissed Armin Arlert, your best friend that you promised to help.

You pursed your lips.

Y—yeah. I would.

You couldn't go back on your word now.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his.

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch.

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time.

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed.

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down.

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him.

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away.

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face.

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.”

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes.

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief.

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now.

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would.

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation.

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead.

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous.

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line.

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued.

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?”

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away.

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?”

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that.

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.”

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again.

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him.

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow.

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body.

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet.

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy.

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin.

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same.

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner.

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth.

You were the first to pull away for air.

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again.

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed.

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.”

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what.

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought.

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going?

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again.

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest.

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do?

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?”

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise.

“No…”

“Then what?”

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache.

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing.

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares?

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now.

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world.

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.”

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his.

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words.

“Can I carry you?”

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal.

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer.

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.”

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms.

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.”

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly.

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste.

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot.

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss.

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved.

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way.

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards.

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh.

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good.

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant.

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing.

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms.

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly.

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs.

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him.

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs.

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?”

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.”

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself.

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples.

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs.

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples.

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts.

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust.

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties.

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once.

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it.

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less.

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips.

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand.

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?”

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.”

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers.

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.”

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine.

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.”

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it.

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly.

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly.

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that?

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.”

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling.

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you.

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently.

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.”

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body.

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt.

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked.

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso.

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.”

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed.

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins.

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away.

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.”

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers.

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.”

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first.

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again.

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was.

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties.

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you.

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting.

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before.

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?”

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.”

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body.

“I know.”

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked.

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.”

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again.

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before.

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face.

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit.

“You wanna move down now?” you asked.

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face.

“Show me how.” He said, adamant.

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth.

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was.

“Just like that,” you whispered.

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further.

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.”

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy.

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out.

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed.

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.”

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot.

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing.

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking.

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds.

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist.

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled.

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan.

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter.

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.”

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised.

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped.

The coil snapped.

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole.

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine.

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next.

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets.

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute.

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy.

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.”

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.”

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge.

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes.

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth.

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue.

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed.

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you.

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next.

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness.

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?”

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face.

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly.

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?”

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs.

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.”

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids.

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.”

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit.

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.”

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands.

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package.

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end.

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing.

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up.

“I think so.” He nodded.

“Want to do it?”

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.”

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him.

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them.

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck.

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again.

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing.

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine.

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.”

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch.

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him.

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.”

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity.

You had.

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out.

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated.

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown.

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy.

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more.

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue.

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good.

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him.

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand.

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit.

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes.

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you.

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways.

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin.

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine.

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.”

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment.

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting.

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good.

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.”

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit.

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck.

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him.

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow.

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips.

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with.

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you.

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force.

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole.

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend.

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body.

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore.

He smirked down at you.

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked.

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!”

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat.

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides.

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy.

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes.

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight.

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath.

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process.

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened.

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple.

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you.

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face.

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex.

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to.

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something.

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out.

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.”

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled.

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard.

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him.

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.”