Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Shit…” Armin muttered to himself, the word barely surfacing over Professor Hange’s rant about how changing magnetic fields induced electric currents. It was unlike his mind to wander during class, especially during a Physics lesson, but when something was troubling him, he was prone to spacing out.

The blond glanced once more at the phone screen hidden underneath his desk, a spreadsheet displayed upon it. It was probably his hundredth time looking at it that day, and yet the mental strain increased with each examination.

Since he was young, Armin Arlert had only ever had one defining dream: to go to outer space. At first glance, it seemed like a childlike fantasy—going to the moon, riding in a rocket ship, and meeting aliens—but to him, it had always felt like more than that. Outer space was vast and greater than the world he knew. He wanted to break through the atmospheric walls of Earth and explore the world beyond. So, he had set his heart on becoming an astronaut. But with each passing day of adult problems, such as financial struggles, that dream seemed to fade like an old, cherished photograph—still valuable and just as nostalgic, but now worn down, with no signs of returning to its original state.

His glasses began sliding down his nose as he bored daggers into his screen. The spreadsheet was a carefully calculated estimate of all the money he would need to spend on his pilot’s license and flight school: $40,000. How badly he wished the 1,000 hours of aircraft flight experience were only an optional requirement for becoming an astronaut.

Where am I even supposed to get that much money from? Tutoring and getting paid to do people’s homework is only enough to pay for my necessities.

There was the option of asking his grandfather, but that idea was shot down instantly out of guilt. How could he ask the man who had given him everything, from a roof over his head to the clothes on his back, for even more?

“Would you look at the time? I guess that’s a wrap on Lenz’s law for today, folks! And before I forget, I know you all aren’t English or writing majors, but all professors have been asked to promote the National Sina fiction writing contest for college students. There’s a cash prize of $10K and your manuscript gets published, ooooh exciting. Alrighty, have a lovely day, people!” Hange laid down the infographic poster she had been reading from regarding contest details and waved goodbye to her students, who immediately began packing their bags. She was never able to speak in short, simple sentences; once she opened her mouth, you always had to brace yourself for a 30-second-to-hour-long rant.

Armin perked up at the mention of $10K. Was this a sign sent from above? He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and, in one swift motion, neatly tucked his notebook and pencil case back into his bag, swung it over his shoulders, and nearly skipped over to Professor Hange’s cluttered desk.

“Mr. Arlert! Were you looking to discuss today’s topic like last time? Oh! Or is it another one of your clever inquiries that makes me pull an all-nighter researching the answer—cause hell, sometimes I don’t even know the answer, or maybe—”

“No,” he interrupted hesitantly, feeling bad for doing so, but he knew the more he let her go on, the less time he’d have to get to his next class, which, fortunately for him, was on the opposite side of campus. “I actually was wondering how I could find out more details regarding the contest you just mentioned.”

“Ah, I see! Didn’t know you were a writer, Mr. Arlert. If you need a proofreader, I’m just a quick email away. Here you go.” She slid the infographic poster in his direction. All the details she had read aloud before were visible in bold text, with a QR code printed at the bottom. He scanned it with a hopeful smile.

He called out a sincere thank you to his professor as he made his way over to Intro to Propulsion Systems.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“And considering how long writing a book can take, May 1st seemed like a reasonable deadline,” Arlert explained to his gothic best friend as she grabbed her third plate of sushi from the conveyor belt beside them.

Eren, who had just been on his phone moments ago replying to his numerous unopened snaps from that day, placed it down. With a mouth full of California roll, he replied, “Half yuf evfah efeh rifen ah fook befoh?”

Mikasa frowned. “Eren, don’t talk with food in your mouth, you’ll choke.” She scolded, turning her attention from the blond to the brunette. She leaned over the table and attempted to wipe a stray grain of rice from the corner of his lips. He swatted her hand away, adding an unnecessary eye roll.

After finally swallowing, he repeated, “I said, have you ever even written a book before?”

Before Armin could reply, Mikasa interjected with, “Sure, he has. Remember that fanfiction he wrote about the blue-haired girl from Neon Genesis in 10th grade? I checked last month, and it’s still thriving. Really impressive, Armin.” In response, his face reddened. Four years later, and they still wouldn’t let him live that down. On the bright side, the Patreon he had set up for it still sent him the occasional payout.

“Regardless,” Armin continued, straightening his posture, “I should be able to do this. I mean, sure, this has to be publishing-industry-level writing, but if I can do rocket science, I can write a novel.”

“You are capable of amazing things, and you have more than half a year to write it, so I’m sure you’ve got this,” Mikasa consoled in her usual, seemingly disinterested voice. But after knowing her for so long, he knew she always meant her words.

“Hell yeah, you got that shit,” Eren added with a nod of approval.

The corners of his lips couldn’t help but turn up at their encouraging words. Mikasa and Eren were two of the very few people he would miss when he hopefully went into orbit someday, so he cherished every moment with them in the meantime.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Armin groaned, the sound of his swivel chair creaking, as he threw his head back dramatically in frustration.

After dinner with his friends at the sushi bar, Arlert had sat himself at his desk immediately to begin brainstorming plot ideas for his contest entry, which was at 7 PM. It was now 11 PM. The blank document before him seemed to taunt him, insisting that every idea he manifested was unoriginal or stupid. He felt gullible for letting himself believe it would be as easy as writing fanfiction.

A knock at his door shook him from his spiraling state. “Come in,” he called out.

“Still working on that shit?” Yeager huffed with an amused eyebrow lift, a red solo cup in hand, and his eyes half-hooded from his drunken state. The brunette stumbled into their shared room before flopping onto Armin’s bed, mistaking it for his own.

“I take it you’re done partying for the night?” Arlert muttered in response, absentmindedly twirling a strand of his own hair.

“I dunno, I might go back downstairs. It’s nice partying without you breathing down my neck like a fucking nanny.” Eren sighed, biting down on his hair elastic as he attempted to redo his bun. The red solo cup was now discarded on Armin’s nightstand.

Armin rolled his eyes. From the moment Eren had mentioned that he wanted to join a fraternity in the last month of 12th grade, Armin knew the boy was doomed. He had only barely maintained his decent grades with his raging party addiction in high school, so there wasn’t a chance Armin would let Eren lose himself in the constant in-house parties frats offered—especially with the significant difference in workload that college had to offer. Thus, the reason why Armin Arlert was in a frat.

“I might actually lose it.” The blond scoffed, somewhere between a laugh and an exasperated exhale. His hands slammed on the desk before him, causing the vase of campanula flowers to tremble from the motion. His eyes immediately darted to the bouquet as if apologizing to the inanimate object for his outburst. He steadied the vase with careful fingers, whispering, “Sorry.” Even the smallest quake could send everything he had built tumbling down.

He inhaled sharply. “This just needs to be perfect. My dreams depend on it.”

“Are you talking about the contest again?”

The boys jumped simultaneously at the sudden additional voice, both their heads whipping to the doorway, only to find Mikasa standing there with an arm of an absolutely wasted Sasha slung over her shoulders.

“Mikasa, what the hell? Why do you have to be so creepy all the time—lurking around like the fuckin’ boogeyman,” Eren snapped at the poor girl.

Whenever Mikasa was planning to finally confess her undying feelings for Eren, it was as if Eren himself had a sixth sense for predicting it. So, he shielded himself with a wall of bratty and plain rude behavior toward her, a defense mechanism born from fear of ruining whatever they were. Because, as much as Eren Jaeger preached that one must face things head-on, his hypocrisy prevailed through this weird limbo he played with her.

This week, unfortunately, was a failed confession attempt week.

“Armin,” said his black-haired friend, brushing off Jaeger’s harsh words, “coincidentally, after dinner today, I found out my friend Y/N is joining the contest too. She’s one of the best writers I know. Maybe you could ask—”

“Y/N WOOHOO! I LOVE THAT GIRL!” Sasha blurted, awakening like a sleeper agent hearing their code word. Within the same instant, the brunette girl returned to her limp and hammered state.

Y/N. It wasn’t the first time Mikasa had brought up that name in conversation. It had to be the only friend of hers that Armin wasn’t familiar with, couldn’t even put a face to. From what he could recall, Y/N was an English major in their year who had shared a general ed class with Mikasa during freshman year, and they still talked to this day.

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing the name. “Do you think she would mind if I talked to her?” he asked hesitantly, rubbing his palms against his jeans.

“No. You can find her in the library sometimes,” the ravenette replied, barely leaving a beat between his question and her answer.

“Y/N WOOHOO! I LOVE THAT GIRL!” Sasha hollered again, earning a concerned look from Armin, Mikasa, and even Eren, who had been curled up watching Instagram reels.

“I need to get this girl back to her dorm,” Mikasa deadpanned. “Before I go, Historia wanted me to pass the word in case you didn’t see the group chat. She was able to rent the theater for 8 PM tomorrow. Night, sweet dreams… ₑᵣₑₙ.” Armin could have sworn he heard her whisper Eren’s name under her breath, but he brushed it off and waved them goodnight.

“Who’s going tomorrow?” Armin asked, his gaze still fixed on the doorway where Mikasa and Sasha had just disappeared.

“Uhhh—Historia’s girlfriend, Connie, Sasha, Jean, Marco, Reiner, Bert, Annie, and Y/N,” Eren read off the group chat before pocketing his phone and hopping off the bed.

There it was again. That name. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the same night Mikasa suggested he meet Y/N, he also found out he’d be meeting her regardless tomorrow. Armin took Mikasa’s judgment as gospel. If she said this girl was a good writer, he’d believe her. Besides, he was nothing if not an auditory learner, so talking to an alleged expert like Y/N might be the push he needed to finally get a head start on this contest.

His blond brows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“Back downstairs. The party’s still going.”

“Eren,” he groaned in pure annoyance, “it’s nearly midnight and you have 5 AM practice.”

“Yeah, and you have to stop being a pussy and get off my dick.” With that, Eren and his attitude vanished out the door, not forgetting to slam it on his way out.

Armin exhaled deeply while shutting his laptop, thoughts wafting through his mind like a hefty gust of wind carrying a pile of autumn leaves. It would all work out, he continued to reassure himself over and over like he always did. Still, a line from The Little Prince lingered, one that had stayed with him ever since he read it back in elementary school: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

The stars might have been his motivation, but if he wanted to win this money, he knew it wouldn’t be wishes alone that carried him there. It would take responsibility, and a shit ton of work.

Chapter Text

Armin had a formula of sorts for how many books he could read at once and what kind they had to be. There had to always be at least three on his roster: one nonfiction, one fiction, and one poetry collection. He read three books every two weeks, averaging seventy-eight a year.

So there Armin stood, in front of the Maria Fritz library, his most recently finished books tucked under his arm: Hidden Figures, Les Misérables, and Ocean Vuong. The clock read 7:29 a.m. The library opened at 7:30.

He adjusted his glasses and glanced at the sky, a mental run-through of that day’s schedule playing in his mind like a film.

"Good morning, Armin," called a softer voice behind him. He turned to meet the gaze of Ms. Rall, the campus librarian. Her shoulder-length ginger hair was tucked back into a claw clip, and her arms were crammed with two binders, three books, and what must have been a matcha latte from Colossal Cup, the school’s café.

"Ms. Rall," he said, wasting no time in rushing to her side to take some of the load from her. She initially waved him off but soon after caved at the sight of his overly polite persistence and allowed him to take the books and a binder.

"Thank you so much. Were you here for your bi-weekly book exchange?" she asked, fiddling with the keys from her bulky tote bag. In response, he nodded thoughtfully.

"Did you enjoy last week’s trifecta?" she grinned, pushing open the grand redwood doors before them.

"Yes, I did. This may have very well been the best three books I’d read this year," Armin hummed, following behind the librarian as they entered the cool and refined atmosphere of the Maria Fritz library.

She chuckled at his words. "You say that every time."

"I just keep finding better books," he beamed, setting down the books and binder onto the front desk.

"Well," she began with an affable air, "once I’m all settled in, I’ll come and check in on you to see if you need any help or recommendations for your three newest finds." Armin hummed in acknowledgment, then made his way up to the second floor.

He was in search of Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, recommended to him by his History of War and Strategy teacher, Mr. Smith. He had taken the elective out of curiosity freshman year and had never regretted it.

Once he found the shelf of authors beginning with F, a figure in his peripheral vision caught his eye.

Curled up on a bean bag, snug in a corner, was a girl fast asleep with a fully opened laptop before her, perched on the ground as if it had been dropped. Her mouth hung agape as she snored lightly, drool pooling vaguely at the corner of her lips. She was beautiful, in an indescribable way. There wasn’t an exact feature that made him think so; she just was in his eyes. Even as she lay there snoring like a foghorn and drooling like an infant, Armin couldn’t seem to shake the thought—that was, until he realized he and Ms. Rall were the first people to enter the building. So this girl, whoever she was, must have slept the entire night in the library.

Had she fallen asleep by mistake, or was this on purpose? He couldn’t help but wonder. Regardless, instinct urged him to wake her up, and so he did. Reluctantly, he reached over and tapped the girl’s shoulder lightly—no reply. So he did so once more, only this time with more rigor. The girl stirred before her E/C eyes shot open, colliding with his own blue ones, and suddenly the library felt like a heartbeat between them.

Her initial expression of alarm almost seemed to soften for a moment when meeting his gaze. At that same moment, Armin couldn’t seem to control the way his mouth fell slightly agape at the way her features seemed to bloom before him, delicate as if painted by Monet.

Realization suddenly struck the nameless girl as she gasped, "Shit, I fell asleep, didn’t I?" She jolted up in her seat and frantically scanned the perimeter. The sudden change of demeanor was too quick a transition for Armin; he was still trying to process the motions he had just been put through seconds before.

"Is that why you woke me up?" she guessed with a polite, equally awkward smile. Her tone was light but expectant, as if urging him to say anything at all.

Her words pulled him from his trance as he regained composure and replied, "Yes, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind. I just wasn’t exactly sure if you were purposefully crashing here or if it was a mistake, so I—"

"Hey," she interrupted, her hands meeting at stomach level in a soft, almost apologetic stop, "no worries at all. I appreciate it." She hesitated, fingers weaving together as if to fill the space her silence might leave. "Armin, right?"

His eyes widened, and his breath hitched. His composure slipped, shoulders stiffening under her gaze. Was he supposed to know her? He would have remembered. He should have remembered. But her voice carried his name with such casual certainty it felt like she’d plucked it straight from him.

"How did you—" he began, the words falling from his mouth like liquid from a tipped glass.

A third, more alarmed voice abruptly joined the party. "Y/N?"

They turned to meet the concerned gaze of Ms. Petra Rall, her head tilted curiously to the side and a hand resting on her hip.

Y/N. So this was her. The girl Mikasa had been praising, the one he’d been quietly looking forward to meeting without even realizing it. His chest tightened. Of course, it had to happen like this—catching her mid-sleep, while he stood there like an idiot, gawking. She was nothing like he’d pictured and yet somehow much more real, unpolished, beautiful in a way that made his thoughts scatter. Had he already ruined his first impression? The question gnawed at him, but it didn’t stop his eyes from lingering on her, as if she might slip away if he blinked.

"Ms. Rall, I’m so sorry. I can explain," she blurted, hurrying to Petra’s side.

Y/N launched into her defense, words tumbling over each other. Petra just listened, patient and amused. Armin stayed a few steps back, fidgeting with his scarf tassels, unsure what to do.

Then, with sudden urgency, Y/N scooped her laptop from the floor, slung her previously discarded tote bag over her shoulder, and breezed past him in a blur of motion.

Just before the staircase, though, she stopped short, turning back to him with the faintest smile, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag as if grounding herself.
"Thank you again. I’ll… see you later," she said, her voice softer now, almost careful.

And then she was gone, darting out into the morning rush.

Armin stayed rooted where he was, scarf tassels slipping through his fingers. His pulse beat unreasonably fast for such a fleeting exchange, and her words replayed in his mind, looping until all he could think was: I get to see her tonight.

Chapter Text

Armin couldn’t think straight.

Every moment since their encounter in the library, Y/N had woven through his thoughts like a song stuck in his head. She wasn’t just another pretty face; far from it. There had been something about her, a quiet significance, an allure that tugged at him in ways he couldn’t name.

He kept replaying it: the way she startled awake, the soft smile she gave before rushing off, the sound of her voice saying his name. His name. How had she even known it? The thought alone made his pulse quicken. He tugged absently at the tassels of his scarf as if they could ground him, but they didn’t. Not when he already knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else that night.

“Armin, are you even listening?” Eren’s voice had cut through his thoughts, sharp with frustration. Armin blinked, realizing he had been staring at the same sweater in his drawer for too long. He turned to meet his friend’s furrowed brows, catching sight of Eren tugging a hoodie over his head.

“You’re so out of it today, dude. What’s going on?”

Armin had opened his mouth, then shut it again, realizing he didn’t actually have an answer he was willing to share. Telling Eren about what had happened at the library that morning, the girl, the way she’d said his name, the way she occupied his thoughts, it felt like lighting a fire he wasn’t ready to deal with. There were benefits to letting him in, but the relentless teasing and endless questioning that came with it easily outweighed the pros.

Instead, he had given a small shrug, the kind meant to pass for casual but only making Eren glare harder. His friend grumbled something about waiting in the car, then disappeared shortly after.

Armin knew he would eventually cave in and tell Eren about his trivial crush, but in the meantime, he wanted to hold onto this one thing, unlike everything else in his life that he instinctively shared with his two best friends. Withholding this one secret made it feel all the more special, like a treasure only he had the map for.

His blue eyes flicked to the alarm clock on his nightstand, its red digits blaring 7:45 PM. He needed no more reason to hurry up and get dressed for the movies.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Like a dog waiting by the door, Armin watched the movie theater entrance with an attentive air, not wanting to miss Y/N’s arrival. He subconsciously tightened his grip on his Superman-themed popcorn bucket, catching the attention of Sasha, who had been eyeing it ever since she had finished her own in just five minutes.

“Hey, ’Min, what’s wrong? You seem super tense,” she questioned, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

Connie, who had only been a foot or so away, had overheard the brief interaction and mirrored his friend’s consoling gesture, with a mimicking undertone. “What’s wrong, baby boy, what’s got you tweaking?”

“What? I’m fine, nothing’s wrong, what makes you think that?”

“’Cause you look like a kid who lost his mom at Target,” Jean chimed in shortly after, taking a sip from Marco’s extra-large slushie. Marco glanced at Jean, then at Armin, switching from an expression of slight annoyance to concern.

Before Armin could fumble for a decent excuse, the entrance doors slid open, and in walked Y/N, scanning the lobby with Annie by her side. Armin’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening once more around the rim of his popcorn bucket.

The sudden change in him hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sasha, Connie, Marco, and Jean followed his gaze, then collectively blinked.

“Ahhh,” Connie whispered dramatically, elbowing Jean. “Now it makes sense. Bro’s geeking ’cause Annie just showed up.”

Jean smirked. “Hopeless ass.”

Sasha nodded in agreement, though she frowned at Armin’s wide-eyed stare. “But, wait, are we sure he’s looking at Annie?”

Armin wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His ears burned as Annie and Y/N drew closer, talking casually with each other, completely unaware of the crisis unraveling in his chest.

Marco tilted his head, observing Armin. “Whoever it is,” he said softly, “he’s down bad.”

Will she say hi? Or ignore me? We’ve only ever interacted once, so maybe she isn’t comfortable enough to make the first move. In that case, I’ll say hi—

“Hi, Armin.”

“Oh!” he choked out in pure surprise, nearly dropping the popcorn bucket in the process. His mouth opened, then closed again. What came out was a strangled half-sound, something between a squeak and a word that never formed.

Y/N blinked at him, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Well… enjoy the movie, Armin. I’ll see you around.”

And with that, she walked past him to the concessions, Annie falling into step beside her without a word.

The second they were out of earshot, Armin’s stomach dropped straight through the floor.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

He dared a sideways glance, and Sasha was shaking, biting her lip so hard it was a wonder she didn’t draw blood. Connie was doubled over, silently hitting his knee in pure disbelief. Jean was smirking like this was the best entertainment he had had all week.

Connie finally lost it, choking out between laughs, “Bro, you’re cooked.”

Jean leaned closer, snickering, “Did you fucking queef through your mouth? What even was that?” Sasha muffled her laugh into her palm, and her eyes glistened with tears.

Armin wanted to melt into his fleece sweater; he had been so preoccupied in his own thoughts that he had messed up the one thing he had been looking forward to all day.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Historia Reiss had been loaded, most likely the richest girl in school. Even so, she had been keen on weeding out who wanted genuine friendship and who had only been in it for the money and the countless perks of befriending a rich girl. The group of college kids sitting in the theater’s sixth row for the eight o’clock showing of Superman were, in fact, true friends, people who had passed her judgment as genuine.

By the grace of God, Armin found himself sitting next to Y/N—the universe had granted him a chance at redemption, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

He sat wedged between Mikasa and Y/N, while she leaned comfortably against Marco on her other side. From the way her eyes glistened as she talked with him, it was clear the two were close. Their conversation flowed without awkward pauses or overlaps—a model friendship. Armin couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take him to reach that same ease with her.

“But I just couldn’t get past the fan service. Like, honestly, it was overwhelming,” she sighed, stealing a sip from Marco’s slushie. Armin thought back to fifteen minutes earlier, when Jean had done the same thing; at this rate, Marco’s slushie was communal.

“That’s exactly why I dropped it. Halfway through episode two, I just clicked off. I can only endure so many boob shots, you know?” Marco quipped, plucking a gummy worm from Y/N as his tax.

Then her gaze dropped to the popcorn bucket in Armin’s lap. “Could I get some?” she asked lightly.

He wished to be close enough for her to just take it, the way she did with Marco. Still, he reminded himself, they barely knew each other. With time, hopefully soon, the formality would fade and she’d reach straight in without hesitation.

Armin nodded a little too quickly, thrusting the bucket toward her. “Yeah, of course. Take as much as you want.”

Her fingers brushed his as she grabbed a handful, and he froze. It was nothing, barely a touch, but his chest still gave a weird little jolt.

“Thanks,” she said simply, popping a piece into her mouth before turning back to Marco. The conversation picked up without missing a beat. Armin, on the other hand, remained in the moment, replaying it in his head like it mattered more than it should.

A row behind him, Sasha had caught the exchange and smirked knowingly. Jean leaned closer to whisper something, but Armin ducked into the shadows of his sweater, praying the dim theater lights were enough to hide the red crawling up his neck.

In his peripheral vision, Armin caught a glimpse of Mikasa perched on Eren’s lap, his hands combing through her hair a little too naturally. He suppressed an eye roll. It was one of those nights, the kind where his two best friends ignored Eren’s fear of commitment and instead gave in to their undeniable pull toward each other, playing at being friends with benefits. It had started back in senior year and, to Armin, had been just as nauseating ever since.

Before he could sink too deep into that thought, Y/N’s gasp cut through the theater. “Oh my God, this is what I was telling you about!”

She clearly wasn’t talking to him, but it didn’t matter. His attention snapped back, following her gaze to the big screen where a trailer for an upcoming film played. His chest tightened; it was one he had been anticipating for months.

“I love you, but you know how I feel about sci-fi,” Marco sighed, earning an eye roll from her.

And before he could second-guess himself, the words slipped out of Armin’s mouth. “Did you read the books?”

The moment stretched. Y/N’s eyes flicked toward him, catching his in the glow of the screen.

“Hell yeah, I read the books. Which one’s your favorite?” she beamed, leaning the slightest bit closer to Armin. The faint scent of coconut drifted off her, oddly soothing.

“I’d have to say the third one, honestly. It’s the most lore-heavy, especially with the way we learn more about the civilization’s history.” He rambled a little, watching her carefully for signs of boredom—but was relieved to find only interest.

“Oh, yeah, that one’s pretty good. But I’m more of a character-driven story person, so I’d say the second book is my favorite.”

“That’s valid. Who’s your fav—”

“Shh, the movie’s starting, you freaking nerds,” Ymir snapped from 3 rows above them, one brow arched as she slung an arm lazily around Historia.

“Sorry,” the two mumbled in unison, shrinking into their seats before exchanging the kind of look friends gave each other after a teacher called them out for laughing at the wrong time. They stifled soft snickers, then turned toward the screen.

But Armin didn’t want to watch the movie, not yet. For once, he wished the previews would drag on forever, just so he could talk to her more about the series. He chewed the inside of his lip, trying and failing to concentrate.

Chapter Text

Two thoughts played in Armin's mind as the theater lights turned on: the movie was mediocre at best, and he definitely wasn't leaving in the same car as Eren and Mikasa. Especially with Eren's hand placement on her lower back as they stood from their seats, and the telling look Mikasa gave Armin as they began to gather their stuff.

"I'll just catch a ride with someone else," he sighed before his best friends thanked him for being a team player, smiled, and then thanked Historia for the night.

Jerks.

"Oh, you need a ride?" chimed in Y/N mid-stretch, a small pop from her shoulder blade following her words.

His initial reaction was to simply stare at her, as if waiting for the girl to revoke her offer, but instead she stared back, waiting for his next words.

"I'd really appreciate that, thank you." He exhaled, his eyes wandering to the floor sheepishly, seemingly too embarrassed to meet the girl's gaze.

A small smile played upon Y/N's glossed lips as she grabbed her car keys from the cupholder and nodded. "No worries, king, as long as you don't mind Annie in shotgun—"

"Y/N." Annie interrupted, her standard monotone voice cutting through the warm atmosphere.

The blonde continued, "I'm catching a ride with Bert and Reiner. We're going to Chili's, wanna come?"

Armin's stomach sank the slightest bit, but the feeling was brief as he watched the vaguest hint of unamusement gloss across Y/N's face.

"I'm not really hungry, but you guys have fun. See you back at the dorm, love you," Y/N replied, blowing the girl a kiss before turning for the stairs. In response, Annie rolled her eyes with upturned lips, then made her way over to the exit with her friends.

"Oh, what the hell, Eren and Mikasa are gone? Armin, you need a ride?" Connie asked from the floor—he had previously landed on his butt after attempting to parkour over a row of seats for whatever reason.

Y/N, who had just returned from thanking Historia and dapping up Ymir, trotted down the theater stairs and, from the bottom, yelled, "Let's go, Armin," earning the attention of Connie, Sasha, Jean, and Marco, who in return gave Armin a knowing look.

"Goodnight to you all," he deadpanned before trailing along behind his crush.

Hoots and hollers blared distantly from behind the door of Theater Six as Y/N and Armin walked side by side in the hallway toward the main entrance. It was quiet for a bit, save for the faint sound of other movies' audio seeping into the atmosphere, along with the jingle of Y/N's car keys. He glanced down at them and was immediately intrigued by the array of keychains on display, especially the Asuka one from Neon Genesis.

"You like my keychains?" she asked, taking notice of his staring as she held open the exit door for him.

"Thanks, and yeah, I really like your Asuka one. I didn't know you were a Neon Genesis fan." He beamed, examining her collection further to see if he recognized any other characters.

"Of course, bro, I love sci-fi." She chuckled in response, then motioned to the car before them as if to say they had arrived.

It beeped before unlocking, and Armin opened the passenger door and slid in. Inside, it was warm and smelled faintly like her mixed with cinnamon, which was most definitely the fault of the cinnamon air freshener hanging by her rearview mirror.

"Ugh, that reminds me," she groaned before shutting her door and reaching for her seatbelt.

"There's this freaking writing contest, National Sina, that I'm entering, and I'm having the worst writer's block right now. Like, I know I want a sci-fi novel, but everything I keep thinking of has been done before," she ranted. His eyes rested on her comfortably, as if they were always meant to be there.

"Oh," he returned to reality upon registering the conversation topic, "me too."

"You write?" she asked doubtfully, passing him a sideways glance as she reversed out of her parking space.

"Occasionally," he muttered, his eyes suddenly finding interest in the hands folded in his lap. The corners of her mouth upturned, and it didn't go unnoticed. He continued, "It's funny, 'cause Mikasa actually suggested I come to you for contest help."

A laugh escaped her as her grip on the steering wheel loosened. "She overestimates me. If anything, I'm the one who should seek help from you. What's your GPA like, a 10.0?"

He chuckled, a trail of heat not shying from his face at her indirect compliment. But there it was again, that strange suggestion that she knew of him. He had to address it now before the chance passed him by.

"I don't mean for this to come off as rude, but how do you know me?"

Her eyes flickered with an off-guard startle, as if that was the last thing she expected him to say.

"Mikasa talks about you pretty often, so I eventually asked to see a picture of you to put a face to the name, and yeah."

He examined her face as she, for some reason, seemed to be averting her gaze from his. The way she uncomfortably shifted in her seat, the switch-up was sudden and subtle. In an attempt to pull her from the state of awkwardness, Armin steered the conversation back to an earlier topic.

"So, about the contest..."

Her gaze softened and flicked back to Armin, then to the road. She hummed in acknowledgment, urging him to continue.

"I was thinking, and I know it's a lot to ask—this was just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, and you can say no—"

"Armin, just say it," she laughed.

"Maybe we could try entering together. I mean... co-write an entry. Is that stupid?"

It was quiet for a minute, and in those few moments, Armin began to regret every word that had just fallen from his mouth. Then Y/N slowly muttered, "That's not stupid at all."

His head whipped in her direction. He could practically see the gears turning in her head—about what, he wasn't sure. Before he could open his mouth again, she beat him to it.

"Wanna get something to eat?"

And how could he ever say no?