Naomi

infj 😋

[nanaxmoonx]

Nerd! Armin x Y/N

SPACE

—> In which a chaotic party becomes the backdrop for Y/N and Armin’s unexpected bond, revealing deeper feelings beneath their playful interactions.

warnings: Alcohol, Sexual content, Strong language

art by: @musapylsa

Reiner’s house was full to the brim—red cups, pulsing music, low light, and people pressed together in loud, chaotic groups. The smell of cheap beer and expensive perfume lingered in the air.

Y/N wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there.

She had shown up because of Ymir. Ymir had a way of dragging her into things she wouldn’t have gone to on her own, with a casual, “Don’t be boring,” and a quick wink before vanishing into a sea of people. Predictable. She hadn’t seen her since walking in.

Y/N’s plastic cup of something suspiciously citrusy was already warming in her hand. Her eyes scanned the room lazily—recognizing a few faces from campus, from shared classes or the cafeteria—but not really knowing anyone well enough to strike up conversation. She felt like a background character in someone else’s story.

Until she saw him.

At the far end of the living room, half-sitting on the arm of an abandoned couch, was Armin Arlert.

She recognized him instantly. He was in her Anthropology lecture. Sat near the front. The kind of guy who always had a pencil tucked behind his ear. Sharp, observant. Soft-spoken. Friends with Eren Jaeger.

Tonight, though, he looked slightly out of place. Dressed down in a fitted gray hoodie and ripped black jeans, glasses perched slightly crooked on his nose, a red Solo cup loosely in one hand.

He wasn’t surrounded by anyone. No girls clinging to him. No friends laughing nearby. Just him. Alone. Watching.

She might’ve looked away—maybe even walked off—if she hadn’t noticed him glance down, then take a sip of whatever was in his cup. Alcohol, maybe? Something about the way he drank made her pause.

Armin drank? She wouldn’t have guessed that. He didn’t seem like the type.

She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek, then looked around. Still no Ymir. Still no familiar faces. And honestly? Armin was the only one not shouting or posturing or mid-makeout on a couch.

So she crossed the room.

When she stopped in front of him, he looked up, surprised but not alarmed. His blue eyes flicked to hers, then away again—nervous.

“Hey,” she said.

He blinked, then nodded slowly. “Hey.”

There was a pause. Not an awkward one—just quiet. Neither of them seemed to know what to say first.

She gestured loosely with her cup. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Armin tilted his head. “Yeah. Same.”

She raised a brow. “You don’t strike me as a party guy.”

“I’m not,” he admitted, shrugging. “Reiner kind of… guilted me into it. He said I needed to ‘touch grass.’” He smiled slightly at that.

Y/N snorted. “Sounds like him.”

Armin nodded, then sipped from his cup again. He made a face—like it burned.

“Whiskey?” she asked, amused.

“Something close,” he replied. “I stopped asking after the first sip.”

“Ballsy.”

He smirked—barely. “Desperate.”

Another short silence. But it wasn’t tense. If anything, it felt… still.

Y/N looked around and then leaned against the wall beside him, her drink still half-full. “You’re in Anthropology, right?”

Armin nodded. “Professor Larson’s class. Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I sit three rows behind you.”

“I know.”

She blinked at that. “You noticed?”

He gave a sheepish shrug. “You always doodle in your notebook. Little flowers and faces.”

She stared at him, surprised. “You watch me draw?”

Armin coughed lightly, adjusting his glasses. “Just sometimes. When the lecture’s slow.”

Y/N didn’t know why that made her cheeks warm. She wasn’t used to being noticed like that—quietly, thoughtfully.

“What about you?” she asked, changing the subject. “What’s your major?”

“History and political theory.”

“Oh,” she said, mock-impressed. “You’re one of those.”

He raised an eyebrow. “One of what?”

“You know. The world’s-on-fire-and-I-can-fix-it types.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I used to be.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m just trying to pass midterms and not disappoint my advisor.”

Y/N smiled. “Relatable.”

Armin looked at her then. Really looked. Not just a glance or a flicker. His eyes held hers a moment too long, like he was still trying to decide what kind of person she was. It was almost unnerving—but not in a bad way.

“You’re friends with Ymir, right?” he asked suddenly.

That caught her off guard. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“She mentioned you once. Said you’d hate this party.”

Y/N laughed out loud. “She’s not wrong.”

Armin grinned, and for a moment, he looked younger. Softer. There was something behind his smile that made her wonder what he was like outside of classrooms and random parties.

“You two close?” he asked.

“Ymir and me? Yeah, kind of. She’s… weirdly good at keeping me out of trouble and getting me into it.”

He nodded. “She helped me pass intro logic. I owe her.”

There was another lull in the conversation, but this time, Armin filled it.

“Do you… wanna go somewhere quieter?” he asked. “I mean—not like that,” he added quickly, “just—my ears are kind of ringing.”

Y/N bit her lip to stop from laughing. He was adorably nervous, even though his words weren’t flirty at all.

“Sure,” she said. “I could use a break from the music and spilled beer.”

He smiled. And for once, it didn’t look uncertain.

-

They found an empty room just off the hallway — a guest room, maybe. Someone’s jacket was thrown over the desk chair, and the string lights drooping over the window glowed a soft yellow, casting everything in this muted haze that felt almost… calm.

Y/N stepped in first, then leaned against the edge of the desk, drink still in hand. Armin followed and gently closed the door behind him. The bass from the music outside thumped faintly through the walls, but in here, it was just the hum of quiet.

He hovered near the wall at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to sit or stand. She noticed the way his hand lingered at the back of his neck — that same gesture he did in class when he didn’t know how to answer a question.

“You can sit, you know,” she said, amused.

He finally let himself slide onto the bed, sitting near the edge, careful not to wrinkle the blanket. She couldn’t help but find it kind of sweet — how careful he was with things.

“So,” she began, “besides political theory and failing to enjoy parties, what else are you into?”

Armin looked thoughtful for a second, then let out a short laugh. “You mean like hobbies?”

“Sure. Give me something unexpected.”

“Hmm…” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “I like bad documentaries. Like, really bad. I watched one last week about competitive duck herding.”

She blinked. “Duck… herding?”

“It’s a real thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is. There were little obstacle courses and everything.”

Y/N shook her head, trying not to laugh. “That’s both the nerdiest and weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He gave a small grin, pushing his glasses up. “You asked for unexpected.”

“Touché.”

“What about you?” he asked. “What’s something most people wouldn’t guess about you?”

She paused. “I have a horrible taste in music.”

“Define horrible.”

“Like, early 2000s emo bands and girl group one-hit wonders.”

Armin looked impressed. “That’s a bold confession.”

“I stand by it,” she said, mock-defensive.

He leaned back a little, relaxing now. “I kind of love that.”

She smiled. “You’re not going to psychoanalyze me now, are you?”

“Tempting,” he joked. “But no. I’m off-duty.”

The room fell into a quiet lull again — not awkward, just… still. Like both of them were finally comfortable not filling every second.

Armin shifted a little. “I don’t really talk to girls much.”

Y/N glanced at him. “I kind of figured.”

“Was it that obvious?” he winced.

“No, not in a bad way. Just… you seem like the type who doesn’t fake things.”

He thought about that for a second. “I guess I don’t see the point.”

She looked at him carefully. “You’re kind of hard to read, though.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “I think too much. About what to say. About how things might sound. I’ve always been like that.”

Y/N sipped from her drink, letting the quiet settle. Then: “You don’t seem uncomfortable.”

“I’m not. I mean—I was. At first. But…” He looked over at her. “You’re easy to talk to.”

She smiled softly, surprised by how genuine that felt. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “High praise from a girl who has a horrible taste in music.”

She nudged his leg with her foot. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

His laugh was quiet but real.

She noticed then, in the soft light, that his features were sharp but delicate. High cheekbones, long lashes, a mouth that looked like it didn’t smile enough but knew how to when it counted. His glasses were slightly fogged, probably from the warmth of the room.

And—

Was that a tongue piercing?

She blinked.

He caught her looking, and for once, he didn’t seem embarrassed.

“Oh,” he said casually, “yeah. That’s new.”

“You have a tongue piercing?”

Armin looked almost smug. “Shocking, I know.”

“Wait, are you secretly a bad boy or something?”

He gave her a very mild look. “I got it on a dare.”

“From who?”

“Eren.”

Y/N let out a loud laugh. “That makes sense.”

“I was drunk. He said I wouldn’t do it. So I did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Like hell.”

She looked at him, trying to imagine quiet, careful Armin in some tattoo shop or back alley parlor, sticking his tongue out and regretting everything.

“That’s actually kind of impressive,” she said.

He shrugged. “I wanted to prove I could do something impulsive for once.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Do you regret it?”

He smiled. “Not tonight.”

Something about the way he said it made her breath catch a little. It wasn’t flirty, exactly — just… honest.

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she leaned back against the desk, legs stretched out slightly, the tips of her shoes brushing his. She let the moment hang there.

Armin was quiet too, just watching her — not staring, not trying to read her mind. Just being there. It felt strange how natural that was.

“Did you come here hoping to hook up with someone?” she asked, her voice softer.

He blinked at the question. “No.”

“Not even a little?”

He shook his head. “I came because I didn’t want to say no to Reiner again. I didn’t think I’d end up sitting in a room talking to someone like this.”

“Like what?”

“Someone who’s…” He hesitated. “…really interesting.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I’d like to.”

Y/N didn’t answer for a moment. She was looking at him differently now. Like something about him had shifted — not just the tongue piercing or the fact that he drank whiskey and watched duck herding. But the way he carried himself. Quiet, but grounded.

She let her foot press a little closer to his.

“Then ask me something,” she said. “Anything.”

Armin looked thoughtful, then asked, “What do you want?”

The question caught her off guard. “Right now?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N glanced at her cup, then at him. “I’m not sure. But I don’t want to leave this room yet.”

He nodded slowly. “Me either.”

The air in the room had shifted. Not in a dramatic way—no sudden spark or electric jolt—but in the slow, unmistakable way gravity shifts when two people begin orbiting one another. Neither of them moved, not really, but everything between them felt warmer. Closer.

Armin leaned back slightly, propping one hand behind him on the bed. His hoodie bunched around his arm. His other hand still held the half-full red cup, but he didn’t seem interested in drinking anymore.

Y/N sat still against the desk, her eyes on him—not piercing, not even curious, just…watchful. Comfortable.

“You ever feel like everyone else has it figured out already?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

He glanced at her. “All the time.”

“I look around and everyone’s doing internships or planning grad school. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to get through the week without crashing from coffee and panic.”

Armin smiled, small and knowing. “You don’t seem like someone who’s flailing.”

“Because I’m good at pretending,” she admitted. “I talk a lot. Joke around. But underneath, I’m just hoping I’m not screwing everything up.”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t try to fix it. Just nodded like he understood.

“I think most people are faking it,” he said after a beat. “Even the ones who look like they know what they’re doing.”

She looked at him. “And what about you?”

“I’ve always had a plan,” he said slowly. “I think I needed one to feel like I had control over…anything. But sometimes I wonder if I’m chasing something I don’t even want anymore.”

“Like what?”

“Being taken seriously. Being the smartest guy in the room. Having answers.”

“And now?”

He looked at her again, eyes softer than they had been all night.

“Now I just want to feel like I’m not performing every second.”

She let that sit between them. There was something vulnerable about the way he said it—unashamed, unguarded.

“I like this version of you,” she said.

He tilted his head. “Which one?”

“The one that’s not trying.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

Another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was gentle. Peaceful.

Y/N slid down from the desk, taking the few steps that brought her closer to the bed. She set her drink on the windowsill and sat beside him, their shoulders barely brushing.

She could smell his cologne now—clean, subtle, with something warm beneath it. Vanilla or cedar. Something that didn’t scream for attention, but stayed.

Armin didn’t move away.

She nudged his arm slightly. “Tell me something dumb.”

He looked over at her, amused. “Dumb?”

“Yeah. Something no one else knows. Something stupid.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “I name my houseplants.”

She laughed. “Okay. That’s a good start. Hit me.”

“There’s a fern in my dorm named Pascal. He’s dying. Slowly. I feel guilty about it.”

“Poor Pascal.”

“There’s also a succulent named Jojo.”

She grinned. “Like the anime?”

He gave her a mock-offended look. “No. Like my old neighbor’s dog. She bit me once.”

“I see,” she said, suppressing laughter. “Is that revenge?”

“Maybe.”

Her laugh was soft, and the sound made something tug at the corner of Armin’s mouth. He looked down at his hands, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

She reached for one—without thinking—and traced the edge of his knuckles. “You’re warm,” she murmured.

He glanced at their hands. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” she said, quieter now. “It’s nice.”

She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?” she said.

He nodded.

“Have you ever…been with anyone?”

The question hung in the air—not judgmental, not prying, just curious.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Not really.”

“Not even a little?”

He looked sheepish. “There was a kiss. Sophomore year. It was…brief.”

Y/N smiled softly. “Was it that bad?”

“No,” he said. “Just forgettable.”

She turned to face him a little more, their knees touching now. “You don’t seem like the type who’d want something meaningless.”

“I’m not,” he said quietly. “But sometimes I wonder if I missed out on all the messy parts. The weird, awkward first times.”

“You’re not missing much,” she said, teasing gently. “Most of the time, those are just stories you hope no one ever asks about.”

He chuckled. “Good to know.”

She was watching him again. The angle of his jaw. The way his glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose. How closely his lips pressed together when he was nervous.

He looked at her, and for a second, neither of them said anything.

Then he asked, voice softer now, “Can I ask you something back?”

She nodded.

“Do you regret coming here tonight?”

Y/N looked at him for a long moment before answering. “No,” she said finally. “Not anymore.”

Armin’s expression changed just slightly—relief, maybe. Or quiet surprise.

She reached out and pushed his glasses up his nose, gentle and unhurried.

“You have really pretty eyes,” she said.

He blinked.

“You probably don’t hear that a lot,” she added.

“I…don’t.”

“You should.”

They were close now. Not touching much, but their bodies were leaning in, mirroring each other. The space between them felt intentional, not accidental. She could feel the warmth coming off of him.

Armin licked his lips, slow. “You’re…really beautiful.”

She didn’t tease him for the way his voice caught. Didn’t laugh or deflect.

Instead, she said, “Thank you.”

There was another beat of silence. Then:

“Would it be okay,” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, “if I kissed you?”

Y/N nodded once. “Yes.”

The soft light of the room wrapped around them like a tender embrace, casting gentle shadows that flickered on the walls. Armin’s breath was shallow, his glasses catching the light as he leaned closer, lips barely brushing against Y/N’s. The world outside dissolved into silence, and all that remained was the subtle, electric hum between them.

Their kisses deepened slowly — not rushed, but deliberate, each movement a careful exploration. Armin’s lips parted just enough to allow a whisper of breath, his tongue teasing the edge of her mouth with shy curiosity. Y/N responded, her own lips melting into his, the taste of him intoxicating and soft. She could feel his tongue piercing moving along her own tongue.

His hands trembled slightly as they slid down the sides of her dress, fingers grazing the smooth curve of her ribs. The fabric was warm under his touch, but his skin was warmer still. His fingertips found the zipper at the small of her back, and he hesitated for a moment, heart thudding in his chest. He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, the uncertainty in his eyes mingling with a quiet hope.

“May I…?” His voice was low, hesitant, almost a fragile question suspended between them.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and without breaking eye contact, she nodded, the glow in her eyes telling him everything he needed to know — trust, anticipation, desire.

Slowly, reverently, Armin tugged the zipper down. The fabric slid off her shoulders like a whispered sigh, pooling softly around her waist. The cool air kissed her skin as the dress fell away, revealing delicate lace beneath — a bra that clung tenderly to her curves, underwear that traced the outline of her hips.

His breath caught as he took in the sight. She was breathtaking.

He tossed his own shirt aside, the fabric fluttering briefly before landing in a heap. His lean frame was almost fragile, pale skin taut over slender muscles, a quiet vulnerability made visible. A faint glint of metal from his tongue piercing caught the light as he swallowed nervously, the shimmer almost mesmerizing.

Armin’s fingers moved with both confidence and care as they reached behind her to unclasp the bra in one smooth, practiced motion. The straps slipped free, and the lace fell away, leaving her bare beneath his touch.

His lips found the sensitive skin of her left nipple with tender reverence, soft and wet. His tongue flicked lightly, sending shivers rippling through her body. At the same time, his other hand reached around to play gently with her right breast, fingers teasing the delicate skin.

„Armin…“

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his soft, chestnut hair, pulling him closer, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sensations sparked a fire inside her — every kiss, every touch was a silent promise, slow and deliberate, a dance of trust and tenderness.

Armin’s eyes fluttered closed as he savored the taste, the feel of her responding beneath him. He moved with a mixture of awe and nervousness — each gesture careful, as if afraid to break the fragile magic between them.

His hands slid down her sides, tracing gentle lines along her ribs, fingers trembling with excitement and uncertainty. He felt the quickening of her breath against his skin, the soft rise and fall of her chest, and it filled him with a fierce tenderness.

Slowly, his hand wandered lower, fingers brushing the edge of her underwear with featherlight touches. He paused, searching her face for permission, and found it in the way her eyes fluttered open, lips parted in a silent invitation.

Encouraged, he leaned in, trailing kisses down her neck — soft, warm, lingering — leaving a path of heat in their wake. His hands moved with growing confidence, exploring the gentle curves of her body, learning every contour as if committing it to memory.

Y/N pulled him closer again, her pulse pounding as the world around them faded. The quiet room was filled with the sound of their breaths mingling, soft sighs, and the faint rustle of fabric shifting.

Armin’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, tracing the smooth skin there with reverence. He paused, locking eyes with her once more, seeking the silent “yes” that danced in her gaze.

Her nod was barely perceptible but enough to steady his racing heart.

He smiled softly, his nervousness giving way to a gentle confidence as he slowly peeled the delicate fabric down her thighs and off, setting it aside like a treasure.

The moment felt sacred.

Armin moved to his pants, fingers fumbling slightly as he unbuttoned and slid them down. He was already hard to the point it hurt him. He pulled out the condom Eren had given him earlier, before vanishing with Mikasa, his hands trembling just a bit as he carefully tore the wrapper open with his teeth — the tiny crinkle loud in the quiet room.

His gaze never left Y/N’s as he rolled the condom down, fingers steadying despite the nervous energy buzzing between them.

With a final deep breath, he positioned himself at her entrance, the warmth of her skin pressing against him making his breath hitch.

He looked up, searching her eyes one last time.

“Are you sure?” His voice was thick with emotion.

Y/N nodded, a soft smile playing at her lips. “I’m sure.”

Slowly, gently, Armin pushed inside. The sensation was overwhelming — a tight warmth surrounding him, the slight resistance softening as she adjusted to his presence.

He moved with deliberate care, inch by inch, waiting, letting her breathe him in, feel him fully before going further.

„Oh fuck…“

Y/N’s fingers curled into the sheets beneath them, her breath catching and then settling into a slow rhythm.

Armin’s hands gripped her hips lightly, holding steady as he inched deeper, every nerve alive with sensation.

When he was fully inside, they paused, breaths mingling, the moment thick with intimacy.

He began to move slowly, a careful, steady rhythm. His thrusts were deliberate and tender, building a connection deeper than words.

Y/N’s soft gasps and gentle moans encouraged him, her body responding with growing warmth and openness.

Armin’s pace picked up gradually, each motion filled with a mixture of reverence and desire, their bodies moving together like a quiet dance.

„You feel so good Y/N…“

The room filled with the sounds of their connection — breathy sighs, whispered names, the soft rhythm of skin against skin.

Every thrust was a silent conversation, every touch a vow.

Armin’s nervousness faded as the intensity grew, replaced by a fierce determination to be present for her, to honor the trust she had given him.

Y/N’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer, her voice soft and breathless. “Armin…”

He smiled against her skin, whispering back, “You’re so beautiful.”

Armin’s rhythm quickened, his body moving with an urgency that was both desperate and tender. He buried his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, his breath hot against her skin as he whimpered quietly into her ear. The sound sent a shiver straight through her, her back arching instinctively as pleasure rippled down her spine.

The sensation was overwhelming — his voice, the pace, the way his body fit against hers. Her fingers dug into the firm lines of his back, holding on as her own climax began to surge. Her moans spilled out uncontrollably, each one growing louder as the pressure inside her built to a breaking point.

“You feel so good, Y/N… so fucking good,” Armin gasped, his voice cracking between ragged breaths. His words, raw and honest, sent her even closer to the edge.

Her hips met his, chasing the sensation, her entire body beginning to jolt as the pleasure overtook her. She was nearly there, teetering on the brink, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world.

“I’m… I’m so close,” she panted, nails raking lightly down his spine.

Armin let out a strained groan, burying it against her skin. “Me too… fuck—Y/N, you’re incredible… you’re so goddamn beautiful…”

That was all it took.

Her body tensed beneath him as her climax hit in a wave, shuddering through her with a sharp cry. Armin followed just seconds after, his thrusts turning uneven and sloppy as the intensity overtook him, his whole body trembling from the force of it.

He stayed inside her for a few moments, catching his breath, their chests rising and falling in sync. Then, with a soft, careful motion, he pulled out, gently holding her thighs as he did, making sure she was okay.

Y/N’s legs trembled beneath the weight of the aftermath, a flushed mess of breathless satisfaction. Armin looked down at her with wide eyes, awe written all over his face. Seeing her like this — wrecked, glowing, trembling from his touch — sent another thrill through him.

“Y/N…” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead, “you’re amazing…”