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Chapter Text

Genetically Yours (x Reader, Advanced Genetics Edition)

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, and the soft hum of the lab equipment filled the air as you walked into the genetics lab. This wasn’t just any day—today was the day your life would change forever. You’d been chosen for a highly classified research project, something the whole AP Bio class envied. The mysterious young prodigy turned half time professor Armin Alert had personally selected you, and now you had a chance to dive into the very fabric of life: DNA, the molecule that holds every genetic code, every secret of existence.

You tried to calm your nerves as you took a seat beside Professor Alert. They turned to you with an intense look in their eyes, the glow from the screen casting a shadow over their perfectly chiseled features.

“So, ready to talk about the wonders of heredity?” they asked with a half-smile, their voice smooth like silk.

Your heart skipped a beat as you nodded, taking out your notebook. “Of course, can’t wait to talk about Mendelian inheritance,” you replied, thinking back to the basics you’d learned about how traits are passed down. You knew about dominant and recessive alleles, how Mendel had cracked the code with his pea plants.

“Good,” they murmured, leaning closer. “You’ll need that knowledge today because we’re going to explore non-Mendelian inheritance. It’s not just simple dominant and recessive anymore—it’s much more complicated.”

You tried to focus, but their proximity made it difficult. You couldn’t let your mind wander; this was your chance to ace the unit.

“Let’s start with codominance,” they said, pulling up an image on the screen of a red and white flower. “In codominance, both alleles are fully expressed, so you get a flower with both red and white petals.”

You nodded, scribbling notes. “Like in ABO blood groups, right? People with AB blood type have both A and B antigens expressed at the same time?”

They looked impressed. “Exactly. Codominance is all about balance. But then there’s incomplete dominance, which is different.”

Their fingers danced across the keyboard, and another image popped up—this time, a pink flower. You tilted your head, trying to remember.

“In incomplete dominance, neither allele is completely dominant,” they explained. “The result? A blending of traits, like that pink flower. It’s the offspring of red and white, but neither dominates, so they mix.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, imagining them saying something about how “neither of us dominates,” but you shook the thought away. Focus! This was about genetics.

“And then we have polygenic inheritance,” they continued, breaking your concentration. “Traits like height, skin color, and intelligence are controlled by multiple genes.”

The idea of traits being determined by more than one gene fascinated you. “So, that’s why there’s such a range of skin tones, right? Because there’s more than one gene at play?”

They smiled, their gaze lingering on you a moment too long. “Exactly, you’re catching on quickly.”

You gave them a small smile, feeling your pulse quicken. The two of you were so in sync, like complementary strands of DNA, perfectly matched.

Before you could get too lost in that thought, Professor Alert turned back to the board. “Now, let’s talk about linked genes. These are genes that are physically close together on a chromosome and tend to be inherited together.”

You tapped your pen against your notebook, trying to keep up. “So, like how red hair and freckles are often seen together?”

They nodded. “Precisely. Because those genes are linked, they don’t separate during crossing over as easily.”

“Speaking of crossing over,” they said, their voice dropping a little, “it’s one of the most important parts of meiosis.”

Your breath caught as they leaned in. “Meiosis is the process that creates gametes, or sex cells. It’s like… a dance, where chromosomes swap pieces of themselves, creating genetic variation.”

They were close now, their gaze intense. You swallowed hard, wondering if they were about to say something that would make your heart race even more.

“And then there’s sex-linked inheritance,” they murmured, their eyes never leaving yours. “Traits that are linked to the X or Y chromosome. Like color blindness or hemophilia.”

The tension in the room was palpable. “Because males only have one X chromosome, if they inherit a faulty gene on that X, they don’t have another one to compensate,” you whispered, suddenly feeling very aware of the concept of chromosomes, of how they made you… you.

They smiled, clearly impressed again. “Exactly. You’re a natural at this.”

You tried to focus on the lesson, but your mind kept wandering back to how their voice sent shivers down your spine.

“And don’t forget about mutations,” they added, leaning back slightly, giving you a moment to breathe. “They’re changes in the genetic code, sometimes caused by mistakes during DNA replication or environmental factors like UV radiation.”

You furrowed your brow. “Mutations can be beneficial, neutral, or harmful, right? Like sickle cell anemia—it’s a mutation, but in some cases, it can provide resistance to malaria.”

“Right again,” they said, and this time their smile was full of admiration. “Sometimes, mutations can lead to evolution, shaping species over time through natural selection.”

You blushed under their praise, feeling a sense of accomplishment. But there was one last thing you needed to know.

“What about genetic engineering?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

They raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed that you were thinking ahead. “Ah, the future of genetics,” they said, leaning back in their chair. “With tools like CRISPR, we can edit the genome—cutting out faulty genes or adding new ones. It’s revolutionary, but with great power comes great responsibility.”

Their words hung in the air like a promise, and you felt a spark of hope. Maybe this was more than just a biology lesson. Maybe it was the start of something new, something you hadn’t even thought possible.

Chapter Text

The next day, you arrived at the lab, your thoughts swirling around the complex web of non-Mendelian genetics that you and Professor Armin Arlert had covered yesterday. You still couldn’t shake how close he’d been, how his blue eyes had locked with yours when he explained concepts like codominance and incomplete dominance.

As you opened the door, you spotted Armin across the room, scribbling something down on the board. His blond hair fell into his eyes as he concentrated, the sun casting a golden halo around him. He looked up as you walked in, offering you that soft smile that made your heart flutter.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle, but with a hint of excitement. “Ready for today’s lesson? We’re diving into epistasis and pleiotropy—they go way beyond Mendel’s laws.”

You dropped your bag onto the desk, trying to focus. “Epistasis? I remember something about how one gene can mask another’s effect, but can you explain more?”

Armin leaned against the desk, his face lighting up as he got into the subject. “Exactly! Think of it like this—imagine you’re trying to paint a room. One gene is in charge of choosing the color, but the second gene decides if you even get to paint the walls. If the second gene says ‘no,’ the first gene doesn’t matter, and the room stays blank.”

“Right,” you nodded, jotting that down. “So, one gene controls whether the other gets expressed. Like in Labrador retrievers, where the gene for color is overridden by the gene for pigment deposition?”

Armin grinned. “Perfect! That’s a great example. The gene that controls if pigment is deposited is epistatic to the gene that determines fur color.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself leaning in, completely captivated by how passionate he was about genetics. “What about pleiotropy?” you asked, feeling bolder as the conversation flowed.

Armin pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, clearly thrilled that you were keeping up. “Pleiotropy is when a single gene affects multiple traits. For instance, with Marfan syndrome, the same gene mutation affects the heart, eyes, and connective tissues. So, one small genetic change has widespread effects across the body.”

You thought about it for a second. “So… it’s like a domino effect, right? One gene messes up, and suddenly it’s not just your height that’s different, but also your vision and your bones?”

“Exactly,” Armin said, his smile widening. “You’re really getting this.”

The praise sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Thanks,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “It helps that I have a good teacher.”

Armin’s cheeks tinted a light pink at the compliment, and he cleared his throat, looking down at his notes. “You make it easy to teach. You’re… different from most students.”

Before you could respond, he straightened up, changing the subject. “Today, we’re also going to talk about genetic linkage and recombination frequency. Ever heard of the concept of genetic mapping?”

You blinked, shifting gears as you tried to remember. “Isn’t that about determining how close genes are on a chromosome based on how often they’re inherited together?”

He nodded. “Right! Genes that are closer together on a chromosome tend to stay together during meiosis, which is why they have a lower recombination frequency. This is how scientists map out genes, figuring out their locations based on crossover events.”

“So it’s kind of like figuring out which genes are BFFs and always travel together, and which ones are just acquaintances?” you asked, half-joking.

Armin chuckled, his eyes crinkling in that adorable way. “Exactly. Though sometimes even BFFs get separated during crossing over, which is why recombination happens. It keeps things interesting, right?”

“Interesting is one way to put it,” you replied, your voice teasing.

The two of you continued the lesson, the air between you filled with laughter and quick-witted comments. You felt like you could stay here forever, lost in genetics and Armin’s quiet, intelligent charm.

 3: Crossing Over

A few days passed, and you couldn’t deny it anymore—you were crushing hard on Armin. His intelligence, his kindness, the way he patiently explained every concept to you—it was all so intoxicating. But there was also a growing tension, an unspoken connection that made your pulse race whenever you were near him.

You tried to push it aside, focusing on today’s topic: genetic mutations and evolution.

Armin leaned against the desk as he spoke. “Mutations are the driving force behind evolution. They introduce genetic variation, and through natural selection, certain mutations become advantageous and are passed down.”

You scribbled in your notebook. “So, mutations aren’t always bad, "

“Exactly,” Armin said, his eyes lighting up with approval. “Sometimes a mutation can give someone an edge in survival, depending on the environment. Evolution is about adaptation.”

He walked over to the board and drew a rough diagram of a phylogenetic tree, explaining how species diverge and evolve over time. You found yourself staring at his hands, the way his fingers moved as he spoke.

“Speciation,” he continued, his voice smooth and soothing, “happens when populations of the same species become so different that they can no longer interbreed.”

You cleared your throat, trying to stay focused on the lesson. “So, like Darwin’s finches? They evolved different beak shapes depending on the type of food available on their islands?”

Armin nodded, turning to face you. “Exactly. You’re really impressive, you know that?”

Your heart skipped a beat, the compliment landing deeper than it should. You smiled, feeling a surge of confidence. “Maybe I just have a good tutor,” you teased lightly.

There was a pause as your eyes locked. Something had shifted between the two of you—an invisible thread pulling you closer.

Armin’s eyes flickered, like he was battling with himself, but then he spoke, his voice low and serious. “I shouldn’t say this, but… you make me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What do you mean?”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I mean… maybe it’s just the chemistry between us. It’s like recombination—no matter how much we try to separate it, we keep crossing paths, getting closer.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, “Are you saying we’re genetically linked?”

Armin’s lips curved into a small, soft smile, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe we are.”

Chapter Text

4: Mutations in the Heart

After that moment with Armin, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he made even the most complicated genetic concepts seem so clear, how his words lingered in your mind long after you left the lab. But there was also the growing tension between the two of you—something more than just academic chemistry.

Today’s topic was mutations—something that felt way too on the nose considering how your feelings for Armin had mutated from simple admiration to a full-blown crush.

Armin greeted you with his usual warm smile as you walked into the lab. “Ready to talk about genetic mutations and how they shape evolution?”

You tried to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh? Thinking about mutations?”

You cleared your throat, blushing. “Well, I mean, you know… how small changes in DNA can cause such big differences.”

Armin nodded, his eyes bright with excitement. “Exactly. Some mutations are point mutations, where just one nucleotide in the DNA sequence is changed. Others are frameshift mutations, where a single insertion or deletion can shift the entire reading frame, causing a chain reaction of errors.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but wonder if your feelings for him were like a mutation—a small shift in your emotional DNA that had completely changed your relationship.

“Point mutations can be silent, too,” Armin continued, his voice softening. “Sometimes, they don’t cause any noticeable effects. But sometimes… a small change can alter everything.”

You swallowed hard, feeling like he was talking about more than just genetics now. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, it felt like the whole lab disappeared.

“What about larger mutations?” you asked, your voice quieter now. “Like… whole chromosomes changing?”

Armin’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “That would be a chromosomal mutation, like in Down syndrome, where there’s an extra copy of chromosome 21. Or deletion mutations, where entire sections of a chromosome are lost.”

You nodded, your mind racing. “So… mutations can completely change someone’s life.”

“Yeah,” Armin said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.”

There was a long pause, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if Armin felt it too.

5: Genetic Drift

The next day, Armin had asked you to meet him outside of the lab—something about needing to get out of the sterile environment and clear his head. You agreed, and now the two of you were walking through the campus garden, the golden afternoon sun casting long shadows over the ground.

Armin had been unusually quiet, his mind clearly preoccupied. You wondered if it had anything to do with that near-confession in the lab.

“So, today’s topic is… genetic drift?” you asked, trying to break the silence.

Armin nodded, his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked beside you. “Yeah. Genetic drift is when chance events cause random fluctuations in allele frequencies. It happens more often in small populations, where certain traits might be lost entirely just because of random luck.”

You tilted your head, trying to wrap your mind around it. “So… like if a storm wiped out most of a population, and only a few individuals were left, whatever traits they had would be passed on, even if they weren’t necessarily the best traits?”

“Exactly,” Armin said, glancing over at you. “It’s like a roll of the dice. Natural selection isn’t the only thing that shapes evolution—sometimes it’s just pure chance.”

You looked down at your feet, thinking about how random life could be, how small moments could change everything. “Kind of like how chance brought us together, huh?” you said, your voice soft but teasing.

Armin stopped walking, turning to face you with an unreadable expression. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “I guess it is.”

You took a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “Armin… what’s going on? You’ve been different since… since that day in the lab.”

He looked down, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just—this is complicated.”

“Why does it have to be?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “We understand each other. We’re… linked.”

Armin’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, you thought he was going to pull away again. But instead, he reached out, gently taking your hand in his.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said softly. “Maybe we are.”

6: Evolutionary Attraction

The tension between you and Armin had only grown after that moment in the garden. You couldn’t deny the connection you felt with him anymore—it was too strong, too real. But every time you got close, it felt like something held him back, like there was a secret he wasn’t telling you.

Today’s lesson was about evolution, which felt fitting considering how much your relationship had evolved since that first day in the lab.

Armin paced in front of the board, talking about how populations adapt over time through natural selection. “It’s all about fitness,” he explained, glancing at you every now and then. “The individuals with traits that help them survive and reproduce are more likely to pass on their genes.”

You nodded, taking notes but also stealing glances at him. “So, the traits that are most beneficial depend on the environment, right?”

“Exactly,” Armin said, smiling at you. “That’s why evolution isn’t a straight line—it’s constantly shifting based on the environment and circumstances. What’s considered ‘fit’ in one generation might be completely different in the next.”

You leaned back in your chair, thinking about how everything in life seemed to be about adaptation—evolving to fit the situation, the challenges, the emotions. Maybe that’s what was happening with you and Armin. You were adapting to this growing attraction, to the changes in your feelings.

As the lesson ended, you gathered your things, but before you could leave, Armin called your name.

You turned to face him, your heart racing.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, his voice hesitant. “About us being… linked.”

You swallowed hard, waiting for him to continue.

“And I think you’re right,” he admitted, his eyes locking with yours. “There’s something between us. Something I can’t explain.”

You took a step closer, your pulse quickening. “Then don’t try to explain it. Just… let it happen.”

Armin hesitated for a moment, but then he closed the distance between you, his hand gently brushing against yours. “Maybe we’re like two alleles,” he whispered. “Different, but complementary.”

Your heart soared as you smiled up at him. “I think we’re a perfect match.”

And in that moment, as the distance between you disappeared, you knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful—something that went beyond just genetics.

It was evolution in its purest form: adaptation, connection, and love.

Chapter Text

7: The Square of Fate

It had been a few days since your heart-to-heart with Armin, and things had definitely changed between you. There was still that slow burn, that chemistry that neither of you could deny, but there was also something new—an ease between you. It felt like you were more connected than ever, and that made today’s lesson feel particularly significant.

You walked into the lab, noticing Armin standing by the whiteboard, a small smile on his face when he saw you. “Today, we’re going to talk about Punnett squares,” he said, motioning toward the board. “I think you’ll like this one—it’s all about predicting inheritance.”

You nodded, already familiar with the basics but excited to hear Armin’s take. “Punnett squares… that’s where we figure out the chances of offspring inheriting specific traits, right?”

“Exactly,” Armin said, drawing a large square divided into four smaller boxes. “It’s a simple way to visualize how alleles are passed from parents to offspring. We’ll start with a classic example—let’s say we’re looking at a trait controlled by a single gene with two alleles: one dominant and one recessive.”

He picked up the marker and labeled the sides of the square. “Let’s say both parents are heterozygous, meaning they each have one dominant allele and one recessive allele.”

You watched as he wrote out the genotypes: Aa for both parents. He then filled in the square with the possible combinations of alleles the offspring could inherit:

Top left: AA

Top right: Aa

Bottom left: Aa

Bottom right: aa

“So, here’s what we’ve got,” Armin said, pointing to each square. “There’s a 25% chance of the offspring being homozygous dominant (AA), a 50% chance of being heterozygous (Aa), and a 25% chance of being homozygous recessive (aa).”

You nodded, already following along. “So, if the dominant allele represents, like, brown eyes, and the recessive allele is for blue eyes, then there’s a 75% chance the offspring will have brown eyes and a 25% chance they’ll have blue eyes?”

Armin grinned. “Exactly. The dominant allele masks the recessive one, so as long as the offspring has at least one dominant allele, they’ll show the dominant trait.”

He paused for a moment, then glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Want to try another one? Something a little more complex?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sure, hit me with it.”

Armin chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “Alright, let’s try a dihybrid cross. This is where we look at two different traits at the same time, each controlled by its own gene. Let’s say we’re looking at seed shape and seed color in pea plants. For shape, round (R) is dominant over wrinkled (r), and for color, yellow (Y) is dominant over green (y).”

He drew another, larger Punnett square, this one divided into 16 boxes. “Both parents are heterozygous for both traits, meaning their genotype is RrYy.”

You watched as he wrote out the possible gametes for each parent:

Parent 1: RY, Ry, rY, ry

Parent 2: RY, Ry, rY, ry

He filled in the Punnett square, creating a total of 16 possible genotype combinations for the offspring. “So, here’s what we’ve got,” he said, pointing to the different boxes. “We’ve got a 9:3:3:1 ratio—9 offspring will have round, yellow seeds (R_Y_), 3 will have round, green seeds (R_yy), 3 will have wrinkled, yellow seeds (rrY_), and 1 will have wrinkled, green seeds (rryy).”

You stared at the board, fascinated by how all the possibilities were laid out so clearly. “It’s amazing how much you can predict with just a square.”

Armin nodded, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “That’s what makes genetics so incredible. It’s like fate, written in the alleles. You can’t control which alleles get passed down, but you can predict the possibilities.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Kind of like how we can’t control what happens between us, but we can still see where it might go?”

Armin’s expression softened, and he took a step closer to you, his voice gentle. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, the tension between you palpable. For a moment, it felt like the whole world faded away, and all that mattered was the space between you—the chance of something more.

But before either of you could speak, Armin cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Anyway… that’s Punnett squares. Simple, but powerful.”

You smiled, feeling a little light-headed. “Yeah. Powerful.”

Chapter Text

 8: Crossing Over

There was a noticeable shift in your dynamic with Armin after that last lab session. The glances, the subtle touches, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it was like every moment was filled with an unspoken promise. Something was bound to happen, something that neither of you could deny any longer.

Today’s topic was crossing over and linked genes, and you could already tell this would be an interesting lesson. You walked into the lab, your stomach doing flips when you saw Armin already at the board, casually leaning against it, his blond hair catching the light just perfectly.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice smooth and warm.

You smiled back, feeling your heart race. “Hey. What are we learning today?”

Armin pushed off the board and walked over to where you were standing, stopping just a little too close. He always did that—standing just near enough to make your pulse quicken but not close enough to cross any lines. Not yet, anyway.

“Today,” he began, his eyes locked on yours, “we’re talking about crossing over during meiosis and how it increases genetic variation.”

He grabbed a piece of chalk, but instead of walking back to the board, he stood beside you, drawing on the small table where your notes were spread out. His hand brushed against yours as he sketched two homologous chromosomes—thin, wavy lines that mirrored each other.

“In prophase I of meiosis, homologous chromosomes pair up and exchange segments of their DNA. That’s crossing over,” he explained, his voice low, making the topic sound way more intimate than it should. “It’s like they’re swapping parts of themselves… to create something entirely new.”

Your breath hitched slightly as his hand lingered over yours, tracing the drawing. “So, they’re… recombining?”

Armin nodded, his eyes still focused on you. “Yeah. Recombination creates new allele combinations, which increases genetic diversity in the offspring.”

You leaned a little closer, your shoulders nearly brushing. “So, it’s like a mix of the best parts of both parents, right?”

He smiled, that slow, devastating smile that always made your heart skip a beat. “Exactly. But sometimes, genes that are close together on the same chromosome are linked genes. They tend to be inherited together because crossing over doesn’t usually separate them.”

You nodded, your attention divided between his words and the way his fingers hovered just above your hand. “So, some traits are… harder to separate.”

Armin met your gaze, his blue eyes flickering with something unspoken. “Yeah. Sometimes, no matter how much crossing over happens, certain things stay linked.”

The tension between you felt like it had reached its breaking point. The metaphor wasn’t lost on you—some things just couldn’t be separated, no matter how hard you tried.

“Like us?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, testing the waters.

Armin’s hand paused, his fingers resting on the edge of the paper. He looked at you, really looked at you, as if weighing the consequences of what he was about to say. Then, he stepped even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Like us.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, your heart racing in your chest as the space between you disappeared entirely. But before you could say anything else, Armin’s hand gently brushed yours, and he leaned in just enough to whisper, “Let me show you another example.”

 9: Independent Assortment

The next topic on the agenda was independent assortment, and Armin seemed determined to keep things as flirty as possible while still cramming in all the genetic details. You didn’t mind, though. If anything, it made the material stick even more.

“So, when we’re talking about Mendel’s second law of inheritance, we’re talking about how alleles for different genes sort independently during gamete formation,” Armin explained, sitting on the edge of the table. His legs were spread just enough for you to stand between them, which he had done very deliberately.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the closeness of his body made it difficult. “Right, so… like when a pea plant inherits seed color, that doesn’t affect the inheritance of seed shape?”

“Exactly,” Armin said, his hands resting casually on his thighs, just inches away from where you stood. “Each gene is passed on independently, so the offspring could end up with any combination of traits.”

He shifted slightly, his knee brushing against your leg, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “It’s all about probability. For example, if we’re looking at two traits—seed color and seed shape—each trait has its own independent chances.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the topic and not the way his gaze kept drifting to your lips. “So, a plant could have yellow seeds and wrinkled seeds, or green seeds and round seeds?”

Armin’s eyes sparkled as he grinned. “Exactly. It’s all random, like rolling two dice. Independent assortment increases genetic diversity, just like crossing over.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “I guess genetic diversity is important, huh?”

Armin chuckled softly, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Very important. Without diversity, things would get… boring.”

There was a beat of silence as his words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he was daring you to say something, to acknowledge the connection that had been building between you.

“Are you trying to tell me I should spice things up a little?” you asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

Armin tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “I don’t think you need any help with that.”

Your heart raced, and before you could respond, he continued, “Let me give you an example. Imagine you’re crossing two heterozygous plants—RrYy x RrYy. Independent assortment means the alleles for seed color and seed shape will assort randomly.”

He drew another large Punnett square, this one with 16 boxes, and started filling in the possible combinations of alleles. “This is what you get—a 9:3:3:1 ratio. Nine offspring with round, yellow seeds, three with round, green seeds, three with wrinkled, yellow seeds, and one with wrinkled, green seeds.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe you’re talking about seed shapes when we’re this close.”

Armin looked up from the board, his eyes locking with yours. “I could stop,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.

You smirked, leaning in just a little closer. “No… keep going. I like the way you explain things.”

 10: Sex-Linked Traits

The topic of the day was sex-linked traits, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Armin was choosing these lessons on purpose to fuel the already smoldering tension between the two of you.

“So, sex-linked traits are usually carried on the X chromosome,” Armin explained, standing so close to you that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Because males only have one X chromosome, they’re more likely to express recessive traits carried on that chromosome.”

You nodded, trying to focus. “Like colorblindness?”

“Exactly,” Armin said, his voice a little too smooth. “If a male inherits a recessive allele for colorblindness from his mother, he’ll express the trait because there’s no corresponding dominant allele on his Y chromosome to mask it.”

You leaned against the table, looking up at him. “So, it’s easier for males to show these traits, but females can be carriers?”

“Right,” Armin said, stepping even closer. “Females have two X chromosomes, so they need two copies of the recessive allele to express the trait. If they only have one, they’re just carriers.”

He was standing so close now that you could feel the tension between you building, the electricity in the air almost tangible. Your heart raced as his hand brushed against yours, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So,” you said, your voice low, “I guess it’s all about the X factor, huh?”

Armin chuckled, his eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your gaze. “Yeah… you could say that.”

Chapter Text

 11: Party Hypothesis

It had been a long week. Between endless lectures, labs, and pretending not to blush every time Armin said your name, you were ready for a break. Luckily, tonight there was a party—one of those casual, "everyone's invited" college parties that were half stress-reliever and half social experiment.

You weren't really the partying type, but your friends insisted you needed a night off. And, to be honest, part of you hoped Armin would show up. Not that you’d admit that out loud, but the way your mind constantly wandered back to him, the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him—it was becoming impossible to ignore.

As you got ready, you could feel the nervous energy building. You threw on an outfit that was casual but cute, just enough to make you feel confident. A few spritzes of perfume, a quick check in the mirror, and you were ready to go.

---

You arrived at the party, the music already loud, the room filled with students chatting and laughing. The vibe was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension that always filled the lab when you and Armin were together. You made your way through the crowd, exchanging greetings with familiar faces, but your eyes kept scanning the room.

And then you saw him.

Armin was standing by the kitchen, talking to some friends, his blond hair slightly tousled, wearing a simple black sweater that made him look even more effortlessly handsome. Your heart skipped a beat as he looked up and caught your gaze. A slow smile spread across his face, and he excused himself from the group, making his way toward you.

You tried to play it cool, but inside, you were dying. Literally combusting from how good he looked and how casual he seemed, while you were struggling to form coherent thoughts.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but teasing, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

You smiled back, hoping you didn’t look like a total mess. “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Armin chuckled, standing close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne. “I could say the same thing. I didn’t know you were into parties.”

“I’m not, really,” you admitted, laughing nervously. “But, you know, I needed a break from studying… and Punnett squares.”

He grinned, his blue eyes shining under the dim lights of the party. “Ah, yes. Genetics can be pretty exhausting.”

You could feel the tension building between you, the same magnetic pull that had been present in every lab session but was somehow even stronger now. You wanted to say something witty, something that would make him laugh, but all you could think about was how close he was standing, how easy it would be to just reach out and—

“So,” Armin said, breaking the silence, “are you any good at making hypotheses?”

The question caught you off guard, and you raised an eyebrow. “Hypotheses? What are you talking about?”

Armin’s smile turned playful, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in, his lips just inches from your ear. “I’m hypothesizing that if we spend more time together tonight… we’ll get to know each other better. Want to test it?”

You felt your breath hitch, the flirting so subtle but so effective that you almost couldn’t respond. Almost.

“I think,” you said, trying to sound confident, “that’s a hypothesis worth testing.”

---

 12: The Experiment

The party continued around you, but it felt like you and Armin were in your own little bubble. Every time he said something, it was like the world faded away, and all that mattered was the way his voice wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

You two found a quieter corner of the party, sitting on a couch while people danced and mingled around you. Your conversation drifted back to genetics—because apparently, even at parties, that’s where your minds went.

“So, let’s talk about codominance and incomplete dominance,” Armin said, leaning back on the couch, his arm casually resting along the back behind you. “You remember the difference?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course. Codominance is when both alleles are fully expressed, like in blood types. AB blood means both A and B alleles are expressed equally.”

Armin nodded, clearly impressed. “Exactly. And incomplete dominance?”

You leaned in a little closer, feeling more confident. “That’s when neither allele is completely dominant, so the phenotype is a blend of the two. Like red and white flowers making pink offspring.”

Armin smiled, and you couldn’t help but notice how proud he looked. “You’re really getting the hang of this.”

“Well,” you said, biting your lip, “I have a great tutor.”

For a moment, the tension between you became almost unbearable. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The party was loud, but all you could hear was the steady beat of your heart.

“You know,” Armin said, his voice low and teasing, “if this were an experiment, I’d say the independent variable is the amount of time we spend together.”

You laughed, feeling giddy from the way he was looking at you. “And the dependent variable?”

“How much you blush,” he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked down, trying to hide the fact that he was right. “I’m not blushing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Liar,” Armin teased, his smile softening as he leaned in even closer.

Before you could respond, someone shouted your name from across the room, breaking the moment. You both turned, and one of your friends waved you over, motioning for you to join them. You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration.

“Looks like you’re popular,” Armin said, his tone light but his eyes still lingering on yours.

You stood up, feeling a little unsteady from the way your heart was racing. “I guess I should go…”

Armin stood up too, his hand brushing against yours as he gave you one last lingering look. “Yeah. But hey, don’t forget… we still have that hypothesis to test.”

 13: The Data Collection

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but Armin stayed on your mind. You tried to engage with your friends, dance, laugh, and enjoy the party, but every time you glanced over at Armin, he was looking back at you, that same teasing smile on his face. It was like a game—both of you circling around each other, waiting for the right moment to make your move.

Eventually, you found yourself back at the couch, sitting beside Armin as the party started to wind down. Most people had left, and the music had softened to a background hum. It was just the two of you now, and the tension that had been simmering all night was finally coming to a head.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what’s the next step in our experiment?”

Armin smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, we’ve made our hypothesis. Now we need to collect some data.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool despite the way his voice was making your pulse race. “And how do we do that?”

Armin leaned in, his hand resting lightly on your knee, sending a shiver up your spine. “We could start by going to my place, after this? Hm? he suggested, his voice soft and teasing.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I think that sounds like a  plan.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with tension. Then, slowly, Armin’s hand slid up your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. His eyes locked on yours, and you could see the desire flickering behind them, barely contained.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Armin whispered, his voice low and husky.

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that made your entire body tingle. It was slow, gentle, but filled with so much emotion that it left you breathless. When he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I think we just collected some pretty solid data,” you whispered, your heart still racing.

Armin chuckled, his hand still resting on your arm. “Yeah… I’d say that was a successful trial.”

Chapter Text

 14: Speed

It wasn’t that you were shameless… He had offered to go to his place, who were you to turn him down... Okay, maybe you were a little shameless. But could you really blame yourself? Armin, driving, with the windows down and the wind tousling his blond hair like something straight out of a magazine cover—how were you supposed to not be affected?

I smiled as the song I had picked out began with its soft beat it was “Speed” by Kali Uchis and it played decently loud from the car’s speakers, the bass vibrating through the seats as the moon dipped low in the sky, painting everything in shades of navy blues and silver. You sat there, pretending to be cool and composed, but in reality, your mind was spinning. The way Armin’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his fingers lightly tapping to the beat, the way his jawline looked in the fading light… This man was doing things to you, and it was not subtle.

Oh God, why did his hands look so good on the steering wheel? Why was he so… majestic? Majestic. That was the only word your brain could come up with. The man was driving like it was some kind of casual runway show, and you were just trying not to combust in the passenger seat.

You tried to distract yourself, looking out the window at the trees flashing by, but it didn’t work. Your eyes kept drifting back to him, like some invisible force kept pulling your attention. And okay, fine, you were smitten. Shamelessly, hopelessly, smitten. It wasn’t your fault that every time Armin did anything—even something as simple as adjusting the rearview mirror—you felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

You glanced at him again, and yup. There it was. That stupid little flutter in your stomach when you saw how calm and collected he was, his blue eyes focused on the road ahead. You were sure he had no idea how hard you were simping. Nope. He was completely oblivious. You could admire him in peace.

He has no idea, you thought to yourself, biting your lip to keep from smiling too obviously. He’s just driving, completely unaware of how close I am to melting into the seat. Totally oblivious.

“You good over there?” Armin’s voice broke through your thoughts, startling you. You blinked and sat up a little straighter, trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

“Yeah!” you squeaked, too quickly. “Totally good. Just enjoying the music, you know?” You gestured vaguely at the radio as if that somehow justified your internal freakout. Smooth.

Armin smirked, the kind of smirk that made you feel like he knew exactly what was going on in your head. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, the sunlight catching in his lashes in a way that should’ve been illegal.

“Uh-huh,” he said, drawing out the words like he was definitely not convinced. “You sure? You’ve been staring out the window for a while.”

You laughed awkwardly, rubbing your hands on your jeans. “Just… nature, you know? It’s so… nature-y out here.” What is wrong with you? Nature-y? Really?

Armin chuckled, shaking his head slightly, and your stomach did that annoying flip again. He was laughing at you in that fond way, like he knew exactly how ridiculous you were being. You tried to act nonchalant, but your brain was still doing laps around how perfect he looked right now. The way his shoulders shifted when he made a turn, the way his hair fell just so across his forehead—it was enough to drive anyone crazy.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the view,” he said, his voice low and teasing, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about the scenery outside.

Your cheeks burned, and you scrambled to come up with something witty to say. “Yeah, it’s uh… beautiful out here. Really scenic.” You gave a weak laugh and glanced out the window again, trying to save whatever dignity you had left.

Armin’s smirk deepened, and you were sure he was onto you. There was no way he didn’t notice how flustered you were. But instead of calling you out, he just reached over and turned the music up a little, the lyrics of “Speed” filling the car.

“You don't know what you got yourself into...”

Ha.Ha..

The song’s smooth rhythm matched the easy pace of the car, and for a moment, the tension between you felt almost tangible, like something you could reach out and touch. Armin’s hand rested on the gear shift, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from lingering on his fingers again. Why did everything he do seem so effortless? So cool?

You tried to focus on the music, tapping your fingers against your leg to the beat. But every now and then, your gaze flicked back to Armin, your heart racing like it was competing with the car’s speed.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t—

Armin’s voice interrupted your thoughts again, smooth and relaxed. “You know, you’re really bad at hiding things.”

Your head whipped around so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What?”

He shrugged, one hand still on the wheel as he shot you a knowing look. “You’ve been staring at me for, like, half the drive.”

Your face heated up instantly, and you could feel your pulse in your ears. “No, I wasn’t!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out way too awkward. “I wasn’t staring! I was just… zoning out.”

Armin chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

You groaned internally. This was a disaster. Not only had you been totally caught simping, but now he was teasing you about it. You glanced at him again, hoping he’d drop the subject, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done yet.

“You know,” he said, turning his attention back to the road, “if you wanted to stare, you could’ve just said something. I wouldn’t mind.”

Your brain short-circuited. You were pretty sure that was the moment your soul left your body.

“I wasn’t staring,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking lower into the seat. “I was appreciating. There’s a difference.”

Armin glanced at you again, a full-blown grin on his face now. “Appreciating, huh? Well, in that case… appreciate away.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands as he laughed softly beside you. “This is so embarrassing.”

But despite your mortification, you couldn’t help but smile. Because even though you’d been caught red-handed, Armin wasn’t making you feel weird about it. If anything, he seemed to find it cute. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind being the object of your shameless admiration.

After a few more moments of silence, you peeked at him through your fingers. He was still smiling, that soft, endearing smile that made your heart do weird things. You decided, in that moment, that maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe he was just as flustered as you—he was just way better at hiding it.

Chapter Text

:16

The car hummed beneath you as you sank deeper into the leather seat, your gaze glued to Armin. He was effortlessly beautiful, like something out of a dream. His blond hair glowed in the golden sunset, strands dancing in the wind from the open window. His hands, steady and strong on the steering wheel, made your heart flutter. Every little thing he did had you spiraling into a full-blown crush, and at this point, you weren’t even trying to hide it anymore.

“Staring again,” Armin said, his voice teasing yet smooth. He didn’t even need to look at you to know that your eyes hadn’t left him.

“Appreciating,” you corrected with a grin, your tone bold. “I think I’ve earned that right.”

He chuckled, his eyes flicking over to you, catching you in your blatant ogling. “Yeah? Well, appreciate away,” he teased, clearly enjoying how flustered you were despite your attempt to play it cool.

God, this man is perfect, you thought. His smirk, his soft laugh, even the way he shifted in his seat—it all felt too good to be real. And honestly, who could blame you for shamelessly simping over him? Armin Arlert was not just attractive; he was smart, calm under pressure, and had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world when he spoke to you. 

The song you had picked was coming to its end playing softly in the background, the rhythm of the bass mirroring your heart’s steady thumping. Armin tapped his fingers lightly to the beat on the wheel, his blue eyes focused on the road ahead. You could’ve stayed in that car forever, just admiring the way his jaw tightened as he concentrated or the way the fading sunlight danced across his skin.

You felt completely safe, completely content, as if nothing could ruin this perfect moment. But just as you were about to let yourself fully relax into the easy vibe between you two, everything changed in an instant.

There was a sudden screech of tires—a flash of metal. 

The world blurred.

The impact came out of nowhere. It was as if the air was punched from your lungs, everything slamming forward in slow motion, yet it happened too fast for your brain to fully process. The sound of crushing metal, the violent jolt of the car—it was all-consuming.

Your head snapped back, and pain radiated through your body. You felt your seatbelt dig into your chest as the world around you shook and shattered. The music cut off with a jarring crack, and for a moment, everything was silent. Still. 

When you opened your eyes, you were disoriented, your vision swimming with bright, blurry shapes. The car wasn’t moving anymore. The engine was still running, but the vibrations felt off, uneven. You blinked, trying to gather your bearings, but something felt wrong.

Pain. There was a deep, aching pain in your side that made your breaths shallow and labored. You shifted slightly in your seat and winced—the sharp, searing sensation making it nearly impossible to move.

You turned your head slowly to the left, the action sending waves of nausea through you. Armin. He was okay. You saw him moving, already out of the car, pulling at his seatbelt and rushing to your side. Relief washed over you for a split second. He’s okay. He’s fine.

But then reality hit. You weren’t.

As you glanced down at your lap, you saw it. Blood. Dark, wet, and spreading rapidly across your side. A sharp breath caught in your throat as you processed what you were seeing. The other car had crashed into your side, hard. And now, you were hurt—seriously hurt.

Armin’s voice, normally so calm and soothing, was frantic as he tugged at the passenger-side door. “ Hey, are you alright? Come on, we need to get out of here.”

You tried to respond, but no words came out. Your chest felt tight, and each breath was a struggle, as if the air was slipping through your lungs before it could fill them. Panic started creeping in, your heart pounding erratically in your chest. You tried to move again, to reach for the door, but the pain was too much. Your vision blurred, and you blinked, trying to force clarity through the dizziness.

Armin finally got the door open, his blue eyes wide with worry as he knelt down beside you. “Y/N?”

His voice cracked as his gaze landed on the blood soaking your clothes. His face paled, and the soft smirk he’d been wearing just minutes ago was replaced with raw fear. His hands hovered over you, trembling, unsure where to touch without making things worse. 

“No, no, no…, stay with me, okay? You’re going to be fine. Just hold on.”

His voice, usually so steady, wavered with desperation. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers shaking as he dialed emergency services. “I need an ambulance! Right now! There’s been an accident—” His voice faded in and out as you struggled to keep your focus. 

I'm going to be okay, you tried to tell yourself, but the truth was, you weren’t sure. The pain was overwhelming now, spreading through your body like fire. It was hard to keep your eyes open, the weight of exhaustion pulling you under with every passing second.

“Stay with me,” Armin pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. He dropped the phone and pressed down on your wound, trying to stem the bleeding, his breath shaky. “Please, don’t close your eyes. You’re going to be okay. I promise, just stay with me.”

You blinked sluggishly, trying to focus on him, on the way his blond hair framed his face, on the tears welling in his eyes. Armin was panicking, and seeing him like that—because of you—made the fear settle deeper in your chest.

“I’m… I’m trying,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as the pain intensified. 

Just then, you heard the door of the other car swing open. A man stumbled out, the driver who had swerved into your lane. His face was blank, showing no remorse or panic. If anything, he seemed irritated. He was completely unharmed, brushing off his clothes as if nothing had happened.

Armin’s eyes shot up, locking onto the man. A surge of anger swept across his face, his jaw tightening. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Armin shouted, his voice laced with fury. “You could’ve killed her!”

The man shrugged, looking entirely unbothered. “It was just an accident,” he muttered, his tone dismissive as he glanced at the wrecked vehicles, seemingly more concerned about the damage to his car than the blood on your clothes.

That was the final straw for Armin. Without thinking, he lunged at the man, grabbing him by the collar. “You think this is nothing?!” Armin’s voice cracked, filled with rage and desperation. “Look at her! Look at what you did!”

Before the man could respond, Armin’s fist connected with his face, sending him stumbling backward. The man fell to the ground, clutching his jaw, eyes wide with shock. Armin stood over him, chest heaving, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

“What is he doing…” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open, the pain intensifying as your body grew weaker.

The chaos of the scene unfolded rapidly. Police officers and paramedics rushed in, some tending to the crash, others separating Armin from the driver. One of the officers grabbed Armin by the shoulders, pulling him back as the paramedics raced toward you.

“He doesn’t care! He doesn’t even care!” Armin shouted, struggling against the officer’s hold, his blue eyes filled with tears of rage,fear and despair.

“Calm down, sir,” one of the paramedics said, placing a hand on his chest, trying to push him away from the scene. But Armin wasn’t listening. His focus was entirely on you, on the blood soaking through your clothes, on the way your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.

You saw the panic in his eyes as they dragged him back. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere!”

The paramedics moved quickly, strapping you onto a stretcher and checking your vitals. The flashing lights from the ambulance reflected off the shattered glass and crumpled metal, casting an eerie glow over the scene.

Armin fought against the officers holding him, his voice cracking as he called your name. “Let me go! I need to be with her!”

The paramedics were working fast, their voices urgent as they assessed your injuries. Everything was starting to blur again, the pain creeping into every part of your body. The last thing you saw before your vision dimmed was Armin breaking free from the officers, running toward you.

Armin shouted something you couldn't make out. His face pale with fear as he sprinted after the stretcher. 

The paramedics didn’t stop him. They understood. One of them nodded, allowing him to climb into the ambulance as they wheeled you inside.

Armin’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly as the doors slammed shut behind him. His breath was shaky, tears streaking down his face as he looked at you, fear and desperation etched into every feature. 

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “They can't make me leave you.”

The ambulance roared to life, sirens blaring as it sped toward the hospital. You tried to stay awake, to focus on Armin’s face, but everything was slipping away. The pain was overwhelming, pulling you under, dragging you into unconsciousness.

But before everything went black, you heard Armin’s voice one last time, soft and pleading.

“Please, stay with me.”

---

Chapter Text

17: The Weight of a Promise

Hospitals.

Armin hated them. The sterile white walls, the overwhelming smell of disinfectant, and the constant buzz of machines monitoring life and death—it all made him uneasy. He had spent enough time in them to know that hospitals were where people went to either be saved or be lost, and right now, he wasn’t sure which path you would take.

But it was different this time. So much worse. Because it wasn’t just some random patient behind those doors. It was you.

The second the ambulance arrived at the hospital, chaos erupted. The paramedics shouted your condition as they wheeled you through the emergency room doors, doctors and nurses immediately jumping into action. Armin was left behind in the wake of the rushing medical team, standing in the middle of the ER, dazed and lost. The world moved too fast, and he was stuck in place, watching helplessly as they wheeled you away.

They’re going to save her. They have to save her, he told himself over and over again, but the knot in his stomach only tightened.

The hospital buzzed around him—phones ringing, people rushing past, machines beeping—but Armin felt completely disconnected from it all. His hands were still sticky with your blood, trembling slightly as he stared down at them. He felt numb, yet his heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there, but it felt like hours, and every passing second stretched into an eternity.

Eventually, a nurse approached him, her expression kind but urgent. “Sir, are you with the patient, Ms. L/N ?”

Armin snapped back to reality, his eyes wide as he focused on her. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “What’s happening? Is she okay?”

“ Well, she’s being prepped for emergency surgery,” the nurse explained, her tone professional but not unkind. “It’s very serious. We need to act fast.”

Armin swallowed hard, nodding. His brain was screaming at him to do something—anything—but he felt so helpless. His heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to process her words. Emergency surgery. Serious.

“She doesn’t have any family listed,” the nurse continued, flipping through a clipboard. “We need consent from a family member to proceed. Are you—”

“I’m her fiancé,” Armin blurted out before he could stop himself. The words left his mouth so quickly, he wasn’t even sure they were his. But he had to say something. There was no time.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t question him. “Alright, I’ll need you to sign the consent forms. It’s standard procedure.”

She handed him the clipboard, and for a moment, Armin just stared at it. Fiancé. The word hung in the air, heavy and strange. He knew it was a lie, but it didn’t matter. Not right now. Right now, the only thing that mattered was you.

He looked over the papers carefully—reading every word, every clause. Armin wasn’t the type to sign anything without understanding what it meant. He wasn’t about to let anyone do something without being fully informed, even in this moment of panic. It was his way of staying in control, of doing something when everything felt so out of his hands.

Once he was satisfied, he signed his name, his hand steady despite the fear that gnawed at him. The nurse took the clipboard back and nodded, her expression softening slightly.

“We’ll do everything we can for her,” she said before rushing off.

And then Armin was left alone again, standing in the middle of the sterile, blindingly bright hallway. The weight of what he had just done hit him like a truck. Fiancé. He didn’t even know if you’d be okay, and here he was, claiming a role that wasn’t his. But he’d do anything—anything—to make sure you made it through this.

The hours dragged on. Armin sat in the waiting room, his foot tapping nervously against the tile floor. Every time a nurse or doctor walked by, he straightened up, hoping they’d bring news, but they never stopped. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts—what if something went wrong? What if you didn’t wake up? What if—

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t allow himself to spiral. You were strong. You’d pull through. You had to.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, the fear lingered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached him. Armin jumped to his feet, his heart in his throat. The doctor’s expression was serious but not grim.

“The surgery was successful,” he said, and Armin felt the air rush out of his lungs, relief flooding him. “But she’s not out of the woods yet. The next 24 hours will be critical.”

Armin nodded, trying to focus on the doctor’s words, but his mind was spinning. You were alive. That was all that mattered. “Can I see her?”

“She’s in recovery now. She’ll be moved to the ICU soon, but you can sit with her until then.”

Armin didn’t waste a second. He followed the doctor through the winding hallways, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the recovery room. When they finally reached your bedside, Armin stopped in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat.

You looked so small in the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and IVs, your face pale and bruised. It took everything in him not to break down right there, but he had to be strong—for you.

He took a seat beside the bed, his fingers trembling as he reached for your hand. It was cold, too cold, and it scared him. But you were alive. You were still here.

Hours passed. Nurses came in and out, checking your vitals, adjusting your IV, but Armin barely noticed them. His focus was entirely on you. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing keeping him grounded, a constant reminder that you were still with him, even if you weren’t awake yet.

Every now and then, your face would twitch, your fingers would shift, and Armin would hold his breath, hoping you were about to wake up. But each time, you stayed still, and his heart sank a little further.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that you finally stirred. Your breathing hitched, and your eyelids fluttered open. Armin shot up, his heart racing as he leaned over you.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice shaky. “Hey, can you hear me?”

You blinked groggily, your eyes heavy with exhaustion and pain. It took you a moment to focus, to take in the room around you—the beeping machines, the sterile white walls—and then finally, Armin.

“Armin?” Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make his chest tighten with relief.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he squeezed your hand gently. “You’re okay. You made it through surgery. Everything’s going to be okay.”

But as soon as you tried to move, pain shot through your body, sharp and intense, like fire spreading through your veins. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat, your body convulsing slightly as you struggled to breathe.

"I- I can't..." you gasped, your voice strained as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

Panic flashed across Armin’s face, and he shot up, calling for the nurses. “Nurse! Someone, help!”

The sound of your gasping breaths filled the room, and Armin’s heart clenched in fear. The nurses rushed in, their movements efficient and swift, working to stabilize you, but all Armin could do was stand there, helpless. He felt utterly useless, watching you struggle, your face twisted in pain, your body trembling.

He fought to keep it together, to stay strong for you, but the tears were already pooling in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, trying to compose himself. He couldn’t let you see him break down. Not now. Not when you needed him to be strong.

After a few tense minutes, the nurses managed to stabilize you. Your breathing slowed, though it was still shallow, and the pain seemed to subside, if only slightly. Armin sank back into the chair beside you, his heart still racing, his hands shaking as he wiped at his eyes again, trying to pull himself together.

When your eyes fluttered open again, they found his, and despite the pain, despite everything, you managed to smile at him—a small, fragile smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Still here?” you murmured, your voice weak but teasing, as if you couldn’t believe he was still by your side after seeing you like this.

Armin let out a breathy laugh, though it was tinged with emotion. “Of course I’m still here. Where else would I be?”

You glanced around the room, taking in the sterile hospital environment, the machines, the nurses bustling about. It was all so surreal, so overwhelming. You felt like you were floating in and out of consciousness, your mind hazy from the pain and the drugs, but one thing stood out to you.

“Why… why are the nurses calling you my fiancé?” you asked, your voice slurred slightly as you tried to make sense of everything.

Armin froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you had overheard. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his face flushing a little as he tried to figure out how to explain.

“Well… they needed a family member to sign off on the surgery, and, uh, you didn’t have anyone listed, so I kind of… told them I was your...well, yea...” he admitted sheepishly, his blue eyes flicking away from yours, embarrassed.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and despite the pain, you couldn’t help but smile. “Fiancé, huh?”

“I know, I know,” Armin said quickly, his cheek turning pinker by the second. “I just—I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to lose you, and they wouldn’t let me—”

You cut him off with a soft laugh, though it hurt to do so. “It’s okay,” you said gently, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Armin looked at you then, his eyes filled with so much emotion that it nearly took your breath away. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the doctor entered the room, interrupting the moment.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his voice calm but serious. “We need to monitor her closely for the next few hours. You’ll need to step out for now.”

Armin nodded, though he didn’t want to leave your side. He gave your hand one last squeeze before standing up. “I’ll be right outside,” he promised, his voice soft but firm.

And as he walked out of the room, he glanced back at you one last time, his heart heavy with everything he hadn’t said yet.

Chapter Text

18: Cracks in the Facade

The hum of the machines was the only sound in the room, filling the silence with their rhythmic beeping and soft whirs. You had been in the hospital for what felt like weeks, It had however been about like... two days and a half? It was hard to keep track of time when everything around you seemed to blur together. The pain meds dulled the sharp edges of the pain, but they couldn’t take it all away. You felt it lingering under the surface, a constant reminder that something wasn’t right.

But even worse than the pain was the look on Armin’s face.

He sat beside your bed, as he had for the past  days, his face pale and drawn, dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t left your side since you’d been brought in, and despite your best efforts to keep things light, you could tell that the fear was eating away at him. Every time you coughed, every time your breath hitched, his entire body would tense, his blue eyes darting toward the machines, as if he was waiting for them to start blaring out a warning.

“Armin,” you said, your voice raspy as you tried to catch his attention. “Hey, I’m still here, you know. You can stop staring at those machines like they’re going to bite you.”

Armin’s eyes snapped back to yours, his face softening slightly, though the worry never fully left his expression. “I’m not—I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

You gave him a tired smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m fine. You’re acting like I’m on my deathbed or something.”

He didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched, and his eyes flicked back to the monitor, the soft beeping filling the space between you. “You’re not fine,” he muttered under his breath, though you barely caught it.

You rolled your eyes, despite the effort it took. “Stop being so dramatic. I’m not going anywhere.” You wiggled your fingers at him, trying to make a joke out of it. “I’ve got way too much left to do, like binge-watching that documentary you hate , stealing your fries the next time we go out, lecturing with you..”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Armin’s face, but it didn’t last long. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow circles. His touch was gentle, careful, like he was afraid you might break if he held on too tight.

“I’m serious,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m scared. You… you almost died.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw emotion in his voice. You weren’t used to seeing him like this. He was always so calm, so composed, the one who always had an answer for everything. But right now, he looked lost—like he was holding himself together by a thread.

“I didn’t though,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m still here.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at your hand in his, his brows furrowed. The weight of the moment hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

After a long pause, you sighed, deciding to switch tactics. You weren’t going to let this mood settle in—not if you could help it.

“You know,” you said, your voice teasing, “if I’d known you were going to sign me up as your fiancé, I would’ve at least faked an engagement ring for the drama. You can’t just upgrade me without the jewelry, Armin.”

That earned a soft laugh from him, though it was more out of exasperation than actual amusement. He shook his head, glancing at you with a mix of fondness and frustration. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Just trying to keep things spicy,” you replied, grinning despite the dull ache in your chest. But the grin didn’t last long. A sudden, sharp pain shot through your side, and you winced, bringing a hand to your chest as you struggled to take a deep breath. Damn there really was not a moment of peace with you.

Armin jumped from his chair instantly checking you for aything to be worried, his face a mask of panic. “ What’s wrong? Is it the pain? Should I call the nurses?”

You shook your head, trying to wave him off, but the pain was relentless. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing it to pass, but instead, a violent cough ripped through your chest, sending a wave of agony through your entire body. You gasped for air, your hand clutching at your chest as the coughs continued, each one worse than the last.

“I'm ok, don't worry—” you tried to speak, but another cough cut you off, this time bringing a warm, metallic taste to your mouth.

Blood.

Your eyes widened in shock as you brought your hand to your mouth, seeing the bright red stains on your fingers. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze—Armin’s horrified expression, the blood on your hands, the sound of the machines beeping steadily in the background.

“Y/N!” Armin’s voice was filled with panic , his hands shaking as he pressed the call button for the nurse. “Nurse—she’s coughing up blood!”

Within seconds, the room was flooded with nurses, their faces grim as they quickly assessed the situation. Armin was pushed to the side as they worked, his heart racing, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. He watched in helpless terror as they adjusted your IV, checked your vitals, and whispered among themselves.

One of the nurses turned to Armin, her expression serious but calm. “She’s stable for now, but we need to run some tests to see where the bleeding is coming from. We’ll take care of her. You need to stay calm.”

Stay calm? How was he supposed to stay calm when you were lying there, coughing up blood, barely able to breathe?

He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to steady his racing heart. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not when he had just realized how much you meant to him. Not when he relized how inlo…His thoughts went awry He hadn’t even told you everything he wanted to say.

As the nurses worked around you, you glanced over at Armin, your vision blurry from the pain, but you could still make out the fear etched into every line of his face. You hated seeing him like this, so worried, so scared. It wasn’t like him.

In a moment of weakness, you forced a shaky smile, your voice barely a whisper. “Hey… still here… remember?”

Armin’s heart clenched painfully in his chest at your words. Even now, with blood on your lips and pain in your eyes, you were still trying to reassure him, to lighten the mood. It broke him in ways he couldn’t explain.

The nurses worked quickly, stabilizing you for the moment, though they warned Armin that more tests would need to be done. Once they finished, they left the room, leaving you and Armin in a tense, heavy silence.

Armin sank back into the chair beside your bed, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. He looked like he was on the verge of breaking down, his chest rising and falling with shallow, panicked breaths.

You glanced at him, feeling a pang of guilt. You didn’t want him to worry like this. You hated seeing him so torn up. With as much energy as you could muster, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his arm.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice weak but teasing. “You look like you’re about to cry. Don’t go soft on me now, Arlert.”

He let out a shaky laugh, though it was more out of desperation than anything else. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes. “You’re coughing up blood, and you’re still cracking jokes.”

“Gotta keep things interesting,” you replied, though even that small effort left you winded.

Armin leaned forward, resting his forehead against your hand, his body trembling with the weight of everything he hadn’t said yet. He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair in an attempt to comfort him, though you weren’t sure if you believed your own words.

But for Armin, they were enough—for now.

Chapter Text

19: Stubborn Hearts and Uncomfortable Chairs**

The sterile white walls of the hospital room greeted you once again as you stirred, the familiar beep of the heart monitor a soft reminder that you were still here, still alive. The pain had dulled slightly, the crushing weight in your chest now more of an ache than a sharp sting, and you felt like you could breathe without wincing in agony. But there was still a heaviness that lingered, like your body wasn’t quite ready to bounce back yet.

You blinked your eyes open, the dim light of the early morning casting soft shadows on the floor, and you immediately noticed the slumped figure in the chair beside your bed. Armin.

He was fast asleep, his long legs awkwardly folded up on the tiny chair, his head resting at an uncomfortable angle on the armrest. His blonde hair was  messy, and his face was scrunched up in discomfort, like even in sleep, he was still fighting the world.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was kind of adorable, in a sad, pitiful way. He looked so out of place in the hospital, like a fish out of water. This was supposed to be his domain—the guy was a part-time professor, for crying out loud. He had classes to teach, students who practically worshiped the ground he walked on. And here he was, sleeping in a glorified torture device that masqueraded as a chair, all because he refused to leave you alone.

You let out a soft sigh, stretching your stiff limbs as much as the IVs would allow. Your chest still hurt, but it was nothing compared to what it had been. Slowly, carefully, you shifted in bed, trying to get a better look at Armin without disturbing him.

His neck looked like it was going to give out at any second, and the thought of him waking up with a crick in his neck made you wince. He was so stubborn. He’d stayed by your side for days, refusing to go home, refusing to eat anything other than the questionable hospital food they kept bringing him. Honestly, he was going to make himself sick at this rate.

You cleared your throat softly, wincing at the rasp in your voice. “Armin.”

He didn’t stir. You rolled your eyes, a small smirk playing at your lips. “Armin,” you said a little louder, adding a touch of sass to your voice. “Wake up, you big nerd.”

His eyelids fluttered, and after a moment, he groaned, his entire body shifting in the chair as he tried to wake himself up. He blinked blearily, his blue eyes squinting against the dim light before they finally focused on you.

“Y/N?” His voice was rough, thick with sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up straighter, though it looked like every muscle in his body protested the movement. “You’re awake… how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you said, giving him a small smile. “Better, actually. But you…” You gestured to him with a teasing glint in your eye. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Armin let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a tired huff. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice playful but stern. “You hate sleeping in that chair, don't  you? You look like you’ve been folded in half for the past eight hours.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, though he winced as he stretched his arms, the cracking of his joints echoing in the small room.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, Armin, you don’t have to stay here. I’m not dying anymore, you can go back to our fancy overpriced university . I bet your students are freaking out without you.”

Armin shook his head, his expression softening as he leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m not leaving you.”

You sighed, though there was a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the hospital’s heating system. “Armin, come on. You’ve been here for days. You need to go back to your classes. You’re, like, the young prodigy professor or whatever. You have responsibilities.”

“I don’t care about that right now,” Armin said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re more important.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but you quickly covered it up with a grin. “That’s sweet, but you can’t survive on hospital food forever. It’s terrible. Seriously, have you tasted this stuff? It’s like cardboard covered in sadness.”

Armin chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m fine. I’ve eaten worse.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. “Worse? Armin, are you okay? Have you been eating, like, microwave dinners or something? Is that why you’re so skinny?”

“I am not skinny, I literally go to the gym.” Armin said, exasperated, though there was a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m just saying, hospital food is not good for you. You need real food, like… I don’t know, something with actual flavor.” You scrunched up your nose. “This stuff is just—bleh.”

Armin shook his head, leaning back in the chair, though he winced again as his back protested. “I’m not leaving.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the pillow. “You’re impossible, you know that? You’re gonna turn into a zombie if you stay here any longer.”

He shrugged, his blue eyes soft as they gazed at you. “Then I’ll be a zombie.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough, the pain in your chest flaring up again. Armin’s expression immediately shifted, concern washing over his face as he reached out to steady you, his hand hovering just above yours, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice tight with worry.

You waved him off, though the pain was still there, lingering under the surface. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just… a little cough. Nothing to worry about.”

Armin didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push the issue. Instead, he sat back in the chair, his eyes never leaving you, as if he was afraid that if he looked away for even a second, something terrible would happen.

“Seriously, though,” you said after a moment, your voice softer. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t want you to fall behind on your classes, or your job. You’ve got a whole life outside of this hospital, and I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on that.”

“You’re not,” Armin said quickly, his voice firm. “And again, I’m not leaving. I don’t care about the classes, or the students, or anything else right now. All I care about is making sure you’re okay.”

Your heart fluttered again, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. He was so stubborn, so determined, and the way he was looking at you… it made your chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries.

“Fine,” you said after a moment, though you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “But if you turn into a zombie from lack of sleep and terrible food, don’t blame me.”

Armin laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll take my chances.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest didn’t go away. He was impossible, but you couldn’t deny that it felt good to have him here, even if it was ridiculous for him to put his entire life on hold for you. He was stubborn, sure, but he was also Armin—the guy who always did what he thought was right, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

And honestly… you were glad he was here.

Chapter Text

 20: Convincing A Stubborn Genius

You could hear the soft rustling of nurses outside your door, their footsteps muted by the thick walls of the hospital. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the bed, but your focus was entirely on Armin, who was still sitting beside you, looking way too tired for someone as brilliant as him.

It had been two full days since the accident, and Armin had barely left your side. His once-sharp features were softened by the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. His blonde hair, usually neat, was now a mess, and his clothes—well, he could really use a change. Not to mention a shower.

“Armin,” you said, your voice filled with playful sass as you tugged at the IV line in your arm. “You seriously need to go home.”

Armin looked up from the book he had been pretending to read, his blue eyes sharp despite his obvious fatigue. “I’m ok.”

“You’re not fine. You look like a drowned cat that got hit by a car,” you teased, smirking as you shifted slightly in bed, trying to get comfortable.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I did get hit by a car..”

You groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. “I’m not asking you to disappear forever, genius. Just go home. Take a shower. Eat real food. Maybe, I don’t know, sleep in a bed that isn’t trying to fold like origami .”

Armin shook his head, stubborn as ever. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” you said, poking his arm with a mischievous grin. “Look, you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep eating hospital food. I mean, I get that you’re some genius  who can survive on nothing but knowledge and caffeine, but seriously, I don’t want to be responsible for turning you into a handsome zombie.”

Armin’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile appearing on his face. “I’m not going to turn into a walking corpse.”

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow. “Because you already look half-dead. You need sleep. Like real sleep, not whatever that chair has been doing to your spine.”

He sighed again, his eyes flickering with hesitation. You could tell he was torn, but you pressed on, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Armin? I’ll be fine for a few hours. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Armin glanced at the chair, then back at you. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be okay,” you reassured him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And besides, the nurses here are obsessed with you. I’ll be in good hands.”

Armin’s face flushed a little at that, and you grinned, leaning back against the pillows. “Seriously, they’ve been talking about how amazing my fiancé is. They’re like, ‘Oh, he was so worried about you, he stayed up all night!’ I mean, I can’t blame them—you’re kind of a big deal.”

He groaned, his face turning a shade darker. “I can’t believe they believe  I’m your fiancé…”

You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows at him. “Well, you did sign those papers, Mr. Fiance. You brought this on yourself.”

Armin let out a defeated sigh, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “Fine. I’ll go home and shower. But I’m coming back as soon as I’m done.”

“Deal,” you said, flashing him a triumphant smile. “And while you’re at it, grab some real food. You need it.”

Armin stood up, stretching his arms above his head. He winced as his back cracked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“See? You’re falling apart without me.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

You watched as he left the room, and once the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The nurses had been fawning over him for days, and honestly, it was kind of hilarious. You could practically hear their voices now, talking about how your “fiancé” was the perfect man—so caring, so attentive. It was embarrassing, but at the same time… well, you kind of liked it.

Later that Day

Armin returned a few hours later, looking much better than before. His hair was damp from the shower, and he was wearing fresh clothes, a navy blue hoodie that radiated warmth and some sweats. He had picked up some food for both of you, as promised, and even brought back your classwork.

“Got your homework,” he said as he placed the stack of papers on the small table beside your bed. “Figured you’d want to stay caught up.”

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, homework. The worst part about being a run over is that I'm behind on work.”

Armin chuckled, sitting down in the chair beside you once again. “Don't say that.”

You both ate quietly, the sound of rain tapping against the window filling the silence. It was peaceful, in a way, just the two of you, working on your assignments in the quiet of the hospital room.

But as the night wore on, the rain grew heavier, the storm outside becoming more intense. You glanced out the window, watching as the rain poured down in sheets, the wind howling against the building.

“You’re not going back out there in that, right?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Armin.

He looked up from his work, glancing out the window. “It’s just rain.”

“Yeah, but it’s, like, the kind of rain that makes you hydroplane into a ditch,” you said, frowning. “You’re not going out in that. What if you get into another crash?”

Armin’s eyes softened, and he put his pen down, turning his full attention to you. “I’m not going to crash again, and they crashed into us.”

“Still,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I’d rather you not risk it. I mean, what if I start dying again? You’re supposed to be my awesome caring  fiancé, remember? You can’t leave me in my time of need.”

He let out a soft laugh, though there was a seriousness in his gaze. “I’ll stay. If you want me to.”

You grinned, though there was a part of you that was genuinely relieved. “Good.  I also don’t want you turning into a soggy mess out there.”

Armin stood up, glancing around the room for a moment before his eyes landed on the hospital bed. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you cold?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Uh… a little, yeah. Why?”

Armin didn’t say anything, but before you could process what was happening, he carefully slid into the bed beside you, his long legs hanging off the edge slightly.

“Armin, what are you doing?” you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and amusement.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, pulling the blanket up to cover both of you. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart doing a weird little flip in your chest. “But what if I get you sick?”

Armin shrugged. “Then I’ll get sick.”

“And what if I start coughing up blood again?” you asked, though there was a teasing glint in your eye. “It could get on you.”

He glanced down at you, his expression soft but serious. “I don’t care about that. I’m more worried about you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. He was so calm, so steady, even in the face of everything that had happened. And the way he was looking at you… it made your chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries.

“Armin…” you started, but the words got caught in your throat.

“Just rest,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You haven’t been sleeping enough.”

You nodded, your heart fluttering in your chest as you leaned back against the pillows, cause who were you to fight him? You let his warmth and presence calm you.

Chapter Text

 23: A New Setback 

The morning air outside was warm, but the sterile scent of the hospital room still clung to the air as you slowly woke up, the light filtering in through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. You stretched, a small groan escaping your lips as the pain flared in your ribs. It had been a few days since the accident, and things had been looking up. Armin had been constantly by your side, always making sure you were comfortable, always keeping his calm, analytical self despite the storm of emotions you knew he was battling.

But there was something different today. Something... off.

Armin had stepped out for a few minutes, leaving you with the quiet hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of nurses outside the room. You tried to sit up, pushing through the discomfort in your ribs, when suddenly, a sharp, electric pain shot through your head. It was so intense that your vision blurred for a moment, and a wave of dizziness threatened to knock you back down.

“Armin?” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight the pressure building behind your skull, but it was no use. The pain throbbed relentlessly, and for a moment, all you could do was grip the sheets tightly, praying it would pass.

But it didn’t.

Minutes felt like hours as you sat there, trying to steady your breathing, but each breath felt shallow, like you couldn’t get enough air. The cold sweat started to bead on your forehead as the pain intensified. You tried to call out again, but your voice faltered, weak and shaky.

“Armin,” you managed, your body trembling, heart racing with panic. But there was no response. The room was still too quiet, the pain was too loud, and you could feel it swallowing you whole.

Finally, you heard footsteps. Armin’s voice echoed faintly outside the door, and with a burst of strength, you managed to call his name again, louder this time. “Armin!”

The door swung open, and there he was—his usual calm composure faltering when he saw you gripping the sheets, your face pale with distress.

“What’s wrong?!” His voice cracked, and he rushed to your side, kneeling beside your bed.

“I—I don’t know,” you gasped, your breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts. “It’s like... like my head is... it’s... I don’t know, Armin. It hurts so much.”

He quickly grabbed your hand, his fingers trembling just slightly as he tried to comfort you. “Okay, okay, just breathe. Stay awake, alright? I’m here.”

Your vision blurred again, the pain too much to bear. “It’s too much,” you whispered. “I can’t breathe properly, Armin... something’s wrong. I think I—”

Before you could finish, your body suddenly went limp, your hand slipping from his. Panic surged through Armin like a tidal wave as he scrambled to catch you, his heart hammering in his chest.

“No, no, no!” Armin cried, shaking your body gently, his voice shaky. “Stay with me. Don’t do this to me, not  again. Please. I can’t lose you.” His mind raced, thinking back to all the medical textbooks he’d read, all the biology courses that were supposed to prepare him for these situations, but none of them had prepared him for this. None of them had prepared him for the overwhelming fear of losing you.

The nurse rushed in, her face going pale as she assessed the situation. “We need to get her back to the ER now!” she shouted, and in an instant, the team was moving you, rolling your bed out into the hallway, and Armin was right there, never letting go of your hand.

As the ER doors slammed open, Armin’s mind felt like it was shattering. He had always been calm, always controlled, but now he was barely holding it together. “She’s my fiancée,” he said again, almost robotically, when the doctors asked. The words came out of his mouth without hesitation. He didn’t care if it wasn’t true. He wasn’t going to leave your side. Not ever.

The next few hours were a blur—doctors running in and out of the room, machines beeping in alarming patterns, and Armin just standing there, too afraid to move. He couldn’t leave. Not when you were like this. Not when he didn’t know what was happening, when he couldn’t understand why you were getting worse so suddenly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctors emerged. They looked exhausted, their expressions unreadable. One of them turned to Armin, who was sitting in a chair by the door, his fingers gripping the edge as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Is she going to be okay?” Armin’s voice was tight, raw with emotion. His eyes were wide, searching the doctor’s face for any sign of reassurance.

The doctor took a deep breath. “We’ve stabilized her for now, but... it’s still uncertain. We think the trauma from the accident triggered a severe neurological response. She’s been through a lot—too much—and right now, we just need to monitor her closely.”

Armin felt his heart sink as the weight of their words hit him like a physical blow. Your condition was still critical. You were still fighting for your life, and there was nothing he could do.

Hours later, Armin sat in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the hospital room, his head buried in his hands. The exhaustion was starting to catch up with him, but he refused to sleep. Not while you were still struggling. His mind replayed the moment when you had lost consciousness, the horror in your eyes as you tried to call out to him, the terror in his own heart as he watched your body go limp.

A soft, weak voice interrupted his thoughts. “Armin?”

He immediately looked up, his heart leaping in his chest at the sound of your voice. You were awake. Your eyes were still half-lidded, your body weak, but you were alive. You were still with him.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he rushed to your side. “You’re awake... How do you feel?”

You winced as you tried to speak, the pain still lingering in your body, but you smiled faintly. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

Armin chuckled softly, brushing some hair from your forehead. “It’s not far from the truth.”

You smiled weakly, then winced again. “I’m... sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you even more, I thought I was fine.."

“Don’t,” he whispered, his hand gently holding yours. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been through more than I could ever imagine. I just... I’m so glad you’re okay. .”

You turned your head slightly, your eyes softening with a mix of relief and embarrassment. “I don’t know how you deal with me. I’m just... a mess.”

“Hey,” Armin said softly, brushing his thumb over your hand, “You’re not a mess. You’re strong. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. And that’s enough for me.”

You smiled faintly, but before you could say anything else, a sudden cough rattled through your chest, forcing you to wince in pain. Armin’s face immediately dropped, concern flashing across his features.

“Easy, easy,” he whispered, gently rubbing your back. “Just breathe. You’ve been through a lot.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with gratitude but also that silly, teasing sparkle. “Well, if you want to stick around... I think you owe me dinner.”

Armin’s eyes softened as he chuckled. “We’ll start with that, but only if you promise to get better. I’m not going to lose you.”

Chapter Text

 24: From Hospital  to... Armin’s Place? 

The morning sunlight spilled across the sterile white walls of your hospital room, casting long shadows that made the room feel warmer than it had in days. It was a small comfort after the days spent cooped up in this hospital bed, where time seemed to stand still, and the world outside moved on without you.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed the outside world until today. The moment the nurse came in, clipboard in hand, and said those magic words, “You’re good to go,” your heart skipped a beat. You were finally being released.

But despite your relief, there was something else—an odd mix of nervousness and embarrassment that curled in your stomach. You weren’t fully healed, not yet, and the idea of leaving this place where you felt safe made your anxiety spike. Still, you’d been cooped up in here too long. You were ready to get out, ready to start the next step in your recovery, even if it felt terrifying.

Armin stood by your bedside, the ever-present figure that you couldn’t quite figure out yet. He’d been there every step of the way, quietly supporting you in ways you hadn’t expected. There had been so many moments of fear and uncertainty, but his constant reassurance, his calming presence, had grounded you. He had made it clear, without saying a word, that he would stay by your side, no matter what.

“I’m ready to go,” you said, your voice soft but certain. You’d finally accepted that this hospital room wasn’t your world anymore.

Armin smiled, the same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter in your weakest moments. “Of course. Let’s get you out of here,” he said, his voice steady as ever, though you could see the tension in his shoulders—the way his hands gripped your bag a little too tightly, as though he were still worried something might go wrong.

The nurse handed you your discharge papers, and you took them gratefully, trying to shake the unease that still clung to you. “Now, you're free to go,” the nurse said. “But remember, you need someone to look after you for a little while. You’re not completely out of the woods yet.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Armin replied quickly, casting a reassuring look your way. “We’re good.”

The nurse smiled and left, leaving you alone with Armin. For a moment, you just stood there, letting the reality sink in. You were leaving. And you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or terrified. The truth was, Armin had been a lifeline in these moments—his quiet confidence had kept you from sinking too deep into your fears. You had no idea what would happen once you were out of this room, once you were back in the real world.

Armin took the lead, guiding you toward the door. You felt the weight of your body against him as he helped you through the hallway, his hand steady at your back. His proximity made you hyper-aware of his every movement, every little shift of his fingers against your skin. It felt intimate in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You hadn’t exactly thought of Armin like this before everything. HE went from handsome professor/tutor, to friends, to party plus ones... but now? Now, there was something there—something you couldn’t ignore.

As you stepped outside into the fresh air, the light breeze hitting your face, you felt a rush of emotion. You were free. The hardest part of this journey was over, but as you looked up at Armin, you realized there was another kind of tension building. You’d been through so much together—pain, worry, exhaustion—but now, you had to figure out where the two of you stood. You had no clue

“Taxi’s here,” Armin said, breaking the silence and motioning to the car that had pulled up to the curb. He helped you into the backseat, holding the door open for you. As you climbed in, you caught his gaze. There was something unspoken there, something you weren’t sure how to interpret.

The ride to your dorm felt longer than it was. Every turn the taxi made felt like it took you further away from the comfort of the hospital and closer to the uncertain territory of... whatever you and Armin were.

“So,” you began, trying to break the awkward silence that had settled over the two of you. “What now? I mean, I can’t stay in my dorm alone, right?”

Armin looked at you, his eyes softening a little. “Right. The nurses said you need someone to stay with you for a while. To make sure you don’t overdo and hurt yourself.”

“Right.” You chewed your lip nervously. “So... where should I go?”

Without skipping a beat, Armin spoke again. “Your coming to my place. It’s not far, and you need someone to monitor you for the next few days. I’ve got everything you need—space, food, a comfortable bed.”

You blinked at him, feeling your heart rate pick up. His place? You hadn’t thought about that but he hadnt even asked he had just stated that you were to stay with him, and suddenly, it felt like everything between you was changing. You wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“You don’t have to feel weird about it,” Armin said quickly, as if sensing your hesitation. “I’m just making sure you’re alright. I won’t bite.”

You laughed nervously, but it was more of a nervous giggle than anything else. You weren’t sure how to react. Part of you felt incredibly grateful for the offer, and part of you was scared to get any closer. But what were you supposed to do? You didn’t have anyone else. And Armin... Armin had already shown you so much care. You needed this.

When you arrived at your dorm, you didn’t waste any time gathering your things. You were still tired, weak from the ordeal, but you had to get out of the hospital and back into some semblance of normal life. Armin insisted on doing most of the work—grabbing your things, organizing your bag, even grabbing your toiletries from the bathroom.

You didn’t realize how close he was until his hand brushed against yours. It was a simple thing, barely even a touch, but it sent a shiver through your spine. Your breath hitched for a moment, and you quickly pulled your hand away, trying to act casual.

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to focus on anything but the electricity between you two.

“You’re welcome,” Armin replied, his voice steady as always. He didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, though you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. But maybe you were imagining it. Maybe it was just your nerves playing tricks on you.

When you were ready, Armin helped you to the taxi. “Alright, let’s get your things to my place, and then we’ll figure out the rest,” he said with a small smile. The ride was quiet but comfortable, and you found yourself staring out the window, lost in thought.

The apartment was just as you remembered—clean, minimalist, posters everywhere on the wallas and books scattered, there was a comforting warmth to it. It felt like Armin’s sanctuary, a space where he could unwind and recharge. You felt a little out of place, but at the same time, there was a sense of relief in being here. You hadn’t realized how much you would have missed him if he had just left you.

Armin made sure you were settled, offering you a seat on the couch and setting up a few things for you to feel more at home. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but this... this felt nice.

“You should lie down for a bit,” Armin suggested, his eyes scanning over you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “I’ll grab some food for us. You need to rest.”

You nodded, sinking back into the couch. You could feel your body aching from the hospital bed, and all you wanted was to relax. The last few days had been a whirlwind of fear, pain, and uncertainty, and now, there was a strange peace settling over you. But it didn’t last long. Your mind kept racing—mostly about Armin, of course.

When he returned with food, you both ate quietly, the tension still thick in the air. You were both trying to avoid talking about the elephant in the room—the undeniable connection that had been growing between you. But it was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

As the night deepened and the rain started to pour outside, you found yourself growing more and more restless. The sound of the rain was soothing, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was normal when it was anything but.

Chapter Text

 25: The One Bed Trope

The evening was settling in, the rain outside pounding softly against the windows of Armin’s apartment. The world outside seemed to blur together, much like your thoughts. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally—but there was something strange in the air tonight. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Maybe it was the fact that you were here with Armin—alone—after everything that had happened. After the crash, after the fear, after all the moments that had passed between you two in the past few days, things had changed. And you couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of excitement and nervousness. Maybe it was the exhaustion too, or maybe it was the rain that made the whole atmosphere feel intimate in a way you didn’t fully understand.

Armin had set you up in his bedroom. The bed was big, way too big for just one person, he must have people over all the tim..but when he turned to you, that familiar hesitation danced in his eyes. No, he's not like that.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder at you as you leaned against the doorframe, still wearing your hospital gown. You were trying to make light of it, but you felt oddly vulnerable.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, trying to give him a smile. You had no idea what was making you so jittery tonight, but it felt like all the air had shifted between you two. “It’s just been a long day.”

Armin’s gaze softened, and he walked over to the bed, sitting down for a moment. “Well, you should take it easy. I’ll sleep on the couch. You’ve had enough stress. You need your rest.”

His concern made your heart skip a beat. But this wasn’t about you being a patient anymore, right? You weren’t in the hospital, you weren’t hurting as badly, and—wait.

Your brain finally caught up with your mouth as you caught the words that had just left your lips. “No, no, that’s silly,” you said, panicking internally. “We can both sleep here. It’s a big bed. We’ll be fine.”

You froze. Shit. Why did you say that? That was definitely not what you meant. It was fine, right? It wasn’t like you had a crush on him or anything... okay, you totally did. But it wasn’t like that, right? You were just... trying to make things less awkward, right?

Armin blinked a few times, staring at you as if waiting for you to elaborate, but then he just gave a small, awkward nod. “Uh... okay. Sure. It’s your call.”

You cursed internally as your heart started to race. What had you done? You were really going to share a bed with him? Sure, the idea had been fine when you first blurted it out, but now that it was actually happening, the tension was practically suffocating. You could already feel the heat in your cheeks. Great. You had basically just signed yourself up for the silliest situation.

As you shuffled to your suitcase, you suddenly realized you hadn’t brought any pajamas. Of course you hadn’t. You were recovering from a car crash, and now you were in his apratment, packing the correct things had been the last thing on your mind. Great.

You turned around to face Armin, who was sitting on the bed now, looking completely oblivious to the chaos inside your head. Why couldn’t he just—be less cute and... completely normal?

"Uh... so..." You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I forgot to bring pajamas. Is it okay if I borrow something from you? I... kind of didn’t think this through.”

Armin looked up from the bed, his eyes wide for a moment, before his face softened into that trademark Armin smile—the one that melted your insides.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, getting up. “I have some old sweatpants and a shirt you can borrow. They might be a little big, though.”

You blinked, not really processing his words at first. “Big? How big?”

He grinned sheepishly, his hands running through his hair. “Uh, they're from my swim team, so... yeah, they’re kind of oversized. But I think they’ll be fine.”

“Right...” You fought to keep your voice steady, but you could feel your heartbeat echoing in your ears. “Thanks.”

Armin disappeared into the closet for a moment, leaving you alone with your thoughts. This was it—this was the moment where everything could be incredibly awkward. You knew that if you didn’t pull it together now, you might burst out laughing at how silly you were being.

And then, as he came back with the clothes in hand, you realized just how big the clothes really were. Armin’s swimming team merch was all stretched out from years of wear, and you could already see how hilariously huge the shirt would be on you.

“Here you go,” he said, holding the clothes out to you. You immediately took them, careful not to touch his fingers, but failing miserably.

The touch sent another crack of electricity through you, and you quickly made your way into the bathroom to change. You could do this. You had to keep it together, right?

You changed quickly into the oversized clothes, which were so much bigger than you expected. The sweatpants fell down to your ankles when you stood up and you had to use a shoelace to keep them up, the shirt... well, it was definitely a dress on you. You tugged at the collar sniffing it. The right side o my neck smell like him, realizing the design was worn with age, and it smelled like Armin—like the ocean, the chlorine, the sweat of early morning practices. And for some reason, that scent made you want to backflip off a diving board and race around an olympic size pool.

It wasn’t helping the tension.

When you stepped out, you could feel your face heat up. Armin was sitting on the bed, his eyes on his phone, but the moment he saw you, his eyes widened a fraction. His lips parted as if he had something to say, but he didn’t, and for a long, awkward moment, neither of you moved.

The shirt hung off your body, barely staying in place, and you felt completely exposed in a way that wasn’t physical but emotional. You were sharing a bed with Armin—in his clothes. His big, comfy clothes. The very ones that  smelled so much like him you could probably make a perfume line if you squeezed it. And you could already feel the heat rushing to your cheeks again.

You tried to make it less awkward. “So, how do I look? Comfortable enough for you?”

Armin smiled, though you swore you saw his face turn pinker than usual. “You look... great,” he said with a small chuckle, looking anywhere but directly at you. Well damn, you must be looking chopped if his immediate  reaction was to look away. He quickly patted the bed beside him, as if trying to make things more casual. “Come on, let’s just—get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

Good idea, good idea—you nodded as you slowly crawled into the bed, trying not to make a bigger deal out of this than it already was. Armin followed behind, though not immediately. You could feel the space between you, the small awkwardness of the situation hanging in the air. It wasn’t bad, it was just... new. And new was hard for both of you.

You lay back, adjusting your position, and eventually, Armin joined you on the bed. There was a strange kind of quiet tension that filled the room, like a fragile thread waiting to snap at any moment. You could feel his body heat next to you, and your heartbeat quickened. But you tried your best not to freak out.

“I’m sorry about this,” you murmured, looking up at the ceiling. “I know this probably isn’t... comfortable. For you. I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s kinda awkward.”

Armin turned his head to face you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light of the room. “It’s not awkward,” he said, his voice steady but still carrying a little bit of uncertainty. “We’re just... both trying to figure things out, yea?”

You chuckled softly, trying to relieve some of the tension in the air. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it. But honestly? I don’t think I could be in better hands. Thanks, Armin. For everything.”

There was a moment of silence between you, and then you heard him whisper, almost too softly to hear, “You’re welcome.”

The two of you lay there in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-spattered window. It was quiet, peaceful even, but the unspoken words in the air were undeniable. You were no longer just two people dealing with a crisis. You were two people who had a deep connection, and while it was still a bit weird, it was the kind of weirdness you both knew would eventually fade.  You were okay with that.

The bed creaked a little as you both shifted to get comfortable. Slowly, the night stretched on, the rain outside tapping a rhythm on the window as the tension between you seemed to lessen, and eventually, you both drifted into sleep—unspoken feelings hanging in the air, but a little more at ease than before.

---

Chapter Text

The sunlight streaming through the window was the first thing that woke you. The warmth of it gently nudged you from sleep, and you turned over, expecting to see a familiar face. But instead, the space next to you was empty. The bed was cold, and for a second, your heart sank.

Armin wasn’t there.

You sighed, sitting up and rubbing your eyes, the disappointment settling in. After everything the two of you had gone through, after sharing a bed—literally—last night, you thought maybe this morning would feel different. But no, Armin had responsibilities. Of course, he did. He was a  prodigy, Mr full ride scholarship, 1st or nothing, winner after all. The Armin Arlert. He had classes to teach, and you had no right to be annoyed that he had left. You knew he obviously needed to leave, but still, it kind of sucked.

You got out of bed and stretched, trying to shake off the feeling of loneliness creeping in. But as you made your way into the small kitchen area, something caught your eye. A plate was set on the table, and next to it, a little folded piece of paper. You blinked and walked over, picking it up with curiosity.

The note, written in Armin’s neat handwriting, made you smile.

“Good morning. I didn’t want to wake you—you looked like you needed the rest. There’s breakfast on the table (I know, hospital food sucks, so I hope this is better). I’ll see you later for the lecture, but take your time, okay? You’ve been through a lot.

—Armin”

Your heart fluttered a little, and you couldn’t help but grin. He had thought about you after all. You glanced at the breakfast he’d prepared—nothing too fancy, but there was coffee, toast, and some fruit. It was enough to make your day start off on a better note than you’d anticipated.

After eating, you got ready to head to campus. You had been discharged from the hospital and were finally getting back into the routine of school. But, of course, that also meant facing the curious stares and inevitable questions from people who’d noticed your absence—and, apparently, your connection to Armin.

As soon as you stepped onto the campus, you could feel the whispers. It was like walking through a minefield of eyes and murmurs. People you didn’t even know were suddenly taking an interest in you.

“Oh, hey! What happened to you?”

“Weren’t you in the hospital? Is everything okay?”

“Is it true Armin Arlert was with you the whole time? What’s going on between you two?”

"Are you guys a thing??"

"Why would he ever take intrest in someone like them?"

It was overwhelming. All the attention made you want to disappear, and after the fifth time someone asked about Armin at lumch, you could feel the pressure rising. You  just needed to get away. Anywhere. Away from the noise, the questions, the stares.

Without thinking, you found yourself sprinting toward one of the lecture halls. You pushed through the door and slammed it shut behind you, breathing hard as if you had just run a marathon. You leaned against the door, closing your eyes, trying to calm down. The silence of the empty classroom was a relief, but when you opened your eyes, you realized you weren’t alone.

Sitting at the front of the classroom in his desk, hungrily eating a sandwich and reading some notes, was Armin. He looked up from his book with wide eyes, clearly surprised by your sudden entrance.

“Uh... hey,” he said, putting down his sandwich and straightening in his chair. “Everything okay?”

Your heart was still pounding, and your face was flushed from both the run and the embarrassment of accidentally  storming into his classroom like a maniac. “I—uh, yeah, I just needed a second to breathe,” you muttered, trying to laugh it off. “People were asking a lot of questions. I didn’t know where else to go so I ran into the first door I spotted.”

Armin’s eyebrows furrowed as he stood up, closing the book he had been reading. He walked toward you, the concern in his eyes growing as he got closer. “What kind of questions?” he asked, his voice soft but serious. He wasn’t demanding answers, but you could tell he was worried.

You let out a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Oh, you know... the usual. ‘What happened to you?’ and ‘Why was Armin with you the whole time?’” You tried to sound casual, but your heart was beating fast for an entirely different reason now. Being this close to Armin, especially after everything that had happened between you two, was enough to make your mind race.

Armin’s expression softened as he tilted his head, studying your face for a moment. “I’m sorry they’re overwhelming you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to answer any of their questions, you know. It’s no one’s business what happened, or why I was there.”

You felt a lump in your throat at how understanding he was, and for a second, you couldn’t find the right words. “Yeah, but... it’s just hard, you know? Everyone’s talking, and I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t even know how to handle us.”

There. You had said it. The unspoken thing between you two. The tension. The moments. The kiss at the party. All of it. You didn’t know how to handle it, and you needed him to know

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, it’s still a lot. I guess I wasn’t ready to deal with all of this yet. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”

Armin nodded, his eyes full of understanding. He motioned to the seat beside him. “Do you want to sit for a bit? You look like you could use a break.”

Normally, he’d probably tell anyone else to leave, but with you, it was different. You sat down next to him, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when your knees almost brushed.

He glanced at you. “You want to start the lecture early? You know, to take your mind off things?”

You shook your head, resting your forehead on the table with a groan. “No, I think I need to rest. I could leave if you’d like. I saw you were busy scarfing down a sandwich before I burst into your class.”

Armin flushed, embarrassed. “I wasn’t scarfing it down...”

You lifted your head and smiled playfully. “Uh-huh, sure. It looked like a competition from where I stood,” 

You gasped dramatically enjoying the way his pupils dilated when he observed you "don't tell me..you were..making out with the poor sandwich ?

"WHAT!" He looked at you like your were crazy for even forming such a thought. He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. “Well... okay, maybe I was hungry.” He glanced at you again, noticing you hadn’t brought lunch. His brows furrowed. “Wait, why didn’t you get lunch? You’re the sick one, you need it more than I do. Here, take mine.”

You blinked in surprise as he handed you his sandwich. “Armin, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he said firmly, pushing the sandwich toward you. “You’re still recovering. You need the energy.”

Your heart fluttered at his concern. He was always like this—so caring, so thoughtful. Reluctantly, you took the sandwich, laughing softly. “I'll pay you back with a homecooked dinner, promise.”

He smiled, sitting back down beside you as you both fell into a comfortable silence. He returned to grading papers, occasionally making silly comments about his students’ work, which made you laugh despite not knowing who he was talking about. It was nice, the quiet moments where you could just be around each other without needing to explain anything.

As you worked on your missed medical assignments, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. You hated biology and medical science . The truth was, your real passions lay in history, art, music, and dance. But in this cruel world, you had chosen a career that would pay the bills, even if you despised it.

Armin glanced at you, sensing your frustration. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just... I hate this stuff. It’s not what I want to be doing with my life, you know?”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those understanding blue eyes. You knew he got it. He always got it.

As the lunch period ended, you both packed up your things. Armin stood up, offering you a small smile. “Ready for the lecture?”

You nodded, feeling a little lighter than when you had walked in. “Yeah, thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Anytime,” he said softly. And with that, the two of you headed to the white board, the  connection between you stronger than ever

Chapter Text

Restriction Enzymes—The Molecular Scissors

Chapter Text

 Gel Electrophoresis—The DNA Race Track

Chapter Text

PCR — How to Emotionally Manipulate DNA Into Duplicating Itself

Alright,” Armin said, spinning the whiteboard marker like it owed him child support. “Today’s topic—Polymerase Chain Reaction.”

your notes still covered in chaotic scribbles from gel electrophoresis (including a stick figure labeled “DNA having a mental breakdown”)—when Armin clicked to the next slide and turned to you with that smug, sparkly-eyed smile that said this is going to hurt you, but in a loving, educational way.

You blinked at him from behind your aggressively color-coded notes. “Polymerase… what now?”

“Chain reaction,” he repeated, like it was sexy. It wasn’t. But he made it sound like it was.

You were already scribbling. Title: PCR: How To Bully DNA Into Multiplying Until It Cries. Underlined twice.

Armin gestured dramatically. “It’s how we amplify DNA. Take a tiny sample and make millions of copies in a few hours. It’s clean. Precise. Aggressively efficient.”

You paused, pen midair. “So like… a cult, but molecular?”

He choked on air. “What?!”

You nodded, unfazed. “Yeah, you isolate one, convince it to split, and suddenly it’s a DNA pyramid scheme.”

“I—” he started, then stopped. “...Actually, that’s not the worst analogy I’ve heard.”

You beamed. “Thank you. I majored in chaos.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled that weirdly soft smile he got when you weren’t paying attention—like you were some kind of rare organism under a microscope. (You were too busy drawing a tiny cartoon Taq polymerase with fire goggles and biceps the size of Jupiter to notice.)

“Step one,” he said, writing in big all-caps. “DENATURATION—we heat the DNA to around 95°C. It unzips like a bad breakup text.”

You nodded solemnly. “DNA gets emotionally cooked. Tragic.”

Armin leaned forward slightly, voice lower. “Then we cool it down. That’s ANNEALING. Primers attach to the single strands.”

You blinked. “Primers are like rebound flings?”

“Basically. Just little code-craving parasites looking for a home.”

“And then…?”

He smiled. “Then comes the main event: EXTENSION. Taq polymerase shows up—this heat-resistant enzyme—and starts building new DNA strands like it's renovating a crime scene.”

You scribbled that down without looking up. “Taq is the DIY king. Got it.”

Armin glanced at your notes. “Are those… abs?”

“Obviously. He deserves it. Man’s been through hot springs.”

He laughed, almost too loud. You, deeply in Study Mode™, didn’t even flinch. You were halfway through drawing a tiny flexing Taq yelling “LET ME COPY YOU.”

He leaned his chin on his hand, watching you instead of the board. “You know,” he said, half to himself, “it’s kind of insane how your brain works.”

You hummed. “Insane like genius, or insane like 'put her on a watchlist?'”

“Both,” he said, smiling. “But mostly genius.”

You didn’t catch the way his voice went soft. Or how he was no longer pretending to care about the next slide. Or how his marker had dropped entirely. You were too busy drawing a pie chart labeled “DNA’s Emotional Stability During PCR” (Spoiler: 0%).

“PCR is used everywhere,” he said, finally forcing himself back to task. “Crime scenes. Disease testing. Ancestry kits. Even paternity tests.”

You snorted. “Imagine getting exposed by your own DNA. Couldn’t be me.”

He smirked. “You’d probably rig the PCR machine and gaslight the results.”

You shrugged. “I prefer the term creative science.”

There was a long pause. The kind where he could’ve said something—anything—but didn’t. Because you were already flipping to the next page, underlining “CLONING” and muttering, “Can’t wait to make a sheep.”

And Armin, who knew he should focus on base pairs and binding temperatures, just stared at you like you were the experiment he didn’t understand.

Not yet, anyway.

You tilted your head. “So it’s DNA duplication… but on crack.”

“More like science’s ultimate cheat code,” he said, turning back to the board with a grin.

“Sounds slightly unethical,” you muttered, scribbling the title in your notebook.

Armin clicked again. The slide now read:
POLYMERASE CHAIN REACTION
— How Scientists Basically Became DNA’s Evil Stepmom

He wasn’t even trying to hide his excitement. “Okay. Again, in diffrent terms..Three main steps. Let’s break it down.”

He picked up a marker and drew a wiggly line—classic DNA—and beside it, a tiny thermometer.

“Step one: Denaturation. We heat the DNA to around 95°C. That’s like… boiling water levels of heat. The double helix unzips.”

“Like a breakup?” you offered.

He grinned. “Exactly. The strands split. It’s dramatic. Emotional. A total disconnection. We ghost one strand and pretend it never existed.”

You snorted. “DNA: emotionally unavailable since the dawn of life.”

He smirked and pointed the marker at you. “Exactly the kind of chaotic analogy I was hoping for.”

You scribbled in your notebook again:
Step 1: DNA breakup. It’s not you, it’s thermal agitation.

“Step two,” he continued, drawing two small arrows latching onto the ends of the now-separated strands. “Annealing. We cool things down—around 50 to 65°C—and introduce primers. Short sequences that bind to the start and end of the region we want to copy.”

You blinked. “So… rebound relationships.”

He stifled a laugh. “That’s… not wrong. Primers are clingy. They bind fast and tight to the target region. No hesitation.”

“Desperate,” you said, writing:
Step 2: DNA rebounds like a sad indie film character.

Armin watched you scribble, his expression softening for a brief second—something quiet, unspoken sitting in the way his eyes followed the curl of your hair behind your ear, the curve of your concentration. But you didn’t notice. You were underlining clingy primers three times and doodling a dramatic comic strip titled “DNA’s Toxic Dating History.”

“Step three is Extension,” he said, voice a little softer, trying not to seem too obvious. “That’s where Taq polymerase comes in.”

You looked up, squinting. “Taq? Is that a Pokémon?”

“Nope. It’s an enzyme from Thermus aquaticus, a bacteria found in hot springs. It’s heat-resistant, so it doesn’t denature when we heat the DNA again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hot spring enzyme? Sounds like the spa vacation I need.”

Armin laughed—genuine, low, and a little too fond. “Taq’s the MVP of PCR. It builds the new DNA strands by adding nucleotides to the primers. A, T, C, G—it reads the template and builds a copy.”

You tapped your pen against your lip, completely unaware of how closely he was watching. “So it’s like… a DNA printer head.”

“Exactly,” he said, clearly delighted. “It prints the new strands by reading the original. And here’s where it gets cool—every cycle, the DNA amount doubles.”

You looked up sharply. “Doubles? Like… exponentially?”

He leaned in slightly. “Yes. One cycle? Two copies. Two cycles? Four. Then eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two. You run 30 or so cycles and you’ve got millions of copies.”

You paused, blinking. “That’s… actually insane. Kind of beautiful. In a slightly maniacal way.”

His expression faltered—just for a second—because you said beautiful and you meant DNA, but his traitorous heart heard something else entirely.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It is.”

You, completely locked into the science, didn’t even catch it. “So they use PCR for crime scenes, right? Like, those detective shows where they swab a button and say, ‘We got him.’ That’s PCR?”

He nodded. “Forensics, paternity tests, diagnosing genetic diseases, COVID testing—basically anytime you need to make a tiny amount of DNA loud enough to read.”

You leaned back, wide-eyed. “So we’re using hot spring bacteria to break up DNA couples, force them into rebounds, and then clone their trauma like a biological bootlegger?”

Armin laughed again, eyes crinkling. “You really do speak fluent chaos.”

You grinned, satisfied. “And you’re the enabler.”

He opened his mouth to say something else—something closer to I think about you more than I should, or maybe you make science feel like magic—but your pen was already back on the paper, sketching a cartoon of a lonely Taq polymerase holding a tiny glue stick labeled “nucleotides.”

Science first. Emotions later. (He was starting to realize that’s just how you worked.)

Armin looked down at your notes—at the absurd illustrations, at the color-coded chaos, at the way you muttered explanations to yourself as you memorized. He’d never met anyone who made base pairs feel like poetry. Or like a battlefield.

You weren’t trying to impress him. You didn’t even realize you were already living in his head like a rogue gene expression.

And as you bent over your notebook, completely absorbed, Armin leaned back and let himself look. Just for a second.

“Just wait till we get to cloning,” he said finally, tone casual but gaze heavy. “That’s when it gets really unhinged.”

You didn’t even look up. “I’m already emotionally prepared to clone myself and drop out.”

He smirked. “If there were two of you, I think I’d combust.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, turning back to the board. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter Text

You walked back into class with a death grip on the 2 iced coffee's you had picked up and the eyes of someone who hadn’t slept since Gregor Mendel invented peas. You had chnaged your jacket for an oversized hooide , your notes were splayed on the desk right where you left them a few minutes ago, color-coded chaos, and Armin nearly forgot how to breathe.

Again.

"Good, "He cleared his throat as you slumped into your seat. "Finally your back.”

You blinked at him slowly. “Define ‘good.’Define ‘will to live.’”

He laughed—god, why was that cute?

You dropped your bag and flipped to a blank page in your notebook. At the top, in perfectly messy handwriting, you wrote:

Chapter 4: Cloning — the ultimate identity crisis.

Armin turned toward the whiteboard, clicking to the first slide.

CLONING
“Let’s copy ourselves and see what happens” – Science, probably

He smiled when he heard your quiet snort.

“Alright,” he said, “cloning. It’s the process of creating an identical genetic copy of an organism. There’s a lot of ethical debates around it, but scientifically? It’s insane and kind of beautiful.”

You raised your hand mid-sip. “So, like… sci-fi movie plot, but make it sad?”

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “There’s a few types: gene cloning, reproductive cloning, and therapeutic cloning. The most famous example? Dolly the sheep.”

You perked up. “The one with the clone mom and grandma all at once?”

He blinked. “Yes, exactly.”

You scrawled in your notebook:
Dolly: the original girlboss. Created in a lab. Survived five years. Icon.

Armin leaned against the desk, hands in his pockets, watching you scribble with way too much fondness.

“The process used was called somatic cell nuclear transfer,” he said. “You take the nucleus of a somatic cell—”

You raised a hand. “So like… a body cell?”

“Exactly. And then you insert it into an egg cell that’s had its own nucleus removed.”

“So you just… yeet out the original personality and upload a backup?”

Armin lost it. “I mean, that’s one way to say it. The egg cell becomes a vessel, and the somatic DNA takes over.”

You frowned thoughtfully. “That’s actually kind of terrifying. Like if I cloned myself, would she also drink six coffees a day and spiral at 2AM or would she fix her life and come for my spot?”

He laughed again, louder this time. “Knowing you? She’d probably unionize with your mitochondria and stage a cellular coup.”

You grinned. “Not if I sabotage her first.”

Armin stared at you for a moment too long. The kind of moment where someone falls in love and doesn’t realize it until weeks later in a lab, under the dull buzz of fluorescent lights.

“…What if I told you,” he said slowly, “that cloning a gene is actually way more common than cloning a whole person?”

You tilted your head. “Tell me everything, science boy.”

Science boy. He was never recovering from that.

“Gene cloning is what we do in molecular biology all the time,” he said. “We isolate a specific gene, insert it into a plasmid—”

“Plasmid. That’s like the DNA donut in bacteria, right?”

He blinked again. “You’re terrifying.”

“Thank you. Continue.”

“We use restriction enzymes to cut the gene and the plasmid, then ligase to seal them together. Like a molecular glue stick.”

You nodded. “So like a Build-A-Bear, but cursed and genetic.”

“Exactly.” He turned to draw a quick diagram: gene + plasmid = recombinant DNA.

You tapped your pen. “So bacteria are just tiny bio-printers running on stolen code?”

Armin laughed into his sleeve. “I’m going to have to rewrite all my notes because of you.”

You flashed a peace sign. “You’re welcome. I charge in snacks and validation.”

He wanted to give you both. He wanted to give you everything. But instead he handed you a worksheet.

“This goes over plasmid mapping and gene insertion. You’ll need to use restriction sites and figure out which enzyme combo works.”

You stared at it. “This feels like Sudoku but for genetic crimes.”

He smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

Ten minutes in, you were furiously scribbling, muttering, and aggressively chewing the end of your pen while Armin tried—tried—to teach the class.

But his eyes kept drifting to you.

You, with your coffee-stained hoodie and apocalyptic doodles of DNA warfare. You, who accidentally said “ligase supremacy” out loud and didn’t even flinch.

You didn’t notice the way he kept glancing. You didn’t see how his hand hesitated when he passed you the lab manual. You didn’t hear the internal screaming whenever you said things like “hey, do you think my clone would have better taste in men?” because he had no idea what that even meant.

You were busy being brilliant. He was busy being down horrendously.

"Armin, um I know I just came back but iced coffe and all, i need to go use the restroom?" You smile not exaclty shyly but akwardly almost.. Great my bladder just HAD to interrupt this fine learning moment.  "BRB?"

Chapter Text

You walked into the lab with a bag of chips, three highlighters, and the kind of grim academic focus only seen in those about to either ace their exam or break into a federal lab for fun.
Armin? Still writing stuff on the board. Of course.

He glanced up the second the door opened. And then immediately down—too fast, too obvious.
You looked too good for this setting. Hair pulled back. Hoodie half-zipped. Tired eyes but glowing with life and caffeine. You were scribbling something in the margins of your notebook while munching on barbecue chips. A menace. An angel. His problem.

He nearly dropped the micropipette he was trying to calibrate.

“I thought you were gonna use the restroom?” he asked, tilting your head.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then mumbled, “I was hungry...”

He frowned. “And you didn't bring me anything back?.”

"No.."

You blinked. He froze.

Silence.

“…Okay,” you said slowly, and moved on like nothing happened. Armin, meanwhile, had to stare at the floor for several seconds to remember how to exist.

You sat, opened your notebook, and without a second thought said:
“So. We’re playing God now?”

Armin thanked the heavens above for the subject change. “Y-Yeah. We’re inserting GFP into E. coli—green fluorescent protein from jellyfish.”

“Bioluminescent bacteria,” you mused, twirling your pen. “Sick.”

“We’re using a plasmid to transform the bacteria—basically tricking them into glowing,” he added, all while not looking at you too long because the way your lips curled when you said ‘sick’ was too much.

You nodded, started sketching in your notebook—little cartoon bacteria with devil horns and evil glowing eyes. Armin peeked and had to look away again. You’re cute when you’re terrifying.

As you prepped the experiment, you talked casually:
“So we drug them with calcium chloride and heat shock them into submission?”

“Um. That’s a… brutal way to put it, but yes.”

You snorted. “It’s like Pokémon, but unethical.”

He laughed—this helpless, involuntary little sound that escaped before he could catch it. You glanced up, curious.

“You’re weird today,” you said.

“Weird how?” he asked too fast.

You squinted. “Like… CPU overheating. You sure you’re okay?”

Armin blinked at you. You had no idea. You were over here pipetting like a goddess of destruction and he was over here fighting for his life. He swallowed hard. “I’m fine. Just, you know. Science. Stress. You.”

“Huh?”

“The. The stress of you doing science. That’s what I meant.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but decided to let him suffer. You had DNA to modify and bacteria to terrorize.

While the cells chilled, you muttered, “Do you think if I made myself immune to bad decisions I’d still be into blond boys with god complexes?”

Armin dropped the Sharpie in his hand.

“Sorry?” he asked, heart racing.

You looked up. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

Armin had to walk across the lab and pretend to clean something or else he was going to combust.

You, meanwhile, were just out here being your regular chaotic self—rambling about glow-in-the-dark tattoos and cloning frogs while humming Lana Del Rey under your breath. Every so often you’d glance at Armin with vague curiosity, like you were vaguely aware of his existence as a human, but mostly? You were locked in. Pure academic chaos mode.

Armin returned and handed you the pipette tips. “We can heat shock the bacteria now.”

You smiled at him and whispered, “Time to commit scientific war crimes.”

He dropped the tips.

You laughed. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” he squeaked.

“Mmhm.”

The next thirty minutes passed like a fever dream.
Pipetting. Plating. Arguing about whether agar smells like soup or sadness. You smeared a little dye on your sleeve and Armin stared at the smudge like it was a work of art.

At one point you leaned in too close to reach something and your shoulder brushed his arm. He stopped breathing.

You didn’t notice. You were too busy monologuing about DNA like a comic book villain. “They said I could be anything, so I became God.”

“Please don’t become God,” he whispered under his breath.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think I’d survive it.”

You paused, blinked, and gave him a weird look. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just—focus on the transformation protocol. Please. I don’t want you accidentally creating a new species.”

You smirked. “Too late.”

While your glowing bacteria cooked in the incubator, you leaned back, eating your chips again and scrolling your notes. Armin was silent. He’d run out of brain cells 45 minutes ago. All that remained was a hazy loop of I want you… I want you so bad… it’s driving me mad…

He stared at you like a man lost at sea.

You glanced up. “Hey, are you staring at me or is your soul just leaving your body?”

He blinked. “What? No. I’m—no, I wasn’t staring.”

“You definitely were.”

“I wasn’t!”

You raised a brow. “Okay. Why are you red?”

“I’m always red. I have fair skin.”

You gave him a look, then shook your head and went back to your notes.

Armin had never felt more like a dumbass in his entire life.

Then, finally, you yawned and stretched—shirt riding up just slightly—and said, “God, I’m starving. Wanna split a sandwich or something?”

Armin’s brain: static.
Armin’s soul: ascending.
Armin’s heart: please be a date please be a date please be a date

“…Sure!” he said too quickly. “I mean. Yeah. I have—um—half of a turkey and cheese I didn’t touch. I can give you that. Not because I was saving it. But if you want it. I mean—you don’t have to. I just thought—”

You blinked at him. “Thanks. Chill, my guy.”

He laughed nervously. You took the sandwich and plopped onto the bench like a happy cat.

“I’ll trade you a chip for it,” you offered, tossing one at him. He caught it like it was a sacred gift.

And as you munched on turkey and chips, totally unbothered, Armin sat beside you, barely breathing, absolutely gone.

And you? You just blinked at the glowing bacteria and muttered, “Damn. They really are glowing.”

As if you hadn’t spent the last two hours casually breaking the laws of nature and someone’s heart.

Chapter Text

The glowing bacteria were safely incubating.

Your notebook was full of chaos doodles and mildly concerning notes (“ask prof if glowing rats are legal”).

And Armin?

Armin was experiencing ego death in the form of your shoulder barely brushing his again.

You wiped your hands on a paper towel, casually sipping from your water bottle like you hadn’t just played god and wrecked a boy’s heart in the same afternoon. “Sooo… how long do we wait?”

“About 24 hours,” Armin said. “They’ll fluoresce under UV light tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Nice. I love unnatural consequences.”

He choked on nothing.

“You okay, blondie?”

“Yep,” he wheezed.

You stretched dramatically, hoodie riding up slightly. “Can’t believe we just committed bacterial identity theft. Honestly iconic.”

“I’m never letting you near a genome again.”

“Oh please,” you snorted. “I bet if you were a cell, you’d just let me rewrite your entire DNA.”

Armin blinked. His brain:
Yes.
God yes.
Rewrite me. Make me yours.
Out loud, all he managed was a quiet, “What.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, lips twitching. “You look like you're buffering.”

“I'm fine,” he lied.

And then—you knocked over the conical tube rack.

Everything tipped.
Pipette tips scattered. One of the plates slid halfway off the counter.

You froze.
Armin froze.

“Oops,” you said.

“That was... almost catastrophic,” he whispered.

“Almost.”

You both stared at the mess. There was something oddly intimate about it. Like chaos was now a shared language between you.

Then, slowly, silently, you grabbed a glove, knelt to clean the tips, and offered:
“You wanna make this the lab safety officer’s problem, or are we gonna pretend we’re responsible adults?”

Armin knelt beside you. “We are responsible adults.”

“You just almost inhaled a micropipette cap thirty minutes ago.”

He groaned into his hands.

You grinned.

As you cleaned together, elbows bumping occasionally, you murmured, “This is kinda romantic.”

He paused. Looked at you.

You looked back, deadpan. “You know. Fluorescent bacteria. Shared trauma. The smell of isopropyl. Just missing a candlelit Bunsen burner dinner.”

Armin wheezed.

You sat cross-legged on the floor now, sorting pipette tips like they were tarot cards.

Armin watched you like you were magic. You didn’t even notice. You were too busy muttering, “Honestly? If I were a gene, I’d make myself dominant just for the drama.”

He laughed. “What would your mutation do?”

“Cause extreme academic hyperfixation and the inability to flirt properly.”

Armin stared. Oh no. She’s self-aware. But still blind.

You tossed a tip into the box and smirked. “What about you? What would your mutation be?”

He didn’t even think. “Crippling romanticism.”

You looked up at him. “What?”

He blinked. “Nothing.”

“Nooo. Say it again.”

“I said—uh, mine would be—super speed. Like, um. Mosquito-fast. But… emotionally slow. Slow processing.”

You squinted. “What the hell?”

“Never mind.”

But you didn’t push. You just shook your head and stood. “Let’s clean the bench before we contaminate ourselves with whatever this weird energy is.”

Armin followed, dazed.

Back at the station, you leaned over the counter to grab a bottle of ethanol and somehow managed to drag his heart out of his chest while doing so.

He looked away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Yo,” you said, glancing at him. “You’re really red. Again. Do you have an allergy or something?”

“Probably,” he said, voice strained. “To… science. Or life. Or you.”

“Huh?”

“I SAID ‘humidity.’ Definitely humidity.”

You tilted your head, suspicious. “Sure, humidity boy.”

Then the TA came by. “You two are still here? It’s been like three hours.”

You both blinked.

You hadn’t realized. Neither had Armin.
Time had blurred. Morphed.
You’d been in this tiny bubble of banter, bacteria, and bad decisions.

The TA gave you a look like please don’t burn the building down, and walked away.

You grabbed your things. “Guess we should go.”

“Right,” Armin said, already mourning the end of this cursed, blessed, emotionally devastating lab session.

You headed to the door. He followed. Just before you pushed it open, you turned to him and said, “Hey.”

He blinked.

“Thanks for not letting me poison the lab with glowing E. coli.”

He smiled, soft. “Anytime.”

You paused. “I'll see you at home?”

Armin nodded, too quickly.

You had called his home, home.

You had claimed it as home now.

Gods its only been like a day since you 'moved in' and you were already playing pretend family.

“Same time.”

And then—just before walking away—you tossed over your shoulder:

“You’re weird, y’know. But, like. I like you.”

You were halfway down the hall when he whispered, “I’m in love with you.”

Too quiet.

Too soft.

Too late.

The Petri dishes heard him though.

And so did the UV lamp.

It would remember.

You didn’t hear it.

But the walls did.

And tomorrow?
Tomorrow’s going to hurt even worse.