My Love (Armin Arlert x Reader)

Bathroom Floor

The bathroom floor is cold, aggravated by your poor choice in winter sleepwear: only the shirt you stole from your fiancé spares your upper half from the chill of the linoleum. You look out the window. Through the frosted glass, you can see the barren oak trees, giving way to the small hint of sunlight feeding through the window. It was barely dawn, yet, you were awake, sitting on cold linoleum instead of the plush mattress of the bed you shared with Armin. You stand up to look in the mirror. Your bright complexion almost made up for the dishevelled mess that was your h/c mane.

'God, I look like a ray of sunshine,' you mumble sarcastically to yourself, looking down to tug on a bit of loose cotton from the bottom of your shirt. Nobody knew your whereabouts, save for you and your FBI agent. You'd been in the bathroom for about 5 minutes now, after sneaking out of your bedroom quietly so as to not wake your fiancé. Armin had always been a pretty light sleeper, but for the past few weeks, his work as the Scouts' CEO got the better of him, resulting in his inability to be awoken easily. As a result, your bathroom trip was well-timed. You look back up in the mirror, half-smiling.
'Here goes,' you sigh, kneeling down to reach the cabinet below the mirror.

The cabinet was ordinary, only attended to when a razor rusted or likewise. Yesterday, you had haphazardly thrown in a paper bag from the Priceline down the road, containing a small fortune's worth of tests, which, to your surprise, was only like three. You had never liked to buy them in bulk, instead opting for the less economically-friendly option of repurchasing. Over the eighteen months you and Armin had been trying to conceive, this was costing you a fair amount. It was almost worth it to save your sanity about your fertility, lest you overthink your way into a nervous breakdown. You reach for one of the tests, sliding it out of its packaging in all its blue and white glory. You almost contemplate putting it back (after all, ignorance is bliss), but you know it must be done. It could go either of two ways at this point, but you're hopeful. You unconsciously cross yourself, cursing your years of Catholic education as you realise. Sitting down on the toilet, which is somehow colder than the floor, you lower the stick to underneath you.

You place the stick on the counter. Almost instantaneously, you pick up your phone, opening your messages to your best friend, Sasha.

Are you awake? You ask.

Sasha responds with a picture of her holding a Monster. There's no way she's going back to sleep anytime soon. It's safe to call her, then. You dial her number. It rings twice before you can hear her crunching.

'Yo! Y/n!' Sasha exclaims in between mouthfuls.

'You know how I missed my period the other day? I finally took the test,' you whisper, still trying to avoid waking Armin.

'Took you long enough, but congrats! I assume you're just calling me so you don't overthink yourself to death waiting?'

'That would be correct.' She knows you so well.

'Anyway, that's sick. Fingers crossed for you and Armin.'

'Thanks, Sash.'

You two blabber on for a few more minutes, trying to distract yourself from the fact that your attempt at getting pregnant might have failed once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the test. Had you already forgotten why you called Sasha?

'I gotta go, I think it's ready,' you interrupt her latest story about Connie.

'Right! Good luck!' She responds.

Reaching for the test, you turn away and shut your eyes. What you don't know can't hurt you. Nevertheless, you hold it just above your lap and deeply inhale, opening your eyes in the process. Two lines. You scramble for the box. Is one line or two lines positive? Though you were a high-achieving student all throughout high school and uni, that never stopped your anxious brain from becoming frazzled in moments like these.

'One line, not pregnant. Two lines...pregnant,' you mutter to yourself.

In disbelief, you check the stick again. A pair of very clear pink lines. Pregnant. You are pregnant. You'll be a mom. Armin will be a dad. You're gonna be parents. Together. You're having a baby! You stand up and once again look in the mirror.

'I'm...,' you begin, not even having the chance to finish your sentence before tears well up in your e/c eyes.

You both had wanted this for so long. Eighteen long months of trying with countless disappointments, all led to this. Your fiancé was always so good with kids; you'd seen him play with Eren and Mikasa's son, and anyone could tell he wanted one of his own, and by god were you happy to give that to him. Thoughts bombarded your head about your big reveal; how would you tell Armin? Should it be extra or low-key? Out of nowhere, the doorknob turned: in the midst of your earlier sneakiness, you had forgotten to lock the door.

Armin sleepily rubbed his eyes, yawning softly. He was so cute in the mornings, you were so excited to marry this man. If your kid turned out half as adorable, it would be a blessing.

'Good morning my love, I missed you in bed this morning. What are you doing up so early?' He asks innocently, walking up to you and kissing your forehead.

You tense up, as if you were a deer in headlights. Your eyes dart around the room, before resting on the test in your left hand. You begin to stammer.

'I was just getting ready to...shower?' You lie, meeting his gaze.

Armin lifts his hand to your face, gently cupping your cheek after wiping an astray tear.

'Are you okay? This isn't like you, leaving bed so early just to shower, then I find you here crying. What's going on, y/n?' He asks. He's very clearly concerned, his piercing blue eyes have widened, giving his soft features a sad tone.

You remove his hand from your cheek, and place it in your right palm. Armin looks down, then back up at you, his display of concern quickly turning to confusion. He's blushing profusely, still as easily flustered as he was 6 years ago when you began dating. You place the test you've been holding in his palm.

'Armin, look,' you whisper excitedly.

Armin's confused demeanour remains for a few seconds before he realises what he's looking at. He's still the same sweet, shy boy you met in your university's library all those years ago; all that's really changed is the delicate diamond on your finger and well, the baby growing inside you.

'Y/n...you're...we're...,' he stammers.

You put the stick back on the counter, locking eyes with your fiancé as you grab both of his hands. Your tears have once again returned, now accompanied by that of Armin.

'Armin, I'm pregnant,' you tell him, tears of happiness streaming down both of your faces.

He doesn't say a word. Instead, your fiancé pulls you into the tightest, warmest embrace of your life. His body is both soft and muscular, and you could stay in his arms for days on end. Armin buries his face into your neck, his cheeks warm against it.

'I love you so much, y/n. We're going to be the best parents,' he tells you lovingly, moving one of his hands from your waist to your lower abdomen.

'I love you too, Armin. I'm so excited for us.'