My Love (Armin Arlert x Reader)

Velvet Box

The two of you fell asleep on that couch. Something about it just made it seem like the ideal location for sleep. Its velvety plushness invited you in, and you accepted. Your body is once again intertwined with your husband's, in a combination that was almost, but not quite, reminiscent of spooning. It was hard work for Armin, trying to contort his body around your growing womb. Still, the two of you managed to fall asleep pretty quickly. The summer hadn't fully kicked into swing yet, and so, the early darkness coaxed you into sleep. It was both a blessing and a curse: how much more time did you have to fall asleep at 8pm? It wasn't long, that was for sure.

You stir from your sleep, groggy. It was one of those times where you had no idea where you were or what year it was: the best kind of sleep. The familiar glass panes of your window catch your eye, as you stare at your faint reflection in the darkness. Beneath your sitting position lies Armin, borderline comatose. He looks peaceful, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. In his sleeping state, you couldn't see his beautiful eyes, but his unusually long lashes almost made up for it. You often lamented that you weren't born with such a gift, but you hoped your daughter would be. Armin's chest rises and falls with the calmness of his breath. You gently run your palm through his hair, savouring the feeling of every delicate strand filtering through your fingers.

'Pretty,' you whisper, as you lie back down next to him, slowly drifting off to sleep.

You dreamt of your first date with Armin. It was a cool day, in the middle of autumn. Leaves were falling from every tree on your university's campus; a sight both melancholy and wondrous from the window of the library. Armin and you had been in the same psychology class, and as such, had elected to have a study date to get to know each other. It almost made you not resent Eren for handing out your phone number so blindly to his blond friend. You didn't remember much, spare for the intoxicating smell of old books in the library, or its towering bookshelves, but you did remember one fateful interaction you had with Armin that day. He was wearing a blue denim jacket, finished with the university's name embroidered on the back. His coarse sleeves moved closer to you as he flipped through your notebook, trying to find some specific notes. He paused on one specific page.

'Oh, this is where you've gone wrong. You've got serotonin and dopamine mixed up,' Armin explained. 'Serotonin's for emotional regulation, but dopamine is for reward.'

You bit your lip, hoping to turn his intellectual passion into a romantic opportunity. 'So would that mean I get a rush of dopamine every time you text me?' You flirted.

Armin coloured, quickly and intensely. 'I mean, yeah. I think the same happens to me...when you message me. It's nice...makes me happy.'

The two of you were so adorably awkward, but to keep the dynamic going, someone had to take charge. You had figured Armin was too mild-mannered to do so, so you decided to take matters into your own hands; or rather, take Armin's face in your hands. Something about his intellect lit a fire deep within you, as if you were meant to be together. Barely thinking, you looked up from your paper. Armin followed suite, and as he met your eye, you spontaneously lifted a hand to his face and pulled yours close, allowing his lips to interlock with yours for the very first time. The first time you had tasted those honeysuckle lips.

As you feel dream-Armin's lips on yours, you wake up, filled with butterflies. Why did this always happen to you in the middle of a nice dream? Pouting, you pull a throw blanket over you and Armin and attempt to fall back to sleep. The butterflies quickly die down as you close your eyes. However, they are quickly replaced by a dull pain in your back. Of all the times to have back pain, which was a common occurrence for you, it had to be now? You deeply exhale in disappointment; all of this would come to an end soon. After all, it was only a matter of time until your daughter came into the world, finally freeing your body. You scrunch your already-closed eyes, trying to force your body to stop. The sensation is hard to maintain, so after 30 odd seconds, you give up, accepting defeat. If anything, that made it worse. The dull pain quickly intensifies, into a painful cramping sensation. Annoyed, you mutter expletives in your head. That seemed to have a better effect on your body, mitigating the pain down to such a point where it was barely noticeable. At this point, you were exhausted, so you clutch Armin tighter and attempt to fall back to sleep.

Your dreams were becoming increasingly more vivid, and for some reason, they all revolved around Armin. This time, you dreamt of what was going to quickly be replaced as the happiest day of your life. It was mid-January, the peak of summer. Though the sunset had taken the heat of the day with it, the beach was still warm: the perfect conditions for you and your boyfriend to walk along in the sand. You had just taken a monumental step in your relationship: you bought a house and moved in together. It was a quaint, simple townhouse, but you didn't care how big or fancy it was: you wanted to be there with Armin, and he wanted to be there with you. After a busy day of unpacking your furniture, you and Armin decided to explore around your new home. It was his idea, which you completely agreed with, but you knew he had an ulterior motive: the ocean. His love for the ocean was second only to you, which was both humbling and insulting.

As you and your boyfriend walked along the damp sand, hands interlocked, a warm breeze rushed through your hair. You felt free, with your toes in the sand and wind in your hair. As you turned away from the wind's direction, you ended up locking eyes with your boyfriend, stopping him in his tracks. His sandy blond hair was accentuated by the golden highlights of the setting sun. Armin blushed. As you turn around to keep walking, the wind suddenly picked up, sending a sandstorm through your hair and taking one of your delicate earrings with it.

'Shit,' you whispered, desperately turning around once again to find it amongst the sand.

As you frantically searched for your lost jewellery, soft sand sifting through your soft hands, you finally saw a hint of gold reflecting the sunlight. Aha. You quickly clutched the earring. It was a thin, yellow-gold Tiffany hoop, an anniversary present from Armin. You had tried to reject it, but he insisted on account that his new job was paying him well, and the fact that he knew he wanted to marry you. He never said the latter out loud, but his actions, and his consistent gushing to Eren or Jean or whoever over the phone about you, were confirmation enough. As you placed the gold hoop in your hand, you turned back to your boyfriend, ready to continue your walk.

To your surprise, Armin was down on one knee. In his hand, he held a soft, velvet box. In shock, you took small steps towards him, trying to contain your excitement. Still holding your earring, you moved your hands over your mouth. Armin smiled at you happily, with an overt tinge of nervousness.

'Y/n, you are so amazing in every possible way. Every day, I'm thankful for you being a part of my life. You and I, we just match. I know we're still young, and we haven't really figured everything out yet, but the one thing I know for sure is I want you. I've wanted you from the moment I looked into those eyes of yours. You and me, Armin and y/n, forever. I love you so much, y/n l/n. Will you marry me?' Armin asked, filled with vigour and passion.

All you could do was nod furiously, trying so hard not to cry. Your efforts were unsuccessful. Tears flooded down your face as you mouthed 'yes'. Armin stood up, removing the dainty, princess cut ring from its box. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, especially refracting the light of the sunset. As he slid it on your ring finger, a deep feeling manifested in your stomach. This was the effect Armin Arlert had on you.

The deep feeling quickly translates to pain in your waking state, having moved from your lower back to your abdomen while you slept. It was beginning to feel more like a dull cramp, slowly rippling through your womb. Without much warning, it begins to intensify, moving more towards a sharp, stabbing pain. Throughout your entire pregnancy, you hadn't felt this type of pain. You cry out, waking Armin. His pre-parenthood worries had rendered him a light sleeper, a stark contrast from when you first found out you were pregnant.

'Y/n, what's going on?' He asks, sleepy.

'It hurts,' you moan, trying to steady your breathing.

Armin's face falls. 'How far along are you again? Just confirming.'

You purse your lips, exhaling. 'I have about a month left, why?'

Before he can answer: it dawns on you. This was it. This was the night. In mere hours, your daughter was going to be here. Why was it happening so early, though? You were only 8 months along. You feared for your daughter, and yourself. Armin, in all his intellect, attempts to confirm your suspicions.

'Y/n,' he begins, cautiously. 'I think you're in labour.'

You nod, trying to rationalise the situation.

'Armin, let's go.'