Armin is the kind of guy everyone looks up to, the one who brings effortless smiles to the faces of everyone he speaks to—or merely passes by. He possesses a godlike aura that draws people in, making them want to be like him. He can be sassy when he wants to be, but that only adds to his charm. It proves that he’s a real person, and his kindness is genuine—raw and authentic.

However, there’s one thing about him… one thing he’ll never quite understand. He has this unshakable pull—an unwavering attraction to bitchy girls. The kind who send a shiver down your spine just by looking your way. The ones who wear a perpetual bitch face, even when they seem to be having fun. They are the type who won’t hesitate to bash your face in if you say the wrong thing.

So, naturally, as he watches you—your foot planted on the chest of a man who dared to insult you, his face bloody and battered—heat floods Armin’s cheeks and creeps all over his body. The flush only intensifies as he sees you spit on him, your pouty lips twisted in a grimace as you kick him aside and storm off to the bathroom.

The neon party lights glisten off the blood splatters on your face—not from your own flesh, but from the pathetic excuse for a man whose nose you smashed in. The delicious curves of your body sway with your fervent steps, your toned arms glimmering with sweat. You look… terrifying. In the hottest way imaginable. The music blaring through the loud speakers only enhances your beauty—adds to the flustered storm going on inside of Armin’s head.