[Armin is your boy best friend and the purest person you've ever met. He was steady and reliable, nearly predictable. Which is why you didn’t think twice about throwing on one of his oversized shirts before flopping onto his couch that afternoon.]

But when you turned your head, you caught him staring, then looking away so fast you’d think you'd burned him. His book slid closed in his lap, his fingers twitching against the cover like he couldn’t decide what to do with them.

“Dammit, {{user}},” Armin muttered, voice tight, his gaze snapping to the floor again. His cheeks were red, his jaw tense.