I haven't read the whole manga canon, so crazy!Armin is my own assumptions of what he would be like.

I wrote this listening to one of the anime themes, Vogel im Käfig, so I recommend reading it while listening to that as well. It suits the mood.

Stop

Armin let out a muffled grunt as the older soldier shoved past him with condescending disgust. The blatant glares he was receiving from various tables only served to steel his nerves further; he'd been through far worse than a few rough pushes before due to his... preferences, and he would survive these latest ones easily. They would fade after time, as people got used to it.

The aproned woman showed neither like nor dislike for him as she gruffly slopped his dinner onto his plate without a word. Armin thanked her cheerfully nonetheless as he turned to approach the back table. His words were cut off, however, as he bumped lightly into a bulky man.

The blonde blinked up in surprise at the taller man before saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't see y-"

"Watch where you're going, asshole."

The threatening baritone registered in Armin's mind mere seconds before the fist on his jaw.

There was a sharp, bruising pain ripping through the bone - though thankfully it wasn't broken - and then Armin was on the floor, his dinner cast aside as his hands automatically prioritised softening his landing. He glanced around blearily for a brief moment as the dizzy blur faded, sitting forward and rubbing a hand gingerly against the point of impact.

A menacing smirk spread on the muscular soldier's face like wildfire, and he chuckled darkly. "Don't get in my way again. I won't be so merciful next time."

Armin bit his tongue, hard, focusing on the intense sting of teeth against muscle. As furious as he was, he was well aware of how his hand-to-hand combat abilities paled into oblivion in comparison to this guy's. Not to mention the fact that he was almost a foot taller, and probably twice Armin's weight. Keeping his mouth shut was definitely the smart move right now.

A large, booted foot stepped firmly past him, the gait arrogant and confident, and as it passed, it whispered, "Faggot."

Armin cringed at the word, and his teeth broke skin, and a familiar coppery warmth flooded his mouth. No matter how many times he heard that word, it always stung.

But then there was a loud yell, and a deep, bassy thump echoed in his ears and vibrated in his bones as a heavy body hit the floor with force. Dirty brown hair slid past him from behind, and Armin's jaw slackened its grip on his tongue as he recognised it as the man he'd bumped into, and why is he on the floor and he can't have fallen ten feet across the room and who has the strength to throw him that far.

Words slid slickly and slowly into the air like oil as they hung, tense and spilling with hatred. "You fucking bastard."

Armin was simultaneously euphoric and petrified as he instantly recognised the animalistic growl. Does Eren realise what he's just done-

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

-Eren he's stronger than you-

"That gay twat deserv-" A sickening crack as fist connected with nose, and Armin's golden hair fluttered in the air as he flinched.

"You're the twat here, Brent."

-Don't let yourself get hurt because you think you need to protect me because you d-

A glitter of fury and a sprinkle of murderous intent and Eren was sprawled on his stomach behind Armin with a pained groan.

-on't I know what I'm doing I can handle it it's okay it's okay it'sokayit'sokayokayok-

"You're just as worthless if you're defending him." Punch punch kick. Sharp intake of thin breath.

-ay I don't need any damn defending!

Numb limbs regained life as Armin leapt to his feet with a feral snarl. There might have been a warning cry from Eren telling him to stop what the hell do you think you're doing Armin but the crimson air was too thick to hear.

He watched his shaking hand curiously, like a bystander would watch a street fight, as it rose up into the air and shoved Brent firmly in the chest. Armin wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this - it would almost inevitably lead to getting beaten up again - but this guy was hurting Eren, and he would not let Eren get hurt because of him.

The older soldier's voice rumbled savagely but Armin was oblivious as he landed the first hit, a small pale hand somehow massively overpowering the hunk of muscle as it toppled to the floor. Armin suddenly felt much bigger, no longer as if he was a terrier facing a mastiff. The loud ache of his knuckles was not registered as he continually landed hit after hit until he was straddling the man on the ground, and even then the punches didn't stop. He vaguely asked himself why he didn't stop when Brent was clearly unconscious and why no one else in the hall had thought to stop him either, but he didn't relent until strong arms grabbed him around the waist from behind and hauled him up to his feet.

The voice that brushed tenderly over his ear sent a warm, icy shiver down his spine. "Stop, Armin."

The blonde couldn't help it. He turned in Eren's kind grip and sobbed into his shoulder. The tears were incessant, even after Eren had led him quietly to an empty table in the far corner. He was overwhelmingly thankful for his best friend's presence; for defending him, for controlling him and for comforting him.

"What... What just happened?" Jean asked as his gaze was fixed on the crying man, the whisper trembling in the air.

Mikasa swallowed her mouthful before speaking, her deep concern for her friends not evident in her voice. "I wouldn't worry, Jean. This used to happen a lot back home, although never to this extent. Usually Eren and I would arrive before Armin snapped."

Jean shot her a worried look nevertheless. "I see... It's not really fair, though. Brent was being a bit of a bastard about it. Being gay doesn't make you any less of a person, it's just a bit uncomfortable until you get used to it," he mumbled, a little awkwardly.

"It shouldn't even be uncomfortable," Sasha murmured quietly from across the table, attracting the attention of Jean and Mikasa. "It should be just as important as eye colour, or shoe size. You don't see this happening over whether someone's hair is black or blonde."

Jean cast a considering gaze over to Armin, whose tears had quietened to sniffs as he poked at the lunch Eren had generously offered to share with him. "I feel sorry for him."

"Don't," Mikasa said, her firm voice surprising even herself. At the table's questioning gazes, she explained, "Armin feels badly enough about himself. He'd feel worse if he knew he had your pity. All he needs is Eren's strength, and his friends' understanding."

Eren's strength.

"Does Armin..." Sasha asked hesitantly after a brief pause, "Does Armin like Eren?"

Heads snapped towards her in confusion and shock, before their gazes flitted to the far table, empty apart from the two men in question, one looking completely downtrodden and the other still rather worried. They were conversing, though it appeared to be quite one-sided as Eren's mouth moved with vigour as he attempted to console the shorter man.

"Yes." Mikasa stared fondly at the two. "He has done for a long time. Although Eren's so dense he probably hasn't noticed."

Sasha sighed plaintively as she ripped a bite out of her bread roll. "That sucks. One-sided love is horrible." She glanced at the other occupants of the table. "I mean, Eren totally likes you, right, Mikasa?"

Mikasa smiled slightly, seemingly at some private joke, before shaking her head and gazing wistfully at her best friends across the hall. "I wouldn't be so sure."