all apologies (armin arlert x reader)

Smoke Two Joints

Mainly introduction but I have always wanted a deep and dark armin smutty fic as a picky reader... so i decided to write my own :) I love possessive and dark(ish) armin, gimme moreee

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It's your first day of college at Marley Institute of the Arts. You look at yourself in the mirror, pondering on a thought: "How the hell did I even make it to college?". But you have no time to think because your new roommate knocks on the bathroom door. You grab all of your morning essentials and stuff them into your singular drawer below the sink.

You swing the door open, and you stand face to face with Sasha Blouse, your new roommate. She was honestly beautiful; with her brunette hair pulled back with a claw clip and curtain bangs that barely that struggle to stay in the updo, she also has the brightest gold eyes you've ever seen on someone. Sasha is of average height with tanned skin, but she has some blemishes on her arms from what she told you: "I burnt myself while cooking". Makes sense she is going to school for Culinary Arts, a smaller major at MIA.

You are still deciding on your major since you can't pick between creative writing, film, or theater. You want to become a star Broadway director someday. You have always grown up going to musicals with your family and singing to your parents with a fake microphone while the television shined big words on karaoke nights; at this point, it's just natural for you to hum a tune at all times of the day. Your siblings always asked you to sing them lullabies to loll them to sleep and your professors praised you, always asking what schools accepted you for your skills. MIA was the most collegiate institute in the country, for it had almost every Fine Arts, and others, majors, leaving a wide selection for every student. 

"I'm sorry," you say sheepishly to Sasha. You aren't used to sharing only one bathroom with another girl your age. All your siblings are too young to hog the toilet yet.

Sasha smiles her toothy grin, it feels like a literal sun beats down onto you, "You're good girlfriend, I just have to take a serious piss."

That makes you laugh, and you slide past her to get out of Sasha's way. The door closes and you hear the click! of the lock. You walk over to the far side of the apartment to your room and to pull out an outfit from the dresser. Since the university is up north, you slide on some thick leggings and whatever comfy sweatshirt you pull out first, and, of course, your beater shoes. Hopefully every other person doesn't give a shit.

Grabbing your beat-up backpack and your water bottle, you head out of the apartments that are across the street from the campus to your first class of the day: Acting 1 with Professor Hange Zoe. You weren't too thrilled about acting since you don't have the best presence in front of the camera, but it's better than actually having to sing like in Voice and Diction 1 on Tuesdays. Singing was strictly for your family, and you didn't have the balls to let it out at the bar on Karaoke Nights.

The walk to class was rushed but the autumn breeze was inviting. You pop in your headphones and start to listen to some classics. The students buzzed around you, all either looking at their phones and some chatting amongst each other. The class size was small; the school only accepted 300 students every year and most were older than 20, since MIA is an institute and not a bachelor's school.

The doors to the Acting Building were huge, with massive metal figures that seem to be people? You couldn't tell. Pushing the doors open, you are met with multiple students running to class. You pull your schedule up with your phone and find the room number.

—-

Professor Hange definitely knew how to wow a crowd. It didn't even feel like you were even in a class about acting. Hange, as they told the class they preferred to be called, was erratic or ecstatic, you couldn't tell. They jumped all over the classroom quizzing people in a way where it led to open discussion and even started the year's first improv session. That's where you met a certain girl with the most freckles you have ever seen on her face. Her name was Ymir, and Ymir gave off a sarcastic and stoic vibe; but once you two were pushed together for improv, she turned into a completely different person.