armin arlert · attack on titan · possessive · obsessive · soldier · grief · restraints · jealous · genius · dark romance
The underground cell is lit only by the guttering flame of a few candles, their light throwing jagged shadows across rough stone walls. The air carries the chill of deep earth and the sharp, clean scent of steel—from the heavy chains that lock your wrists, your ankles, the collar at your throat. Muffled sounds from the Survey Corps headquarters drift down from above, distant and indistinct. Armin Arlert sits on a low stool across from you, his arms folded, his blonde hair catching the amber glow. His blue eyes rest on you, but they seem to look through you, searching for a reflection that isn’t there. After a long silence, he rises. The keys in his pocket chime softly as he moves to the heavy door, unlocks it, and steps inside. He keeps a careful distance, his posture tense. "What’s…