#aot fandom

Not sure if I should call this a psa but it’s important:

With the JeanMarco Sumner Solstice now coming to a close, I’m afraid I’m going on a bit of a hiatus from AOT posts for a while now.

Before you worry, no I have not lost interest in the series, not by a long shot, but I am running low on finding stuff to talk about. That and the fact that most of the ppl I follow on here and Twitter have kinda moved on too, making the former reason much stronger. Unless you want me to steal ideas?

(Kidding lol 😅)

Plus I’m still trapped in my Toy Story/Prideyear hyperfixation, especially now with the trainwreck of a 5th movie, and I feel sudden motivated to fix it.

Does bringing up how my TS posts are doing soo much better than my AOT ones at the moment make me sound bad? I hope not.

Anyway, I’m sure this phase will die down eventually so I can at least continue my S4 redefined project for you guys; but for now, remain patient until I can feel motivated with anything else AOT related again.

Thanks for reading! ^^

—

Kiss and make up

The first month was easy.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

People fought all the time in the Scouts. Arguments happened. Tempers flared. You and Eren had known each other for years. Longer than most friendships survived.

A stupid fight couldn’t ruin that.

It had started over a mission.

It always came back to missions.

“You don’t get to decide everything yourself, Eren.”

“I wasn’t deciding everything myself.”

“You nearly got yourself killed.”

“I completed the objective.”

“You got lucky.”

That had been the wrong thing to say.

The second the words left your mouth, something in Eren’s expression changed.

Lucky.

Like everything he’d sacrificed amounted to luck, like every scar on his body was luck, like every person he’d lost was luck.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“No. I think you’re reckless.”

“And I think you’re scared.”

The words struck harder than any punch.

The argument had spiraled from there.

Years of frustrations neither of you had spoken aloud suddenly found voices.

You called him stubborn.

He called you controlling.

You accused him of never listening.

He accused you of never trusting him.

By the time it ended, both of you were shouting.

Neither of you remembered who walked away first.

Only that neither came back.

Months passed, neither apologized.

At first everyone expected it.

Mikasa kept glancing between you during meals.

Armin tried awkwardly steering conversations.

Jean openly complained.

“Will you two just get over yourselves already?”

Neither of you answered.

So eventually people stopped trying.

Life continued.

Missions happened.

Training happened.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

You learned how to exist without Eren.

Or at least you learned how to pretend.

You stopped looking for him in crowded rooms, stopped saving the seat beside you, stopped turning automatically whenever you heard laughter that sounded like his.

It became easier.

Until it wasn’t.

Because no matter how much distance existed between you, Eren was still Eren.

And every now and then you’d catch a glimpse of him.

Laughing with Armin.

Arguing with Jean.

Talking strategy with Hange.

And every single time, your chest tightened.

Not because you hated him.

That would’ve been easier.

Unfortunately, you still cared.

Which was the problem.

The mission announcement came during breakfast.

Commander Hange spread a map across the table.

“I’ll keep this simple.”

That was always a lie.

“We need a small team to investigate abnormal Titan activity near the southern districts.”

Hange pointed at several markings.

“The route is narrow. Dangerous. We need experienced soldiers.”

Names were assigned.

You listened.

Nodded.

Accepted.

Then—“Eren.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Eren Yeager will accompany the team.”

Silence.

Across the room, Eren froze too.

For a brief second your eyes met.

Months of distance condensed into a single moment.

Then both of you looked away.

“Wonderful!” Hange said, completely missing the tension. “Everyone looks thrilled.

Levi looked like he wanted to leave the planet.

The ride out was miserable.

Not because of Titans.

Because of Eren.

He rode near the back of the formation.

You rode near the front.

Every conversation felt forced.

Every silence felt worse.

The absence of your friendship hung over everything.

At one point Jean muttered:

“This is unbearable.”

“Then stop talking,” Levi replied.

“No, not me. Them.”

Levi looked at both of you.

His expression immediately soured.

“Pathetic.”

The first real conversation happened two days later.

If it could even be called a conversation.

Night had fallen.

Most of the Scouts were asleep.

You sat outside the camp, staring into the darkness.

Footsteps approached.

You already knew who it was.

Eren sat several feet away.

Not beside you. Just nearby.

The distance felt intentional.

For several minutes neither of you spoke before he decided to break it.

“You still stay up too late.”

Your grip tightened around your canteen.

The familiar criticism almost felt normal.

Almost.

“You still talk too much.”

A pause.

Then Eren snorted.

Actually snorted.

The sound surprised both of you.

For a brief second, the months vanished.

Then reality returned.

Silence settled again. Heavy and uncomfortable.

“You could’ve apologized.”

The words escaped before you meant to say them.

Eren’s jaw tightened.

“You could’ve too.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

“You always do that.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Do what?”

“You turn everything around.”

“And you act like you’re always right.”

The fragile peace shattered instantly.

Just like before.

Months of resentment erupted.

“You stopped talking to me.”

“You walked away.”

“You never came after me.”

“You never came after me either.”

The words echoed through the darkness.

Neither of you spoke.

Because both statements were true.

That was the problem.

Neither of you had been innocent.

Neither of you had tried.

The realization sat between you.

Raw and uncomfortable.

Eren looked away first.

“So what now?”

You didn’t have an answer.

Neither did he.

The attack came the next afternoon.

An abnormal.

Fast and unpredictable.

Exactly the kind Hange had warned about.

The formation broke apart.

ODM gear screamed. Orders were shouted. Chaos erupted.

You spotted the Titan first.

“Eren!”

It lunged.

Too fast.

Way too fast.

Instinct moved before thought.

You fired your gear.

Shot forward.

Shoved Eren aside.

Pain exploded across your shoulder as you slammed into a tree.

The Titan missed him by inches.

Everything happened quickly after that.

Blades flashed.

The Titan fell.

The danger passed.

But your shoulder wasn’t right.

The moment the adrenaline faded, pain hit like a hammer.

Someone cursed, someone else called for supplies.

And suddenly Eren was kneeling beside you.

Looking furious.

Absolutely furious.

“What were you thinking?”

The question came out harsh.

Almost angry.

You blinked.

“What?”

“What were you thinking?”

His hands shook slightly as he inspected the injury.

“You could’ve gotten killed.”

The irony was so ridiculous you almost laughed.

“You say that like it’s unusual.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

For a second neither of you moved.

Then Eren looked up.

And the anger cracked.

Something else appeared underneath.

Fear.

Real fear.

The kind he never showed.

“You idiot.”

His voice sounded rough.

“Don’t do that again.”

The words hit harder than the injury.

Because suddenly you understood.

The reason this fight had lasted so long, why it hurt so much, why seeing him with everyone else felt wrong, why neither of you could let go.

You had never stopped caring.

Not once and neither had he.

That night neither of you slept.

The conversation happened naturally.

No shouting.

No accusations.

Just honesty.

For the first time in months.

“I was angry,” Eren admitted quietly.

“I know.”

“You made me feel like you didn’t believe in me.”

“I believed in you.”

“Then why—“

“Because I was scared.”

The words felt strange.

Eren fell silent.

You continued anyway.

“Every time you run into danger, I think maybe that’s the time you don’t come back.”

The fire crackled.

“You make it sound easy. Like you’ll survive because you always do.”

Your voice lowered.

“But one day you won’t.”

Eren didn’t respond immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I was scared too.”

You looked up.

His eyes met yours.

“Of what?”

“That one day you’ll get hurt because of me.”

Neither of you looked away.

For the first time in months there were no walls left. Just the truth.

The realization settled slowly between you.

Not friendship.

Not anymore.

Something far more dangerous.

Something that had been growing for years without either of you noticing.

Or maybe noticing and refusing to admit.

Eren laughed softly.

A nervous sound.

“I think we’re both idiots.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

A smile tugged at your mouth.

The first one he’d seen in months.

Eren stared.

Like he’d forgotten what it looked like.

Then, slowly, he smiled too.

Things should have been easier after that conversation.

That was the annoying part.

The fight was over.

The months of silence were over.

The tension that had followed both of you around like a storm cloud was finally gone.

So everything should have gone back to normal.

Instead, somehow, it got worse.

Because now you and Eren were speaking again.

And apparently neither of you knew how to act.

The first sign something was wrong came the next morning.

You woke up to find your shoulder aching from yesterday’s injury.

Not surprising.

What was surprising was opening your eyes and finding Eren sitting nearby.

Watching you.

The second he realized you were awake, he looked away.

Far too quickly.

“You should still be resting.”

You blinked.

“Good morning to you too.”

“You should.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

His mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

Then he handed over a canteen.

Your fingers brushed.

Neither of you reacted.

At least outwardly.

Jean noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

The man survived purely through gossip and spite.

By midday he had narrowed his eyes at both of you at least six times.

By dinner he finally snapped.

“What happened?”

You looked up from your food.

“What?”

“You two.”

Jean pointed dramatically.

“You were avoiding each other for months.”

“And?”

“And now you’re weird.”

“We’ve always been weird.”

“No. This is different weird.”

Across the table, Connie nodded.

“He’s got a point.”

“Thank you.”

“You both keep staring at each other.”

You nearly choked.

“No we don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You looked at Eren.

Unfortunately Eren had chosen that exact moment to look at you.

Both of you immediately looked away.

The entire table erupted.

The worst part was that they weren’t entirely wrong.

You had started noticing things. Small things.

Things that had always been there.

You just hadn’t paid attention before.

Like how Eren rubbed the back of his neck whenever he was embarrassed, how he frowned when he concentrated, how his hair constantly ended up in his face, or how his laugh sounded different when it was genuine.

The observations arrived one after another.

Relentless.

Unwanted.

Impossible to stop.

And apparently Eren was having the same problem.

Because every time you looked up, you caught him looking too.

The mission continued, several more days, several more things to do.

Several more opportunities for things to become increasingly unbearable.

One afternoon your squad stopped near a river to refill supplies.

Most of the others wandered off.

Leaving you and Eren alone.

The universe seemed determined to make this happen.

You crouched beside the water.

Eren sat nearby.

“Your shoulder feeling better?”

You nodded.

“Mostly.”

“Good.”

Silence.

“Good.”

More silence.

Somehow it felt more awkward than the months you hadn’t spoken at all.

You groaned.

Eren looked over.

“What?”

“This is ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“This.”

You gestured vaguely.

“The awkwardness.”

To your surprise, Eren laughed.

A genuine laugh.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“At least we’re suffering together.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

For some reason that made both of you smile.

The next few days became easier.

Not normal but easier.

Conversations returned.

Short ones at first.

Then longer ones.

You started riding beside each other during travel.

Started sharing observations during patrols.

Started falling into old habits.

It felt familiar.

Comfortable.

Because every time you forgot yourself, every time you relaxed around him, there was a moment.

Something that reminded you things weren’t the same anymore.

Like the evening he pushed his jacket toward you when the temperature dropped, the way he instinctively stepped closer whenever danger appeared, how his attention seemed to find you in every crowded space.

You noticed all of it. You always did.

It happened near the end of the mission.

The moment neither of you could ignore anymore.

The squad had stopped for the night.

Most people were asleep.

You sat against a tree watching the stars.

Footsteps approached.

Predictably.

Eren.

He sat beside you.

Actually beside you this time. Close enough that your shoulders nearly touched.

For a while neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

Just quiet.

Then Eren sighed.

“You know what Jean said earlier?”

That immediately sounded dangerous.

“No.”

“He said we’re idiots.”

“That’s not specific enough.”

Eren laughed.

“Fair.”

“He’ll have to narrow it down.”

“He said everyone figured it out except us.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What exactly did he think we’d figured out?”

Eren stared ahead.

Which somehow made it worse.

“You know.”

The silence stretched before he finally looked over. His expression wasn’t nervous or uncertain, just honest.

The same expression he’d worn around the fire a few nights ago.

And suddenly you knew.

Before he even spoke.

“I don’t think I stopped missing you.”

Your breath caught.

Eren looked away briefly.

Then back.

“Even when I was angry.”

The confession landed softly.

Yet somehow hit harder than shouting ever had.

“I’d see something and want to tell you.”

His voice was quieter now.

“Then I’d remember we weren’t talking.”

You stared, unable to respond because every single thing he was describing had happened to you too.

Every single thing.

“I hated it.”

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Eren’s eyes widened slightly.

You continued.

“I hated not talking to you.”

The truth felt strangely easy now.

“I hated being angry.”

You laughed once.

“I hated missing you.”

Something shifted in his expression.

Something that made your chest tighten.

Neither of you looked away. Not this time.

Slowly, Eren moved closer.

Not enough to touch just enough to give you the chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

The night around you seemed to disappear until there was only him.

And the realization that this had probably been happening for years.

Long before either of you noticed, before the fight, before the silence.

Eren smiled slightly.

Almost nervous.

A rare expression on him.

“You know,” he said quietly, “for someone who’s supposed to be smart, you took a really long time to figure this out.”

You stared.

Then immediately shoved his shoulder.

“Eren.”

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

The sound warm and familiar.

The sound you’d missed.

The sound you never wanted to lose again.

And when he leaned forward this time, neither of you hesitated.

The kiss was simple.

No dramatic declarations, no grand speeches.

Just relief.

Months of anger, years of friendship, feelings neither of you had understood. All of it finally settling into place.

When you pulled apart, Eren rested his forehead against yours.

A smile still lingering on his face.

“There.”

“There what?”

“We finally stopped being idiots.”

You considered that.

Then shook your head.

“No.”

Eren groaned.

“What now?”

“We’ll probably find a new way to be idiots.”

His laughter echoed through the quiet camp.

And for the first time in a very long time, everything felt right.

Ink between the lines

The first letter arrived three weeks after you got assigned to your mission. You almost threw it away. Not because you didn’t want to read it but because you didn’t know anyone who would write to you.

The envelope was wrinkled, the handwriting messy enough that you immediately recognized it.

Eren Yeager.

You stared at the name for a long moment before breaking the seal.

The letter was short.

To [Name],

I hope your assignment is going well.

Commander Hange suggested we keep correspondence with former cadets to maintain communication between branches.

I was told this is beneficial.

The Scouts have been busy lately. I hope you’re adjusting well.

—Eren Yeager

You stared at it for a few seconds before laughing, a single breath through your nose.

Because somehow the letter sounded exactly like him.

Like he’d been forced at gunpoint to write it.

Three days later you sent one back.

Yeager,

You write like someone’s holding a knife to your throat.

My assignment is fine.

The Garrison is boring.

The food is better than training.

You’d probably hate it.

—[Name]

The reply came eight days later,

The food is terrible here.

I think you should know that.

—Eren

That was the first time he signed only his first name.

You noticed.

You told yourself you didn’t.

The letters continued.

Not often.

Sometimes two weeks apart.

Sometimes a month.

Always arriving when neither of them expected them.

At first they remained formal.

Updates, assignments, weather, titan sightings.

The sort of things two former comrades might exchange.

Then slowly, without either of you realizing—the letters slowly started to change.

got into an argument with Jean again.

He’s still annoying.

—Eren

You’re writing to tell me you argued with Jean?

I’m shocked.

Absolutely shocked.

—[Name]

A month later,

Sasha stole food from headquarters.

Again.

I thought you’d find that funny.

—Eren

Then came longer letters.

Three pages.

Four.

Sometimes five.

Stories replacing reports.

Thoughts replacing updates.

You learned that Eren hated rainy mornings because they made everyone slower.

Eren learned that you sometimes sat on rooftops after patrols because it was the quietest place you could find.

Neither understood why those details mattered.

They just kept writing them.

Winter arrived.

Snow covered the roads.

Mail became slower.

Weeks stretched longer.

And for the first time, you found yourself waiting.

Waiting for letters.

Listening for footsteps.

Checking the mailbox before you even realized you were doing it.

One evening a letter finally arrived.

The envelope was stained, the paper crumpled like it had survived something.

Sorry this took so long we were away for a while.

I’m fine before you ask.

Levi is still impossible. Hange almost blew something up.

Nothing changes.

I hope you’re doing alright.

It’s colder this year. Wear an extra layer.

—Eren

You stared at the final sentence.

Wear an extra layer.

Such a stupid thing.

Yet you reread it three times before folding the letter carefully instead of tossing it into the pile with the rest of his letters.

One night you received a letter that was different.

Not longer.

Just different.

The handwriting was uneven, pressed harder into the paper.

I nearly died today.

Not actually.

Probably. But close enough.

Don’t panic. I’m alright.

I just, I don’t know.

I thought if something happened, you wouldn’t know.

That felt strange.

Forget I said that.

—Eren

You stared at it for a few seconds, rereading the crossed out sentence a few times before picking up a pen and paper.

Don’t tell people not to panic after writing “I nearly died.

That’s not how that works.

And for the record, If something happened to you, I’d want to know.

So don’t disappear.

—[Name]

That should have been the end of it.

A simple exchange.

Yet afterward everything felt different.

The letters became less guarded, more random.

The spaces between sentences filled with things neither would say aloud.

I saw a bird today and remembered something you said two years ago.

I don’t know why.

—Eren

A recruit asked if we’re related because I talk about you so much.

I told him absolutely not.

—[Name]

They never called it missing each other.

Never called it longing.

Never called it affection.

Because naming it would mean confronting it.

And both of them preferred pretending.

Then came another letter.

It arrived in spring.

Nearly a year after the first.

You opened it expecting another story.

Another complaint about Levi, another argument with Jean.

Instead you found only a single page.

I was talking with Armin.

He asked why I write to you.

I told him we’re friends.

He looked at me for a long time.

Then laughed.

I don’t know why.

Anyways, I hope you’re doing alright.

—Eren

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped the letter.

For the first time, you could practically hear his voice through the page.

Could imagine the annoyed expression.

The frustrated frown.

The way his ears probably turned red.

And suddenly—The distance felt unbearable.

Because you knew him.

After all this time.

Maybe better than anyone.

Yet he remained hundreds of miles away.

Existing only in ink.

The next letter arrived two weeks later.

It was longer.

Three pages.

You read through the first two normally.

Then reached the final paragraph.

And stopped.

Sometimes I think you’re the first person I want to tell things to.

That’s probably strange.

You don’t have to answer that.

Actually don’t.

Forget I wrote it.

—Eren

For a long time you simply sat there.

You heart beating harder each time.

Because for all Eren’s awkwardness, all his inability to say what he meant—You understood exactly what he was trying to tell you.

The problem was that you felt the same.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.

So you picked up your pen and wrote the only honest thing you could think of.

It’s not strange.

I think you’re the first person I want to tell things to, too.

—[Name]

Weeks later, when Eren read the letter by lantern light, he sat staring at that sentence long after everyone else had fallen asleep.

Reading it over and over.

Like if he looked away, it might disappear.

The reunion happened without warning.

No carefully planned visit, no letter announcing it, no time to prepare.

You were helping unload supplies when you heard familiar voices further down the road.

You barely paid attention at first. People passed through often enough.

Then you heard someone arguing loudly. Your head snapped up before you could stop yourself.

Because you knew that voice.

Even after all these years.

The cart suddenly felt much heavier.

The sounds of the street faded.

Jean was there, connie, Sasha, and—Eren.

For a second you couldn’t move.

He looked older.

Broader.

Sharper around the edges.

The boy you’ve known seemed to have disappeared somewhere along the way.

And yet—It was still him.

The same eyes, the same stubborn expression, the same way he talked with his hands when he got worked up.

As if no time had passed at all.

As if every letter hadn’t been separated by miles and years.

As if he wasn’t the person you thought about almost every day.

Eren stopped walking mid-sentence.

His voice died instantly.

Jean nearly walked into him.

“What are you—”

Then Jean followed his stare.

“Oh.”

You suddenly remembered how to breathe.

Unfortunately.

Because now you had to decide what to do.

Wave?

Smile?

Walk over?

Run away?

The last option felt surprisingly appealing.

Eren looked just as frozen.

Which was somehow comforting.

At least you weren’t suffering alone.

For years they’d exchanged letters.

Letters about everything.

Things neither of them told anyone else.

And now they were standing thirty feet apart.

Unable to speak.

Sasha broke first.

“ARE YOU TWO JUST GOING TO STARE?”

The spell shattered.

You immediately looked away.

Eren coughed.

Jean looked exhausted.

Connie started laughing.

And somehow the reunion got worse.

“Hi.”

You wanted to throw yourself off a building

Because after years that was what came out.

Hi.

Eren looked equally horrified.

“Hi.”

The silence stretched.

Growing longer.

More painful.

You had never realized how easy letters were.

With letters, you had time.

Time to think.

Time to rewrite.

Time to choose the right words.

Face-to-face offered no such mercy.

Eren rubbed the back of his neck.

The ground was suddenly very interesting.

Finally he blurted,

“You cut your hair.”

all the things he could have said, “That’s what you noticed?”

Immediately his face turned red.

“No.”

“You literally just said it.”

“I know.”

You laughed.

A genuine laugh.

And Eren froze.

Because he knew that laugh.

Not from memory.

From letters.

From stories you described.

From words you written.

Yet hearing it in person felt different.

Real.

Dangerously real.

For a moment neither looked away.

Then both immediately looked away.

The following days were somehow worse.

Because now they were in the same city.

Close enough to talk.

Yet every conversation felt impossible.

The letters had created a strange problem.

There was no small talk left.

They already knew everything.

Or almost everything.

The weather? Discussed three years ago. Favorite food? Covered. Worst childhood memory? Covered. Dreams? Fears? Goals? Covered.

You found yourself sitting beside him one afternoon.

Neither speaking.

The silence should have been awkward.

Instead it felt familiar.

Eren finally glanced over.

“You know.”

“Hm?”

“We’re better at letters.”

You laughed.

“Much better.”

“Definitely.”

Another pause.

Then—“I had speeches planned.”

You turned toward him.

“What?”

“For years.”

His ears turned red.

“If we ever met again.”

“Oh?”

“I forgot all of them.”

You stared.

Then laughed so hard you nearly doubled over.

Eren groaned.

“I’m serious.”

“You rehearsed speeches?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“I know.”

His expression was so offended that you laughed even harder.

And suddenly—The tension eased.

Just a little.

Like a knot finally loosening.

A week later they found themselves sitting on a rooftop.

Just like they used to describe in letters.

Wind brushing against their faces.

For a long time neither spoke.

Then Eren said quietly,

“I kept all of them.”

You looked over.

“All what?”

He stared at the horizon.

“The letters.”

Your heart skipped.

“Oh.”

“They’re in a box.”

His voice sounded strangely uncertain.

“As if you’d throw them away.”

“I don’t know.”

You smiled.

“I kept mine too.”

Eren looked at you immediately.

Really looked at you.

The kind of look that lasted a second too long.

A second longer than friendship.

A second longer than comfort.

The kind neither of them had allowed themselves to acknowledge.

Years of letters sat between them, years of missing each other, waiting for replies, rereading pages, searching for meaning in every sentence.

Neither had ever named it.

They still didn’t.

But suddenly it felt impossible to ignore.

Eren looked away first.

Of course he did.

You smiled to yourself.

The same Eren.

Always charging into danger.

Terrified of feelings.

“You know,” you said softly.

“Hm?”

“You write better than you talk.”

His jaw dropped.

You laughed once noticing.

Eren laughed too.

The sound echoed across the rooftops.

Warm, easy, familiar.

Like coming home after a very long journey.

And neither of them noticed how close they had drifted until their shoulders touched.

Neither moved away, neither mentioned it, neither wanted to be the first.

So they stayed there.

Side by side, talking quietly about nothing important.

And for the first time in years, there was no distance left for letters to cross.

AOT Masterlist

Levi Ackerman

- New recruit || New recruit 2

Eren Yeager

- Ink between the lines

- Kiss and make up

Reiner Braun

- psychology student Reiner x psychology student reader

Armin Arlert

- Nerd Armin x Popular Girl

Jean Kirstein

Levi: Tch

Eren: What did I do??