Bakugogo

Hello! I am but a small bnha imagine blog! Request are-🤩open🤩I do imagines, matches, head canons, and short stories!

[raysul454]

Warner bros will pay for their crimes

Film media pages are already starting marketing campaigns for Hailee over Wunmi. Hailee is great but this would be slap in the face for the point of Ryan Coogler’s film. Not sure how you can watch Sinners and focus on her character; I get the obsession for Remmick but Mary ?? Jayme Lawson and Wunmi Mosaku had more of a compelling performance. Jayme had to sing, dance, and act. Ugh

[partylikemajima]

Crying in the club (never been to a club) over their love

[thepromiscuousfinger]

[chaifootsteps]

#Please little bird

[loo-nuh-tik]

Sinners (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

[tiannasfanfic]

Luck

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington (Fluff)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: After a wild night out at The Hideout, Eddie Munson wakes up in bed with some unexpected company and no memory of what happened.

Rating: General Auidences

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, no pronouns used.

CW: Recreational alcohol and marijuana use; tobacco use; heavily implied sex (no details); could be seen as dubcon due to the use of mild altering substances, but I tried my best to address it in the story that this is something they all wouldn't done sober, too.

Word Count: 4,345

Eddie Tag List: @eddie-swhore

Waking up after a hard night of drinking was always strange and unpleasant. In all honesty, that was why Eddie Munson preferred weed. Sure, getting drunk could be fun with the right people, but the next day was always a little slice of hell on earth.

Today was no exception. Rather than gently lifting up into consciousness as he woke up naturally, he was instead woken up by a severe pounding in his head.

Eddie opened his eyes briefly and groaned in pain before closing them again. The open curtains allowed the late morning sun to illuminate the room. The bright light sent bolts of pain through each of his eyeballs, making the headache worse. It was a steady pounding feeling, as if someone were in his head playing a drum solo.

Rolling onto his back, Eddie brought his ring clad hands up to his face to rub his eyes for a bit before attempting to open them again. While it still hurt, at least he expected the room to be so bright this time. Still though, it made his stomach turn a bit and his head throb even more. He knew if he tried to get up right now that his stomach wouldn’t be feeling too good either. Eddie decided his normal hangover cure was in order.

Shutting his eyes again, he rolled over towards the center of his bed, fully intending to go back to sleep. He threw his arm out to stretch across the empty space next to him.

Instead of stretching out like he intended though, his arm landed on something that cause it do bend at an awkward angle, as if draped over something. Eddie cracked his eyes open again and lifted his head slightly. It took him a moment to process it, but he eventually realized there was someone else laying under the blankets with him, still sleeping peacefully.

While bringing someone home with him from The Hideout wasn’t a completely uncommon occurrence, it didn’t happen very often. And, when it did, he was always sober enough to remember it once he woke up in the next day. Right now, though, Eddie couldn’t even remember how he got home from the bar last night, much less remember bringing someone home with him.

Though Eddie’s head was still pounding, the idea of sleep was forgotten. He started wracking his brain, trying to piece together the previous night.

Corroded Coffin had a Saturday night gig at The Hideout. That much he remembered. It ended up being a fantastic show. All of their friends came out for it, and they drew in a fairly large crowd since they were playing on the weekend. Granted, the bar was still under half capacity, but it was one of their largest crowds to date and that was something to celebrate. And, after the show, that’s exactly what everyone had done.

Eddie remembered Steve buying a round of drinks after the performance. He remembered you and him sneaking off to a stall in the men’s room to share a joint. He remembered Gareth ordering a round of shots when the two of you got back. Then Robin ordered a round of drinks after that. And then Jeff ordered another round of shots after that. At some point, he vaguely remembered tequila getting involved. But, after that, there was nothing until just a little bit ago when he woke up.

After thinking on it for a while, he gave up on trying to remember, figuring that would come back later. But Eddie was curious now. He reached over to gently pull the blanket down a bit to see who it was he ended up taking home with him.

Eddie froze, still holding the blanket.

You. You were lying next to him in bed.

Eddie’s mind whirled, his heart pounding as loudly as his head by this point.

You’d never been in bed with him before, even just to sleep. There were only a few times you’d ever stayed over, only on nights when you couldn’t drive home or the weather was bad, but he always slept on the couch those nights so you could have the bed to yourself. There had to be a logical explanation for this.

Out of curiosity, he lifted the edge of the blanket and looked down.

Eddie’s heart stopped.

You both were completely naked.

He stared down at your bodies as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

You were laying with your arms folded against your chest and half on your stomach, which blocked your private areas from his view. All he could really see the full length of your bare leg all the way up past the curve of your ass to your hip.

Your hip that currently had a hand on it, which was neither his nor yours.

Eddie sat up hurriedly. It was quite a shock realizing there was a third person in bed with you two, but that was nothing in comparison to the shock of seeing who exactly it was.

Curled up on your other side was none other than Steve Harrington.

Once again, it took a moment for Eddie to comprehend what he was seeing.

The section of blanket on Steve’s side had slid down some, revealing that he was shirtless. Though, another peek under the blankets revealed that he was just as naked as you and Eddie were.

Fully in shock now, Eddie slowly laid back down. He stared at the ceiling, wracking his brain again in a desperate attempt to remember the night before.

The fog of alcohol and the headache from the hangover blocked off his memory still, so he gave up again and debated on what he should do next.

He supposed he could just leave and come back later after the both of you had left, but that would only delay the inevitable. You two would still be waking up naked in his bed even if he wasn’t there to see it. Eventually, this would need to be addressed if you all wanted any sort of friendship after this. It was going to be awkward when the two of you woke up. That much he knew for sure.

Now in desperate need in of a smoke, Eddie carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake either of you. He found a pair of sweatpants among his laundry scattered about on the floor. As he pulled them on, he noticed your clothes and Steve’s flung haphazardly around the room, along with the clothes he had been wearing last night. He swallowed heavily, quietly heading from the bedroom.

As he made a pit stop in the bathroom, Eddie was still trying to figure out how you all ended up in bed together. He knew what it looked like. He was well aware of what it looked like. But it couldn’t possibly have been that. No way. He’d never been drunk or high enough to act on his attraction to either of you. The only thing he could think of was that all you all started feeling hot from the alcohol, stripped down to cool off and just fell asleep. That had to be it.

But then as he went to leave the bathroom, he glanced in the mirror and did a double take. Scattered along his upper chest, neck and shoulders were hickies and bite marks of various sizes and shades.

Stunned, he stared at himself for a moment. He turned slowly then turned to get a good look at the rest of his body. While there wasn’t any more hickies that he could see, streaked down his back were several dark pink welts that were clearly nail marks. In addition to that, just above his shoulder blades were a few crescent shaped bruises, like someone had dug their nails into his back while holding onto him.

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He met his own gaze in the mirror.

“What the fuck did you do?” he said softly to his reflection.

In the living room, Eddie found evidence that you three had hung out here for a while before migrating to his bed. A few empty beer bottles littered the coffee table and a half-smoked joint sat in the ashtray. Eddie slipped on his jacket and sneakers before grabbing the joint on the way to the front door.

This morning called for something stronger than a cigarette now.

Trying to stay quiet, he left the front door partially open and gently closed the screen door. The sun was even brighter now that he was outside, which immediately got in Eddie’s eyes and made him wince. His head was throbbing even more now that he was up, which, as predicted, was starting to make his stomach queasy. He lit the joint first, hoping to calm his nerves as well as the effects of the hangover. Once that was gone, he fished his cigarettes out of his pocket and began chain smoking.

Not too long after Eddie started on his first cigarette, a very groggy, and very hungover, Steve sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes and squinted as he looked around the room. Confusion sat in as he didn’t recognize where he was at first. But then after his gaze landed on a couple of guitars and one heavy metal poster after another, he slowly came to realize he was in Eddie’s bedroom.

This didn’t come as a surprise to Steve though. The plan the night before had always been to come back to Eddie’s place at the end of the night. Nancy had picked the three of you up from there since it was her turn to be the designated driver, so you all had left your vehicles there. While he didn’t remember coming to bed, he had vague memories of sharing a cab with you and Eddie once the bar had closed, well after Nancy and the others had left. He remembered you three wanted to continue partying and you two decided you were staying the night. Wayne was out of town that weekend for work training, so Eddie was all for having you two over for the night.

As Steve went to swing his legs out of bed, a sudden throbbing in his head made him double over slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs, eyes squeezed closed and slightly watering.

Getting drunk is always a good idea until the next day.

Halfway through his third cigarette, Eddie heard someone stirring in the trailer through the screen door. Whoever it was, be it you or Steve, was trying to be quiet, but the creaky floor wasn’t having it.

Eddie wasn’t any closer to figuring out what he was going to do. Leaving still seemed like the best idea, but it was too late for that now. The keys to his van were on the kitchen counter.

Fortunately, whoever was it was didn’t come outside, giving him some more time to compose himself. He listened to them shuffle across the living room, pick up the phone and dial a number.

Whoever they were trying to call didn’t answer because Eddie heard them hang up then try again.

“C’mon, pick up,” a voice muttered from inside.

Eddie couldn’t tell who it was until whoever the person they were trying to call finally answered.

“Robin! Finally!” they whisper yelled. “I’m freaking out over here!”

Eddie finally recognized the voice as Steve’s and some of his nerves eased hearing it was Steve, but he still wasn’t quite ready to face him just yet. Creeping closer to the door, he listened in on Steve’s side of the conversation.

“You’ve gotta help me out, I don’t know what to do!” Pause. “I can’t calm down! I just woke up next to Y/N in Eddie’s bed!” Pause. “Robin, we were both naked!” Pause. “No, I’m not joking!” Pause. “Seriously, Robin, now is not the time for jokes!” Pause. “I don’t know if I had fun, I don’t remember anything after leaving The Hideout!”

Knowing that he wasn’t the only one in the dark made Eddie feel a little better about the whole thing. But then a thought occurred to him, and all of his nerves came back.

In a way, he hoped you wouldn’t remember any it either. There was no telling what your reaction would be to all this. There wasn’t any use trying to deny what happened anymore. The three of you had a threesome last night. Or, at the very least, you and Eddie fucked. That much was obviously for certain judging from the way his own chest and back looked. But, then again, it wouldn’t make much sense why Harrington would be in the same state as you both unless he was also involved too. At least if none of you remembered what happened, that way you would all be a blank slate and could pretend it didn’t happen.

Granted, he didn’t know how that would be possible since you all would know it happened, regardless of whether or not any of you remembered it. But, if that’s what it took to still be friends after all this, he was willing to give it a shot. He didn’t want to lose either of you due to some stupid drunken escapade.

Eddie sighed and took the last drag off his cigarette as Steve was finishing his call.

Time to face the music.

He stepped back into the trailer as Steve was hanging up the phone. Steve didn’t hear him at first, giving Eddie the chance to get a look at him.

While Steve had pulled on his jeans, he was still shirtless, giving Eddie a good view of his torso. He could see some nail marks down his back, as well as a few hickies on his neck and shoulders.

There was one question answered, at least.

The sound of the screen door closing made Steve finally turn around, revealing more hickies across his chest. A sheepish look came over his face when he saw Eddie.

“Uh, hey,” Steve said, running his hand through his hair nervously. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Eddie said, fiddling with his rings nervously.

A brief silence fell over the two men.

“Y/N’s naked,” Steve suddenly blurted out, and then pointed towards Eddie’s bedroom. “In your bed. Back there.”

Eddie nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, swallowing heavily. “Yeah, I saw.”

“So was I,” Steve said, and once again run his hand through his hair. “Completely naked. Next to Y/N. In your bed.”

Eddie nodded again.

“Yeeeah,” he said slowly. “I, uh, was naked, too. With you two. In my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he swallowed heavily. He looked in the direction of the bedroom then back to Eddie.

“Do you think we…you know?” Steve asked, gesturing between the two of them and the bedroom, then gave the air a little thrust of his hips, as if he didn’t want to say what he was thinking.

“Obviously,” Eddie said, and gestured between the two of them. “Look at us, man. We had a pretty wild night from the looks of it.”

At Eddie’s words, Steve looked down at his chest. His eyes were wide as he slowly looked back up at Eddie.

“What the hell should we do?” Steve whisper yelled, looking close to panicking.

“I have no idea!” Eddie whisper yelled back. “I can’t say I’ve ever woken up like this before, much less with either of you!”

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Steve sighed.

“Man, this is crazy,” Steve said, which Eddie nodded in agreement with. Then Steve sighed, his arms crossing over his chest. “Maybe…we should see how Y/N feels about it first?”

Eddie brightened.

“Good idea,” he said hurriedly, feeling somewhat relieved the overall outcome wouldn’t be on his shoulders. “If Y/N’s fine with it, then I’m fine with it.”

Steve nodded readily in agreement. He opened his mouth to say something else but cut himself off when the sound of the toilet flushing came from the bathroom down the hall.

Both men whipped their heads around at the sound. Neither of them had heard you get up. Soon, they heard the bathroom door open.

Now it really was time to face the music.

Since facing Steve had gone easier than expected, Eddie braced himself for your reaction. He was fully prepared for a meltdown. He expected you to be upset, and even braced himself for tears. He expected some yelling, possibly some screaming. There might even be some accusations, though the possibility of you thinking anything like that made Eddie’s stomach clench. He hoped you would know that he would never take advantage of you while you were drunk…but, then again, could he really say that since he didn’t even remember what happened? The very idea alone made his stomach clenched even tighter.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were dressed in your clothes from the night before. You were humming softly, which struck Eddie as strange considering the circumstances. You usually didn’t hum all that much, just when you were in an exceedingly good mood. This didn’t really strike Eddie as an occasion where you would be in a good mood though.

As you started to turn into the kitchen, you looked up and saw them in the living room.

“Morning fellas,” you said, smiling brightly at them both before ducking into the small kitchen.

They could hear you start to open cabinet doors. Eddie and Steve both looked at each other, deep confusion on their faces. It didn’t seem like you were bothered by the state of things at all. Maybe you hadn’t put two and two together yet? You woke up alone in bed, so it was possible.

You came back a moment later and stood in the doorway to the living room. A box of cereal was tucked under your arm, and you were eating it dry right out of the box with your free hand.

Aside from the crunch of cereal and the sounds drifting in from the outside, the room was silent. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence but wasn’t really an uncomfortable one either. It was just a silence.

Eddie started rubbing the back of his neck nervously, his gaze flicking repeatedly between you and Steve. Steve was in a similar state, one of his feet tapping anxiously and he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms, his eyes looking between you and Eddie. You seemed to be the only one relaxed, munching on your cereal and looking between the two men.

It seemed like everyone was waiting on someone else to start talking first.

After some time of this, you cleared your throat, which made them both look back over at you.

“Uh,“ you finally said, smiling shyly at them. “Hi.”

“Hi,” said both Eddie and Steve at the same time.

“I, uh,” you said, then stopped to clear your throat. “I had a lot of fun last night.” you said.

Before either of them could process what you just said, you started laughing nervously and shook your head.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushing a soft pink. “That was a really weird thing for me to say after everything. I mean, obviously, I had fun.”

Eddie exchanged another look with Steve, then back to you.

Now you were the one who looked nervous, taking their silent exchange of a look for something else.

“Did, did you two have fun, too?” you asked, shifting on your feet.

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, um, that’s the thing, Princess,” he said, then stopped, unsure of how to phrase things.

“We were, uh,” Steve continued after a moment. “Actually trying to figure all that out. What happened last night, I mean.”

Your eyes widened at their words, and you looked back and forth between the two again.

“You guys don’t remember?” you asked.

Both men shook their heads.

Your mouth dropped opened in shock.

“Exactly h-how drunk were you two last night?” you asked softly.

“I don’t remember leaving The Hideout,” Eddie confessed, with a shrug.

“I barely remember the cab ride here,” Steve said. “Nothing after that though.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, an expression of horror on your face.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you said, your voice remorseful and you looked on the verge of tears. “I had no idea you guys were that drunk, I swear!”

“No no no!” Eddie said, taking a few steps forward so he could rest a hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

All of a sudden, a very sheepish look came to you face and your cheeks flushed a bright pink.

“Actually, um,” you said. “I kind of initiated the whole thing.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What whole thing?” Steve asked, voice quiet and tinged with awe.

There was another moment of silence.

“You know,” you finally said, then gestured between the three of you, as if you were hesitant to say it. “Us. Having sex. It was my idea.”

There was a lot longer than just a moment of silence after that one.

Steve nearly fell over where he was standing but managed to catch his balance.

Eddie’s hand dropped from your shoulder in shock to hang limply at his side.

Now that it was confirmed, Eddie tried once again to remember the night before. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The fog of alcohol was still too thick to penetrate with his head in the state it was and straining to think didn’t do anything but make the headache worse.

“So, um,” Steve said, finally breaking the silence and making Eddie look up. “H-How did it happen?”

“Well,” you said slowly, swallowing a bite of cereal. “We’ve all been flirting pretty heavily with each other for a while now, and I’ve had a thing for both of you for a long time before that.” A bashful grin came to your face then. “So, I may have gotten a little buzzed and handsy at the bar, and you both were into it. After we came back here, we had a few more drinks and, well…” You cleared your throat and looked down shyly. “I decided to try my luck and asked if you two wanted to have sex with me.”

Both Eddie and Steve stared at you in shock.

“You’ve had a thing got us for a while?” Eddie said when he finally found his voice again.

You nodded.

There was a short pause in the conversation as they processed this.

“Well?” Steve said after abit. “What’d we say?”

Eddie looked over at him with a raised brow. As if their answer wasn’t obvious already.

“Truthfully, not much,” you said as you looked up. “It escalated pretty quickly after that. Though, you both did double check to make sure I fully understood what I was saying after the alcohol and weed.” A warm smile came to your face. “I thought that was really sweet.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to look down shyly.

The room was got quiet again.

“But you said you had fun, right?” Steve suddenly asked. You nodded in confirmation. “Then that must mean we did good, right?”

Eddie looked over at Steve, gawking at him. While this was an entirely new situation for him, Eddie was pretty sure it was in poor taste to ask for a report card after having a threesome.

To his surprise, you didn’t seem to mind. Biting your bottom lip, you grinned and nodded.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin himself then, a boost of confidence suddenly coming back. It briefly made him forget about the oddness of this situation.

“Yeah?” he asked, then decided to be bold. “How good?”

Now you were blushing again.

“Well, I’m pretty sore today,” you said, your voice going a bit higher pitched, so you had to clear your throat before continuing. “You both were pretty enthusiastic all night.”

It wasn’t too long after that you had to leave since you were supposed to meet up with family later on. The three of you kept conversation light as you and Steve finished dressing, talking about your plans for the day.

Once you got ready to leave, you gave them each a soft kiss on the lips.

“Hopefully once the hangovers go away you guys will remember some of it,” you said with a smile as you headed for the door.

“I sure as hell hope so, Princess,” Eddie groaned before he could stop himself.

While he turned red at his own words, you giggled at him as you opened the door to leave. It was the first time Eddie had ever heard that sound from you and it made his heart speed up. It gave him even more of his confidence back.

“If we don’t remember, any chance there could be a redo?” Eddie asked before he could talk himself out of it.

You froze in mid-step halfway out the door and turned quickly to look at Eddie. The shock on your face was almost comical. A quick glance over at Steve showed him staring at Eddie in horror. Looking back at you, Eddie gave you his biggest grin and winked at you, which he was delighted to see made you blush.

“Um, I-I don’t know,” you said, and then a grin of your own slowly spread across your face. “Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You sent a wink back at Eddie before leaving then. Steve wasn’t too far behind, heading out himself just a few minutes later.

Plopping down on the couch as he listened to Steve’s car driving away, Eddie sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Initially, he didn’t have plans for today, but now he knew what he was going to spend the rest of his day doing.

Trying to remember fucking his two very hot best friends.

[theultraviolencesblog]

[copycatkillerfics]

Head Over Heels / Code Lime Green (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

Summary: Dustin’s code red — the one that disrupted your perfectly good night — turned out to be a false alarm. But maybe racing across town wasn’t so bad after all.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: curse words, self indulgent fluff

(Note: this fic does not follow any timeline that is canonically possible.)

I do not consent to my work being uploaded on any other platforms, translated, nor copied.

A/N: I’m 90% sure this trope has been written before, if not already overdone. But I wanted to try my hand at fluff, so I hope that’s okay ;)

Wether it be through comments, shares, asks, or anything, all feedback is appreciated!

check out my masterlist!

You ran through the halls, your shoes screeching loudly on the grimy tiles that were usually being trampled on by you and your classmates.

Except now the school was eerily quiet, only your laboring breaths disrupting the silence.

Ignoring the snarls from teachers who stayed after hours and cutting every corner, you finally burst into the drama room, exactly where Dustin told you to meet him. He was incredibly specific, his voice urgent and blaring from the walkie he had given you last summer:

“CODE RED. I repeat, CODE RED! Meet me in the drama room NOW.”

A rush of cold flooded your veins at the message. You grabbed the device and you were in your car not a minute later. You sped down the streets like a madman - running stop signs and steering so erratically that you almost hit a squirrel.

As Dustin’s frantic words echoed in your mind, the most horrific scenarios conjured:

Is there another gate open?

Have any monsters gotten into the school?

Is Will okay?

You held your breath as if it were your last the entire way to the drama room.

Now, exactly where Dustin needed you, you find that there is. . . absolutely nothing wrong.

No danger. No demogorgons. No commotion.

It was just the Hellfire Club.

Actually, it was just two members of the Hellfire Club: Dustin and Eddie, folding DnD game boards and collecting stray figurines.

What the hell is going on?

An unworried, completely normal Dustin looks at you and smiles. It’s the same smile he wore when he finally beat Max’s score in Frogger. The expression quickly devolves into something more confused, however.

“Why are you breathing so hard?” he asks.

“You. . . You said ‘code red.’”

“Yeah? So?”

You throw your hands up with a dry laugh. “Have I gone mental? Code red is worst case case scenario. Just last week you were complaining that I’m always late to code reds and to rush.”

He tsks. “Yeah, because you are always late. But now you’re here, right on time, and I need a ride home.”

You gape at him, your fists clenched so tightly you think you might break your fingers.

“. . .Your code red was needing a ride home from Hellfire?”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Yeah.”

Eddie - a presence you had completely forgot about until this moment - snickers from the corner. Your gaze shoots to him, eyes filled with rage daring him to laugh again. He puts his hands up in a surrender and quickly ducks his head.

He hopes you didn’t see him blush.

“Dustin,” you continue with a sigh, “that’s, like, a code, I don’t know. Lime green or something.”

“That’s not a thing. Lime green means nothing.”

“You are deliberately missing the point here.” You groan. “Why couldn’t Eddie have taken you home?”

Holy shit.

You know his name.

You didn’t call him “freak” or anything, either. You called him by his name.

And, damn, did it sound good from your lips.

As you continued fighting with Dustin, Eddie watches, somewhat entertained but mostly freaking the fuck out because you’re in the drama room after a Hellfire session.

Embarrassingly, Eddie has imagined this scene often. You, coming to Hellfire. Maybe to go on a date or just to see him.

He’s imagined a lot of things, admittedly. You drinking coffee he made for you, you in his arms as you watch a movie together, you next to him in the school cafeteria.

You laughing at one of his jokes. You kissing him. Even you simply standing next to him.

You, you, you.

A few short weeks ago, as he watched you through not-so-discrete glances in English class, biting your lips in concentration as you took notes, Eddie decided he’s had enough of imagining.

He decided that he was going to talk to you, ask you out, and hopefully go on a date with you. If you don’t burst into laughter the second he starts asking, that is.

Either way, the girl of his dreams or the worst heartbreak known to man, he vowed to talk to you.

The first time he tried went very poorly.

He waltzed up to your locker, an entire speech prepared.

But he’s pretty sure he just ended up staring at you for three minutes straight.

“What?” You asked, looking confused and a bit terrified.

Eddie realized that he came over, leaned on the locker next to your’s, and did nothing.

Absolutely

fucking

nothing.

“Shit,” he blurted. You jumped. He hated himself. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to— um.”

As you looked up at him expectantly, realization crashed over him like a tidal wave.

You were too good. Too sweet, too beautiful, too kind.

And Eddie was Eddie. The Freak of the school. The Cult Leader. The Outcast.

You, a gentle wind carrying fallen leaves and stars through the sky, could only ever be a dream.

“I just wanted to know if you had notes I could borrow from last period?” he asked.

You frowned and turned to rummage in your locker. You handed him a page from your notebook. He took it and practically ran.

When he got home that night, to a trailer that would never smell like you or be warmed with you or echo with your laughter, he couldn’t do anything but sulk.

Wayne got over that very quickly.

“Son,” he said, “if this girl has you wrapped around her finger this tight already, then there’s no harm in tellin’ her how you feel.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“But what if she does?”

It was two weeks after that endeavor that he saw you again, your nose in a book and your eyes lighting up and your smile making his heart ache.

He thought of his vow and Wayne’s words and you — always you. And he was again resolved that he would talk to you. He just needed a little help.

He almost thought that he would never hear the end of it after he asked Dustin about you during lunch.

“How do you, Dustin Henderson, the boy who wears Weird Al t-shirts and thinks it’s cool, know her?”

“Weird Al is cool, and she used to be my babysitter.”

Gareth was the first to joke: “You wish she was your babysitter, huh?”

Then Jeff: “He wishes she was his anything.”

“Very clever,” Eddie said.

“The rebel and the babysitter,” Gareth joked, again. “You guys could be a John Hughes movie.”

Wheeler tried to have his fun, but Eddie promptly cut that off, “Shut up!”

But he thinks all of that may have been worth it because shit, you know his name.

Dustin was eager to help Eddie get to this point. To you. (“She’ll be yours in no time, Eddie. Just let me pull a few strings.”

“Okay, well. That makes it sound like you’re going to kidnap her.”

“If that’s what it comes to.”

“Ah. How comforting.”)

And you’re here, just like Dustin promised and how Eddie imagined. Dreamt. Fantasized.

The kid actually did it.

Eddie is definitely getting him a new D20 die for this.

Dustin shakes his head in disbelief. “You are especially grumpy tonight.”

“I am not.”

“Eddie, don’t you think she’s being grumpy?”

Dustin looks to him expectantly, his eyes widening as if to say, “Here’s your chance, man. I’m serving it to you on a silver platter. Take it!”

Take it!, Eddie thinks, nodding. Take it! What are you waiting for?

“I-I think the lady is being very reasonable,” he blurts, his voice shaking in and out of an embarrassingly terrible British accent.

He can’t believe he opened his mouth at all.

Why did he just say ‘the lady?’ Why did he put on an accent? Why did he think he was prepared for this? Why—

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say. “See? He gets it.”

A better question, he realizes, is why hasn’t he mustered the guts to speak to you before?

He’s opening his mouth again, bolder with your receptiveness, and he doesn’t know what comes over him when he says, much shakier than he intended, “Your pajamas are cute.”

You freeze, eyes boring into his. Your angry expression softens as you become flustered. Your lips twitch into a smile, your cheeks flush.

“O-Oh.” You look down at your outfit - your baggiest pants on with ‘Tears for Fears’ plastered across them. “Ha. Thanks.”

“I love them.”

“You do?”

No, Eddie does not love Tears for Fears. But he thinks he might be in love with you, so he will buy their album on his way home and try to love Tears for Fears.

“Hell yeah,” he lies, for now. “They rock.”

You smile and Eddie thinks his knees might give out.

You have gone over this moment a million times in your mind. How you would greet Eddie, talk to him, laugh at every one of his jokes. In your wildest dreams he would get down on one knee the minute you smiled at him, but that seemed a bit hasty.

Point is, you had this moment all planned out since your big fat crush on him started. Right down to the little details.

Clearly, as you stumble over every word and wring your fingers together, your planning was no use whatsoever.

“How was the, um, campaign?” You ask, so timid that you bite your tongue after in shame.

But he smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show, and suddenly you don’t think this is going too poorly.

“Really great,” he answers. “Better now,” he adds, and he wants to die because of it until you giggle at the corniness and now he wants to live just to make it happen again.

Dustin, on the other hand, wants to hurl.

“Okay,” Dustin interjects. “I’m glad my plan is going well, but I have a curfew and my mom will be irate if I don’t get home soon.”

“Plan? What plan—”

“Okay, let’s go!” Eddie jumps over a chair to get to you and ushers you out of the door. “Wouldn’t want Dustin to suffer the wrath of his mother. Or mine, really,” he muttered.

All of your questions fade away as Eddie’s hand rests on your lower back, guiding you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you to your car?” he says.

You nod. You try not to seem too disappointed when his hand falls from you.

You ask, “How’s your band coming along?”

“You know about Corroded Coffin?”

You giggle, again. “Of course I do. You guys rock as harder than Tears for Fears.”

Eddie can feel his heart beat all over his body.

“It’s going, um, fine. We only play for a few drunks, but it’s something.” His hands start trembling. “You should come see us, if you haven’t already. Tuesdays at—”

“At the Hideout,” you finish for him.

He huffs something akin to a laugh. He pushes open the door at the end of the hallway and you step outside.

“Make yourself known next time you come,” he says. “It would be nice to know there’s a pretty girl in the crowd cheering us on.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed. You smile at him, unable to form words much less string together a sentence.

He smiles widely back at you. You can feel his warmth from how close you’re standing. You can feel the toe of his shoe pressed to yours. You can hear the hitch in his breath and see the determination in his eyes.

He’s is about to say something when Dustin interjects,

“This is taking way longer than I thought it would. Can we please—”

“Dustin,” you bite, strident, cold, and suddenly sobered from your lovesick haze. “Remember that campaign when I Iured a demogorgan out of your estate, nearly jeopardizing my character?”

“You can’t use that every time—”

“How about that one when I fought evil Russians?”

“I don’t see the relevance of either of those—”

“Or when you made me race down here from the other side of town to give you a stupid ride?”

“Okay! Okay! I’m going. Jeez.”

“Henderson.” Eddie stops him. “You put evil Russians in a campaign?”

Dustin glares at you. “Yeah.” He lies through barred teeth.

You smirk, your skin heating with your smugness. Or maybe it’s because you can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheeks as he speaks.

“I thought I taught you better than that, young warrior.”

“I—”

“The car!” You urge.

“Fine!”

“More importantly,” Eddie continues, eyes flitting from Dustin’s retreating figure to you, “you play DnD?”

“I used to, but they don’t let me anymore.” You snort. “They didn’t love having to hold my hand through every step of the game, you know?”

“Not really,” he says. “I’d hold your hand every step of the way.”

You freeze, staring at him wide eyed. He stares back equally surprised at his words.

He knew he would say something to fuck this up eventually. That was too over the line.

He stands in front of you motionless, all of the blood drained from his face. This might be more embarrassing than any moment he’s had tonight, but he just can’t think. Especially not with you looking at him like you are.

“I should probably get home, too,” you say eventually. You stand there for a few moments, hoping he might say something else. When he doesn’t, you bid, “Well, goodnight, Eddie.”

There his name is again, making his stomach flutter and all the courage he has swell in his chest.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” The question escapes lips almost breathlessly as you’re turning away.

Your steps falter. Your breath catches in your throat.

“What?”

“I. . . Christ.” He laughs uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I want to take you out on a date.”

Eddie feels like he can breathe with the question off his chest. Now it’s all up to if you’re going to hate his guts after this or the impossible — you liking him back.

You smile, you actually fucking smile, and ask, “Do you actually want to take me out on a date or do you still claim Tears for Fears rocks?”

With a small groan, he drags his hands down his face. “Saw through that, did you?”

“Like glass.”

He shakes his head disparagingly and, with another breath of courage, steps closer to you. “I can dig Tears for Fears.”

“You can?”

“Sweetheart, I’d listen to nails on a chalkboard if it meant you’d give me a chance.”

He’s once again so close that if you leaned in just slightly, you could press your lips to his. You could pull him in by the collar and taste him. Feel him. Have him feel you.

But instead, you kiss him on the cheek. “Have their album memorized by Friday and I’ll consider it,” you say, sarcasm coating your words like honey.

He chuckles, a boyish delight bright in his eyes.

As you turn on your heel and walk toward your car, you hear him call, “I’ll pick you up Friday at 7!”

“6!” You call back as you climb behind the wheel. Dustin lets out a small, “Finally.”

Dustin is almost bouncing in the passenger seat when he asks, “Did he ask you out?”

A strangled sound of surprise escapes your lips. “Why would you ask that?”

“That was the whole reason I called you down here.”

A beat.

Then, “Your code red was Eddie?”

“Seriously, do I have to connect all of the dots for you?”

He rolls his eyes as you continue to stare at him, utterly perplexed.

“Eddie has had a crush on you since forever but he never had the guts to talk to you. Thus, my genius plan to get you to come to the drama room. Thus, your date.” He sighs. “Must I continue?”

You let his words sink in, your breaths shallow and your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

Holy shit.

“I’m like Cupid,” he says cheerily.

“I don’t think Cupid ever reveals his master plan, Dustin.” You laugh. “He also doesn’t make me run around school when I could be home watching TV.”

“Well, he just got you a date, which is much better than any Family Ties rerun.”

Eddie waves at you as you drive out of the parking lot, a smile brighter than the moon igniting one of your own.

“Yeah,” you say dreamily. “I guess so.”

You are so getting Dustin a milkshake on the way home.

Eddie Munson taglist: @chickpeadumpsterfire @luvslogan (having a taglist is insane!! I feel so cool. Thank you for reading 💗!)

[jamiebby-deactivated20221206]

Crush

❥ Peter Ballard x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none i guess

Request: a fluff one with peter having a crush on reader

idk writing a good fluff im sorry, good afternoon <3

Peter couldn't understand how he looked so pathetic around you. Today, he ended up dropping one of the children's toy. You helped him of course, his pupils almost exploding as he looked at you. You smiled a bit, you tried to seem nice to him. You always thought, by the way he looks at you, he hates you — maybe drama this part, but on your mind he absolutely doesn't like you.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly.

"I am" He said, getting up quickly. you laughed softly, still sitting on the floor, putting the toy pieces together. You sighed, trying to understand why he doesn't like you. He always seems so nice with the others but you.

"Why do you hate me?" You asked looking at him, he frowned. He bent down, one knee on the floor.

"Why would you ever think that?" He asked softly looking at you.

"You look so nice to everyone here but me" You said, your lips raising a little smile like it's not that important.

"Actually I feel a total idiot around you" 'and you are' you thought to yourself "But not because I hate you" You look up at him, your head resting on your shoulder. "Believe me, I hate every person here but you"

"So ignore me and pretend I don't exist is the way you say you like me?" You said chuckling. And he cursed himself for smile, he loved your laugh.

"Possibly, and I think it didn't work right?" He asked, picking up the toy and putting the last piece.

"It didn't, but you can work on it, we have all the time you know" You said and he helped you to stand up as if you were nothing. You smiled at him before came back.

As the days passed, Peter changed with you. it helps you with even the smallest things you need to do, like throwing a paper in the trash or tying your shoe — by the way, he always thinks you do it on purpose, since your shoe is always untied.

When he started sneaking into your room, he likes to read to you until you fall asleep in his arms. Whenever you wake up, he's gone. And you totally understand. You just wished it was different.

Peter thought about tell you his plans, but he was afraid you would leave him. But he would never touch you like that, and he'd rather die than hurt you.

"I love you Peter" He came out of his thoughts with your soft voice whispering into his chest "I wish we could get out off of here"

"I love you" He said, his fingers playing with your hair "Would you escape with me, darling?" He asked, and you got your head up.

"I would go anywhere with you" You said smiling.

"It makes my happy, sweetheart" He said smiling back at you. And he decided he would give you the world, even if he would have to kill everyone. The only world he wants it's you, and not the world polluted with these monotonous people. He wants a universe that is just the two of you.

[halfmoth-halfman]

the little things

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

The first time is purely by accident. 

It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise. 

Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.

Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork. 

Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.

“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed. 

“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?” 

“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly. 

“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”

Soap makes a note to ask about that story later. 

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”

“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.” 

There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes. 

“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.

“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.

“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.

“Really?”

“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary. 

“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back. 

Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway. 

“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod. 

“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man. 

Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office. 

-

The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened. 

Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard. 

Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own insistence and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others. 

You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after. 

When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep. 

When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.

-

The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church. 

He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry. 

They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated. 

They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-

“The mask. Take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice. 

“Holy hell, where have you been?”

“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.

“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.

“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”

Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”

“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church. 

“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade. 

It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-

“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question. 

“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”

-

The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back. 

“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.

“¿Quién está ahí?”

Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out. 

“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife. 

“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm. 

“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you. 

“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.

“Your leg-”

“Looks worse than it is.” 

Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.

“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.

“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.

“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.

“For you? Always.”

“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg. 

-

By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.

“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back. 

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.

“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?” 

“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow. 

“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.

“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.

“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug. 

“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”

-

“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from. 

“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain. 

“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself. 

Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever. 

Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.

Your last name is Riley.

[halfmoth-halfman]

the little things

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

The first time is purely by accident. 

It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise. 

Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.

Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork. 

Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.

“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed. 

“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?” 

“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly. 

“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”

Soap makes a note to ask about that story later. 

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”

“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.” 

There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes. 

“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.

“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.

“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.

“Really?”

“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary. 

“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back. 

Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway. 

“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod. 

“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man. 

Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office. 

-

The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened. 

Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard. 

Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own instance and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others. 

You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after. 

When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep. 

When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.

-

The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church. 

He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry. 

They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated. 

They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-

“The mask. Take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice. 

“Holy hell, where have you been?”

“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.

“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.

“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”

Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”

“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church. 

“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade. 

It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-

“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question. 

“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”

-

The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back. 

“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.

“¿Quién está ahí?”

Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out. 

“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife. 

“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm. 

“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you. 

“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.

“Your leg-”

“Looks worse than it is.” 

Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.

“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.

“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.

“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.

“For you? Always.”

“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg. 

-

By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.

“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back. 

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.

“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?” 

“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow. 

“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.

“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.

“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug. 

“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”

-

“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from. 

“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain. 

“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself. 

Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever. 

Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.

Your last name is Riley.

[00000000000000000000000000004]

So I had an idea...

[cactaofolio]

[bgalvinoart]

Tsuyu and her friend 💚 (in progress)

[deaconusdelirium]

Unsuspecting Visitor

———

Take this, very ooc? Or in character? Of our dear Danny:)

Warning: Danny being a stalker, strangers to lovers, sleep deprived reader, fluff, shitty movie references

———

The night was long, almost lonely, and insomnia was no joke. It was almost two in the morning and there was no sign of sleepiness whatsoever, walking towards the kitchen, your phone rang, hearing the same tune as always.

Unknown number calling…

Odd, no one ever called that was ‘unknown’ so with little entertainment you had left, you picked it up. “Hello?” The other end wasn’t surprising. Dead. One last attempt, “hello?” The call ended, at least it was something to think about while you grabbed a drink. The phone rang again, unlike being yourself during the day, you answered with the same calm tone, “you hung up” a small quick ‘oh’ and a hand over your mouth made the person on the other side laugh. “Who’s this?” Furrowing your brows, you looked at the number then put it back to your ear.

“Guess” it seemed he only talked in short answers, “mm, I don’t know” truth be told, you couldn’t think of anyone, he certainly didn’t sound like anyone you knew. He groaned, “aren’t you just adorable when you make that face” his voice sounded clear yet, scratchy, eyes widening. You looked around, the curtain was closed, the door was locked and so were the windows.

“Don’t do that, I’ve already seen you. Hundreds of times, and every time I see you, you just tend to stand out more” he sighed, “what do you want?” “Oh nothing, nothing. Thought I would drop by since you haven’t turned your lights off. And I was bored, why not pass the time with one of my favorite hobbies?” His smile was basically heard as he ended his sentence.

Swallowing thickly, you looked around again. “So stalking people is your hobby huh?” Maybe if you could just walk up the stairs and into your room, you could just lose him. “I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like.. watching out for you” he hummed, his voice went farther away from the phone and then he came back, like he was doing something. “And go ahead, give it a try. I’m right behind you sweetheart” did he know of your plan?

You haven’t even said anything yet your escape from this mans prying eyes were ruined. “What do you really want if you know exactly what I’m going to do?” Maybe he would be able to tell you, “like I said love, I’m just passing the time. Speaking of time, why are you up at this hour?” He asked, “I could ask you the same thing, why are you up watching me?” Noticing the sarcasm in your voice, he laughed, “come now, don’t be like that. Is it because you’re trying to… turn your homework in?” He had to have been in your living room, but he didn’t sound like it.

“Maybe, maybe not. Besides, it’s not homework” “don’t lie to me, it’s obviously English. How are you failing a language you already know how to speak?” “Oh, why don’t you go do it then? Show me how it’s done” Wondering if he ended the call, you pulled away and noticed it was still on the line. “I would, but why would I ruin the fun?” “You scared of revealing yourself? Or do you really not know how to do English?” A quick scoff came from him, “I don’t need to tell you that, it’s almost three. You believe in the witching hour?” He teased, “no.” “If you wanna stay safe, I advise you go to bed. That pretty face of yours isn’t going to be so pretty if you keep this up, class can wait”

Was he actually trying to tell you to get some rest? You barely even know the guy, much less seen him and he was already bossing you around. “I don’t have to listen to you, home invader. Besides, I’m not tired” “go to bed Y/n. I promise, I won’t come back” it sounded like a lie. A trap even. “Mmm” “if I could pinky swear, I would, I’m mentally holding it out to you sweet cheeks” “fine, get out of my house, and don’t come back” the call ended and you walked back into the living room. Picking up your laptop, you noticed you fell behind a lesson, it didn’t matter. He was watching, whoever he was, and knowing he wouldn’t leave until you went to bed was a downside.

The rest of the night was quiet, no sound just the soft chirping of the crickets outside. An occasional gust of wind, all calming.

A small ring on your phone lit up the ceiling, checking the message,

Unknown number: go to sleep Y/n

Smiling, you texted back

You: I will, make sure to lock the door

Read

Laying back down, you wondering if he was just kidding. You clearly locked the door and made sure everything was shut, perhaps you forgot to close a blind, yeah. Yeah maybe you did, you wanted to laugh at your recent reply,

Unknown number: I will, now goodnight:)

The front door slammed from downstairs, making you sit up. So he was inside. No no.. it was probably, just your imagination. Insomnia taking play, this is just a hallucination…

———

The sunlight peaked through your curtains, hitting your eyes as you squinted, opening them. Cars driving around already, grabbing your phone. You noticed it was charged, you didn’t plug it in, and your door was closed. You don’t remember doing any of this last night. Then again, you were tired, not being able to recall falling asleep. 11:37 in the morning. 11:37?! Your work was suppose to be turned in at six. Running to your closet, you put on some clothes and opened the door. On the floor was a plate, some French toast with fruits, powdered sugar and tea?

A small note peeked out from in between the handle of the mug, picking it up, ‘it seems I had more time on my hands then I thought. I didn’t poison the food, enjoy<3’

The small heart made you blush, then smile. Grabbing the food and drink, you headed downstairs and into the kitchen again. Setting the food done and grabbing the laptop off the coffee table, this time. Your teacher didn’t email you that your work was missing, opening the grade book, your work was turned it with a hundred percent. Ok.. maybe he wasn’t so bad, but he was still a stranger, who knows, a killer or thug.

The day went on, your work had been done so there was nothing to do. Nighttime came around again, and eating dinner alone wasn’t necessarily new, your phone rang, noticing it was a message

Unknown number: why the long face Y/n? Miss my cooking? Or are you just lonely again?

You: you said you wouldn’t come back

Unknown number: I lied, so what, I’m not committing a crime

You: yes you are, ever heard of trespassing?

Unknown number: yes I have, but you’ve already made me feel at home. Besides, your food doesn’t look too bad

You: what about it? I’m not a great cook, I know that. Why are you even bothering me?

Unknown number: I didn’t say my food was better than yours. For all I know, I haven’t had a bite this evening, and I might just go out and eat with you

Catching your attention, you knew he wouldn’t but he said he might, ok, that was improvement

You: you would never

Unknown number: I could, but I won’t. I just wanna see you sit there and look pretty for me just a little longer

You: fine, you at least going to tell me your name if you want me to stay here?

Unknown number: I’ll pass. After all, you’re the star of the movie, there’s nothing to know about me

You: fine, I’m going to bed

Unknown number: typing

Unknown number:…

-Unknown number has changed their name to Danny-

You: Danny huh? Don’t think I’ve ever met a Danny before

Danny: you’ve got your wish, now stay there

You: don’t know, I still feel uncomfortable with talking to a person I don’t even know who’s stalking me

Danny is calling…

A small huff left your mouth, then answering it. “Don’t be like that Y/n” “I’m still going to bed” “you’re not even tired” “what if I am?” “Then it gives me more time to get to know you personally” did he go through your personal belongings?

“Danny-” “oh Y/n. You sound so good when you say my name” his voice interrupted your sentence. You ended the call, you knew he was in the house, so you stood up. The phone rang, but you left it in your back pocket. Grabbing another plate, you got some food out for Danny. Your phone kept ringing, finally picking it up. “I was kidding!” “Goodnight” “don’t go” “foods on the table” before he could answer, you ended the call and walked to your room again.

———

The next day went as expected, Danny left another note saying your cooking was good and he was surprised you fell asleep at a better time. The next few days went on, becoming weeks and then a month. You’ve got to know him better, his full name, his favorite animal and his favorite food. Just little things, and within that month, you found yourself falling for this ‘Danny’

Tonight was just another one of those nights where everything felt slow, and you knew you weren’t going to bed as easily as you’ve been doing the past few times.

Danny🔪: what would you say to an unsuspecting visitor at this time?

This message was new, he’s never brought up this topic before

Y/n❤️‍🩹: Depends. If it’s family, the doors wide open. If it’s you, stay outside.

Danny🔪: your door isn’t even locked. If you don’t want me coming inside, go lock it

For some reason, you didn’t feel like talking to him tonight. You didn’t get that excited feeling nor did you want him to actually come inside. Standing up, you walked over and locked the door, turning back around to see a black hooded figure holding your laptop on the couch. A yelp made him look your way

“Y/n my darling, might I say you look even more stunning before my very eyes” he joked, time felt fake, and there was no words to explain how you felt “y-you… your., youre Danny?” “Don’t act so surprised sweet thing, we’ve been talking for months, this shouldn’t be scary” the milky white mask he wore, you’ve seen it before. Your mouth was dry, lost for words, you jumped a bit as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as his gloved hands interlocked.

“I don’t bite, come sit down. I promise to keep my hands to myself” he raised his arms, signaling he wasn’t going to do anything. “You promised before, and you broke it. How could I possibly trust you this time?” His hand came under his chin, thinking. “Y/n, my Love. I’ve shown you more of myself to anyone I’ve ever ‘stalked’ if I do touch you, you can chase me out, I swear” he seemed desperate

Carefully walking over, you sat back down on the couch. “Speaking of scary, you got any horror movies?” He seemed very energetic, giddy. “The remotes right there” he grabbed it, turning on the TV and settling for Pyscho. Every now and then he would peek over to see you still doing your work. He checked his phone, it was definitely one in the morning again. It was too quiet for his taste, “you see Y/n, that could be us” he pointed to the part where Norman had that lovesick look in his eye when he spoke to Marion

“You mean the part where he goes and kills her because he pretends to like her?” He groaned, “no, that was his moms doing. You see! There, right there!” He rewinded and pointed to the part where Norman continued to stare at the woman before him. He did smile when you let out a small laugh, “whatever, you keep doing you”

“You mean, the ‘stalking’?” He questioned, his hand having the mind of its own as it made it way towards your leg, he quickly stopped himself. “If that what you call ‘looking out for me’ then I suppose so”

———

Another month went by and Danny seemed to be getting more comfortable and open. He came around a lot earlier in the day, sitting down and eating dinner with you. Watching movies late at night when you couldn’t sleep, or just playing games.

“Danny!” “Y/n!” Punching his shoulder, you glared at him, he had tendencies to be a little inappropriate at times. He rubbed his arm while laughing. You noticed he began to take his gloves off, “you cold or something?” He asked, “why? You hot?” “Only when I look at you” he nudged you, “Danny.” “Ok maybe… yes. If you don’t mind-” he shrugged his black jacket off. And boy did you get an eye full of those beautiful biceps. His black shirt hugged him in all the right places, especially his muscles. His torso was smaller than his broad shoulders and the faint outline of his abs was visible.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” he teased, “wheres your camera?” He was definitely taken back by your remark, “haha, very funny. I don’t want to play this anymore” he whined as he threw the Uno cards in the air as they all landed. You seen he had all the shitty cards, making you laugh and clean the mess up.

Eventually, you both settled for another horror movie, this time it was Silence of the Lambs. Danny kept pointing out every scene where Hannibal flirted with Clarice, “that’s going to be us soon” his hand came to shake your shoulder, he always said similar words whenever there was a romantic scene in a horror movie. It was getting late again, and Danny was quite a handful to keep up with. You swore you only closed your eyes for a second. A minute later, or so you thought, you woke up. Danny was laying on the couch sleeping while you laid on top of him. His mask still on as his arms fell from your sides.

The same nightmare again. It was getting both annoying and unbearable, sliding off of him, you walked towards the kitchen. All the lights were still on, The Boy was playing. Grabbing a glass of water, you leaned against the island, thinking to yourself. A warm hand pressed against between your shoulder blades, “you alright?” “Yeah.. yeah I’m good. Sorry. Um, I have a guest bedroom. You can sleep in there” he was quiet, he turned you around. Grabbing your cup of water, lifting his mask up to his lips and finishing it.

“We we’re doing just fine before,” he pulled your wrist and led you back to the couch. He laid down, then pulled you on top of him again, the sound of screaming from the movie was the only sound to be heard. Danny’s head was turned to the TV, his hand played with your hair, twirling it. “Danny?” His head turned towards you, he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked, your eyes were so intoxicating. “Yeah?” He whispered out, not wanting to disturb the silence. He froze a bit when your hand came up behind his head and played with his short hair under his hood. He soon relaxed as he realized that’s all you did, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the moment

“Can you take the mask off?” He was shocked at your question. His head shook no, you smiled and nodded, understanding. He weighed his options, he’s known you for months and he’s seen all of you. He let you in on his personal life as well, but never seeing his face. “Y/n” he called to you, once you were looking. His hand came to slowly pull his mask off. He watched as you stared at him, knowing you would do this. He looked away, only for you to grab his chin and face him towards you again.

He was nothing like you expected him to be, he was even better. His short but fluffy brown hair, dark brown eyes and a few piercings on his ears, one on his lip, strong jawline. A small scar on his right eyebrow, he got chills when you ran a thumb over his lip piercing. As if on instinct, his lips parted, that when you noticed the black ball on his tongue. “You love decorating yourself don’t you?” He smiled at your joke, his hand coming to grab your wrist that traced his features.

He didn’t notice that he leaned down closer to you until he felt your breath fan over his lips. How long he has waited for this moment to come true. If he could melt, he would, especially when your lips touched his. They were so soft, so loving, kind and gentle, just like you. Never wanting this moment to end, he nipped at your lower lip when you pulled away, making you snicker as his eyes remained closed for a few seconds after the kiss.

He grew worried as you sat up, hands on his chest as you turned around the grab the blanket you always had on the couch. Just then, his gut tightened, already imagining you in this position once again. Your heavenly body meeting his as his hands guided your hips up and down. How your much smaller body was all his to keep, he didn’t care if he was greedy. He wanted you all to himself, and that was exactly what he was going to do. But for you, sleep was on your mind as you laid back down, but on his side so you could see the TV too.

He couldn’t recall having a moment like this in his life, ever. So with careful movements, he wrapped an arm around you and held you as you both watched The Boy. He hugged you tighter when Brahms kissed Greta, “that’s us” only to be short lived when she stabbed him, his grip loosened on you, “just don’t do that to me” “I don’t plan on it, now hush” even after you told him to be quiet, he continued to point out every scene and make a comment. Surely this was his favorite night of all.

———

I was bored, I was watching horror movies, and just got done playing DBD. What better way to spend these slow nights than writing a small fic?

[writinandcrying]

Juno: WHY does every guy wants to hook up with off white bugs bunny I simply don’t get it 🙄

Juno : *spends 30 minutes with haru*

Juno:

[reinersrighttiddy]

Stalemate - Reiner x GN! Reader

Howdy again, everyone. Sorry I didn't post this last night, I was up late editing! I'd begun writing this before I'd created this blog. Sorry for all the requests that I haven't been able to complete yet. I'll be posting one either today or tomorrow!

If you can't tell from my previous stories, music is very dear to me. This fic is based off of a song I've written, so I truly hope you all enjoy it.

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers

CW: Manga Spoilers, Adult Language

Word count: 7.7k

Summary: Three years after the rumbling, your grudge against your colleague is still standing tall, the two of you butting heads on and off for nearly a decade. Your best friend tries to talk you out of it, and you realise that you're tired of playing this game and pretending you hate him.

The thing about titans that really pissed you off was the fact that they were one hundred percent human. And, although not obvious to others, it was painfully real to you. The way they mindlessly hunted, consumption unending, was exactly like every person you’d ever met. Humans selfishly thirst for power the way titans hungered for humans. And even though they were all gone, you couldn’t help but see the resemblance in day to day life.

“(Y/N), you’re staring off again.” Armin nudged your shoulder softly, concern written across his brow. You shrugged off his shoulder with a thoughtless thanks before standing from your seat on the ship, rolling your head to stretch the muscles in your neck. You excused yourself, heading to the engine room to get away from your colleagues.

“Wonder what’s up their ass again,” Connie humphed while twiddling with the compass atop the map of Paradis, walking it across the table. Armin sighed, closing his eyes while he rested his head upon his palm.

“They’re probably sick of your horrible jokes, Connie.” Annie pointed, mimicking Armin’s position of exhaustion on the table.

“I’m concerned about them. They’ve been like this since before the rumbling ended.” Pieck wondered aloud, looking back towards the door you’d just walked out of.

“They’ve been like this since we’ve met them,” Connie added, directing the snark of his comment towards Annie’s unbothered figure.

“You know that isn’t true. They’ve only been like this since…” Armin cut himself off, slouching even farther in his chair.

“Since Reiner showed us the Armored Titan.” Jean finished, inserting himself into the conversation at the chance to poke at Reiner. The scruffy blonde shook himself awake from his dozing at the mention of his name, unaware of the small commotion. He noticed your absence quite quickly and looked around for any sign of you before giving Jean a disgruntled look, closing his eyes after.

“Oh, that’s rough. Explains a lot.” Pieck continued the thought as Annie kicked Reiner from underneath the table to keep him awake. Reiner shook back into consciousness and glared at her, Annie shooting back a small smirk. “Why do they hate you so much?”

“Who, me?” Reiner asked innocently, still confused about the conversation. “Who hates me?”

“Take a guess, man,” Jean chuckled, pointing his thumb at the empty seat between him and Armin. Reiner’s curious expression flattened, the divide between his brows deepening as he relaxed into his chair.

“Probably because they knew from day one that Reiner was the Armoured Titan, and none of us believed them until we found out the hard way.” Armin answered Pieck’s question matter of factly, guilt dripping over his features. He was one of the many who had continually called you paranoid, saying that you only made those accusations based off the fact that he had ranked higher than you in the scouts. Your theories were constantly being whittled down to jealousy, some would even go as far as to say you were bothered that Reiner didn’t give you enough attention. But Reiner knew better. He knew that you hadn’t trusted him from the first day you met.

You were exceptional with your omni-directional movement gear, and Reiner was only slightly better than you. It was you who had introduced yourself, asking for his help as he practiced in a remote environment. He declined all too quickly, excusing himself to join the rest of the cadets. You immediately felt that his vibe was off, especially seen as it was only a few days later that he was giving Eren Jeager personal lessons. He had to have had some sort of ulterior motive, and you stuck by that gut feeling throughout the rest of your training.

During the battle at Trost, you had seen Marco go off with Annie, Bertholdt, and Reiner, and that same gut feeling arose when you had heard of Marco’s death later that day. After seeing Eren’s transformation, you realised how similarly the Armoured Titan had moved years ago, and came to the conclusion that the only person who relatively resembled the titan or shared its combat skills was Reiner himself.

Reiner shrunk even further in his seat, bringing his hand to rub his temples.

“They can’t possibly still be angry about that. I get treated with ten times as much respect as Reiner.” Annie examined, kicking her boots onto the table.

“Ten times zero is zero,” Connie muttered, earning a kick in the head from the aloof blonde. Pieck chuckled at the movement, but ceased as Reiner’s shame began to ooze into the auras of the others.

“You look like you know the answer, Reiner.” Pieck indicated, her voice soothing yet inquisitive. Connie, although rubbing his sure to be bruised head, stared at Reiner expectantly, Jean following suit. Armin kept his attention to his lap, letting out a sigh.

“We had… a few arguments. During the Rumbling.”

Connie and Jean sighed dramatically, falling back into their chairs with irritation.

“You seriously never made up? That was ages ago!” Connie complained with disbelief, almost brought to his feet by the revelation.

“And I thought Connie was childish. That’s a new level, man.” Jean huffed and threw his head back as Pieck and Annie stared at each other with discontent. “What the hell were you arguing about that could last this long?”

“We’re about to dock,” you walked back into the room quickly, sitting down at the table. “It’s a long ride to Historia’s farm. Mikasa is meeting us with some horses, so prepare yourselves to move out once we reach land.”

“Understood,” everyone replied, a heavy silence taking over the seated crew. You tried to mind your business in the awkwardness, closing your eyes upon taking your seat, but once you cracked one open, you saw Reiner staring right at you apologetically. You raised your eyebrow in distaste, nudging your head forward in a threatening manner. He retracted fully into his seat, hiding himself behind the hand he leaned on.

It was going to be a long ride to the farm.

---

Historia’s home was very humble for how graceful she was. She had grown into quite the elegant woman, holding her daughter in her arms as if she were made of gold. Her husband was working in the fields when you had arrived, setting up the tents for you and your crew. Historia welcomed the lot of you calmly, probably so as not to cause a commotion for her daughter. She led you through the halls of her home, placing her daughter in bed before returning to the dining room where everyone waited to discuss their lives in the past three years.

The moment the doors of the dining room closed, the whole crowd went off. You were first to run to Historia, engulfing her in a massive hug with a breath of relief.

“(Y/N), you’re- you’re crushing me” Historia squeaked, barely able to move her arms to hug you back. You stood back, holding her shoulders as you got a good look at her. She had an air of sobriety surrounding her, her usual fiery spirit seemingly diminished. All the same, she shared her signature warm smile with you, grateful to be with her best friend once again. “I’ve missed you, (Y/N). You’ve grown so much.”

“I should say the same to you, you look like a proper world leader.”

“It comes with the job,” she joked, holding the hand on her shoulder tightly before turning her attention to the others.

“Jean, Connie, Armin, it’s lovely to see you again.” She shared to the young men, each bowing in respect. “Oh, please save the formalities. Annie, how are you?” She turned to the blonde who was already preparing to take a seat, but quickly bowed politely.

“I’m alright, your majesty. Thank you for bringing us to your home.”

“It’s no problem. Staying in the walls would be far too much trouble for us, anyways. Besides, my husband prefers our time away from the city. Oh,” Historia turned her attention towards Pieck, who was standing beside Annie patiently. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Historia Reiss, Queen of Paradis. You are?”

“Pieck Finger, your highness.” Pieck bowed, but not low enough to seem over the top. Historia shook her hand instead, smiling at the kind energy radiating from her.

“Ah, Reiner, wonderful to see you. How are you?”

“Fine now that we are here, your highness. Thank you.” Reiner bowed fully, creating an awkwardness that even Annie had to grimace at. “How, uh, how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you for asking. Are you all hungry?” Historia wondered aloud, moving away from Reiner as quickly as she spoke to him. You chuckled slightly, Mikasa nudging your ribs to shut you up. You glared at her, but at the notice of a small smirk breaking through, you nudged her shoulder back.

“Very!” Connie remarked, sitting down at the table before anyone else. “What’s for dinner, your highness?” He asked casually, a goofy drawl over the last few words.

“All kinds of food. Tonight’s a night worth celebrating, no?” Historia smiled, the others salivating at the mention of a royal meal. “Feel free to roam around the house and the grounds, but please be careful not to wake my daughter. There won't be any food left for us if she is to wake up, I’m afraid.” Historia joked, walking towards the doors again. She stopped as she reached you and Mikasa, leaning in between the both of you “(Y/N), may I speak with you in private?”

“Of course,” you replied happily, eager to catch up with your friend.

Historia led the two of you away from the dining hall and into her personal room. It wasn’t as grand as a queen’s room would be rumoured to be, but it was just elegant enough to be Historia’s. Once you closed the door behind yourself, Historia sat on the bench at the foot of her bed with a huff, kicking her legs out.

“Tired of ruling already?” You poked, sitting down next to your exhausted best friend.

“I wish I could say that!” Historia laughed in reply, relaxing her body completely. “I’m not used to putting on the royal front in the countryside.”

“I understand that completely. Working overtime, huh?”

“You said it,” she sighed, her calm smile unfaltering. “I wanted to talk to you about your situation, though.”

“My situation? I didn’t know I had a situation.” You stubbornly responded, crossing your arms and looking away childishly.

“Oh, please!” Historia beckoned as she stood, moving to the small desk in the corner of the room. She opened the lowest and largest drawer, filled to the brim with letters. You bared your teeth at the sight, scratching your head.

“Okay, guilty as charged. But that situation isn’t very pressing.”

“Don’t make me repeat my ‘Oh, Please’! You’ve written to me weekly complaining about one of your long term colleagues. It sounds like the definition of pressing!” She took out the latest letter and handed it to you before she took another seat. You opened it while sighing, giving her an uneasy look. “Right there, your words. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can go being in the same room as him. I can’t decide if I want to punch him or if I want to-’”

“Okay, that’s enough, enough, enough.” You closed the letter, crumbling it and throwing it in the rattan bin by the desk. “I just needed to get my feelings out, that's all.”

“And are they?” She pushed, looking at you with a raise of her brows and pursed lips.

“Are they what?” You asked begrudgingly, uncomfortable on the topic.

“Out! Did those letters actually help at all?” You stared at her wall for a second, running your tongue over your teeth with your mouth closed. “As I thought. You need to talk with him, in a level headed manner. Have you even spoken to him at all in the last three years without insulting him?”

“No, but,”

“No buts. When was the last time you had an actual conversation with him? Just him?”

“I haven’t really, but-”

“No buts!” Historia popped your head, standing up once again. “Do you still have the book?”

You sighed at the question, rolling your head back and letting out a grunt. You reached into the small bag across your chest, taking out a well-loved leatherbound notebook, the pages barely fitting in the skin. Historia swiped it off of your hands, rummaging through the pages to find the last time you’d shared it with her.

“Five hundred and thirty six entries since I’ve last seen this. Do you know what that means?” She questioned playfully, waving the book a few times. “You are officially down bad.”

“Oh, shut up!” You snatched the book back, shoving it haphazardly into your pack. “They’re not all about that.”

“Whatever you say,” she threw her hands in the air, turning to the armoire in the other corner. She opened it quickly, taking out an old leather case. Your mood shifted drastically as she handed it to you by the straps, placing it in your lap. You smiled with an infinite brightness as you opened the clasps, revealing the practically ancient guitar your very own grandfather had hand crafted. You ran your fingers across the old redwood, engraved with intricate floral designs. The strings were untouched, steel in pristine condition.

“I can not believe you still have this.”

“What, like I'd just throw it out?” Historia guffawed, heading towards her bedroom door. “Anyway, you’ll have plenty of time to play later. As for now, let’s eat.”

You secured the guitar back in its case before following your best friend through the halls of her home, eager to get a taste of the grand meal. This mission of peace was feeling a lot more peaceful already.

---

“Yeah, that’s an absolute no from me.” Jean remarked, shoving Connie’s face away from him.

“You’re not convincing anybody!” Connie fought back while swatting at Jean’s arms.

It was late in the evening, the sun having set about two hours ago. Annie, Pieck, and Armin were already asleep in their own snore-friendly tent, located far away from the two tents that would house you, Connie, Jean, and Reiner for the night. As Reiner collected firewood for the night owls, you decided to convene with the boys in their own tent, promptly bringing up goofy conversation.

It was no lie that Jean and Connie enjoyed your presence when Reiner was absent. Your mood would shift so drastically that it was like you were a different person. You weren’t afraid to joke around or be vulgar, and the boys had helped you through a few minorly vulnerable moments in the past. The three of you had bonded so close over the last near decade that it was impossible to separate you.

“He’s right, Jean. You’re head over heels for Mikasa, still. It hasn’t changed one bit.” You sipped on your canteen of water as you pestered the poor man, safely away from Mikasa’s ears. She was lucky enough to have landed the spare room in Historia’s home, leaving you with your very own tent for the remainder of the visit.

“I told you!” Connie spat, getting another slap from Jean.

“Why don’t you just make a move already, man? This is the perfect time to talk with her one on one.” You advised. “She’s changed a lot over the last three years. I think she would really like to talk with you.”

“Yeah man, you can get into all her nooks and crannies,” Connie insinuated, wiggling his eyebrows foolishly.

“That’s disgusting, Connie.” A deep voice alerted the three of you to Reiner’s return, your childish demeanour weakening in an instant. “She’s more respectable than that.”

“For once, I agree with you on something.” You sighed, keeping your eyes averted from him. “Seriously, though, Jean. Now is the time.”

“Okay…” Jean began to stand, only for you to pull him back to the floor harshly.

“Not now now! Tomorrow, buddy.” You laughed at Jean’s reddened expression, embarrassed by his will of fire.

“What about you, mister cloudy skies? Planning on making a move on the wedded queen?”

“You are truly a goon, Connie.” You splashed some water in his direction, earning a tongue pointed right at you. “I would kill to see you try, though.” You turned to Reiner, opting to take a teeny slice of Historia’s advice and joke around with him.

“Hah, my pride isn’t nearly big enough.” Reiner responded honestly, releasing a bit of the tension held in his broad shoulders.

“Nor are your muscles. Have you seen mister farmer man? Historia landed a hunk.” You chided, taking another swig of your water.

“Perhaps she did,” Reiner exhaled, disappointment dripping from his words,

“Wait, don’t tell me, are you seriously still lusting over her?” Jean bantered, kicking at Reiner’s shin lightly with his foot.

“Absolutely not. It’s been years, you guys,” Reiner groaned, irritated by the oldest joke he’s ever known.

“Are you sure? That bow earlier was pretty suspicious, my guy.” Connie laughed, causing you to chuckle so hard that water went through your nose. You stood up eagerly, bowing so dramatically that your head nearly hit the floor.

“Your majesty,” you mocked, lowering your voice as many octaves as possible. Jean and Connie howled with laughter, losing their minds over your not so accurate impression.

“C’mon, that’s not funny,” Reiner attempted to defend himself, but you continued to bow again and again, blood rushing to your face as Jean and Connie absolutely lost the plot.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, please forgive me!” You got onto the ground and bowed with all your might, waving your hands up and down in Reiner’s direction.

“You know,” Reiner spoke up, broadening his seated stance. “That’s rich coming from the most heartless person I’ve met on this planet.”

You paused mid bow, head tilting up with shock. Jean and Connie silenced themselves immediately, suddenly shrinking into the background.

“You’ve had it out for me since day one. Day fucking one. And every time I’ve tried to fix it, you’ve shut me out and created more reasons, out of the blue, might I add, to hate me. Every single day for three years I’ve dealt with your condescending attitude. Do you not get sick of hearing yourself?”

“Whoa, big guy, maybe now’s not the-”

“No,” Reiner placed his hand in the middle of Connie’s face, muting him effectively. “Now is the only fucking time. I am so sick of being treated like a piece of trash, when the only trash I can see is your attitude ruining everyone else’s lives every single day.”

“Excuse me?” You stood, squinting your eyes at the sudden outburst.

“Excuse you?” Reiner guffawed, standing to match you. It had been a while since he’d faced you head on, and it was times like these that you remembered just why you shied away from confrontation. Reiner was massive, towering over you by nearly a whole foot. When his disposition darkened like this, you felt as afraid as you did the day you discovered your intuition was true. “Excuse you? What do I have to possibly excuse, when you are constantly having a go at me, constantly berating me for just existing? Do you want me to excuse how you have avoided any pleasant conversations with me? Do you want me to excuse how you will take any opportunity to make jokes about me? Do you want me to excuse the way you glare at me when all I do is help? Help your friends, your country, you?” Reiner was dangerously close to you at this point. Your stance faltered, earning a chuckle from him as you stammered out a sad excuse for a sentence.

“You know what, you are excused. Get the hell out of our tent.”

You glanced at Connie and Jean, who just stared straight at Reiner, waiting to see if he’d make another move. You quickly brought your eyes back to Reiner’s threatening glare, nodding sharply before backing out of the tent.

“Dude, that was… that was really intense.” Connie whispered to Jean, Jean mirroring the same movement. As soon as you were out of eyesight, Reiner faltered himself, stumbling back into a seated position.

“Fuck…” Reiner whispered, throwing his head into his hands. “I messed up.”

“Yeah, man, you did.” Connie stated. A few more moments of silence passed before the sound of hooves reverberated from outside, signalling the others of your departure.

Jean shuffled over towards Reiner in the tent, whacking him on the head.

“What the hell, man? You’re just gonna shoo them off without fixing anything?” Jean yelled, grabbing the lantern in the corner of the tent. “Go after them, right now.”

“What? Why me?” Reiner rebutted in defiance.

“Jean, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Connie tried to intervene, but Jean just shook his head.

“No, the only person who can fix this is you. Go find them and apologise.” Jean shoved the lantern into Reiner’s arms before giving him a push out of the tent.

Reiner stared forward into the vast countryside, unsure of where you were headed, as the sound of your horse was long gone. He looked around for uncommon hoofprints before he hesitantly hopped onto his own horse and followed the solo tracks into the forest.

---

Paradis hadn’t felt like home in a long time. When you first discovered there was more to the world than the small island you grew up on, you went through all five stages of grief in the matter of seconds. Sure, war was an ever pressing problem, but the tiny little optimist locked away in the back of your mind saw it as an opportunity to live life more than you had ever imagined it to be. However, the first time you stepped foot in the ocean, you felt your soul leave your body and observe your tiny little physical form from the skies. The world was massive, yet as obsessive and megalomaniacal as everything you’d ever fought. It was selfish, filled with desire, and you were part of it. As Eren craved freedom, you craved peace. To be on this massive planet and enjoy it, for all its natural beauty. And that was a very selfish thing to want. When you first stepped foot in Marley, as an active member of the selfish world, you vowed to yourself that you would value every single moment that you had on the planet when in a peaceful situation. So why was it that when you finally had the opportunity to stop, observe, and breathe, you were in so much pain?

After riding for nearly thirty minutes, you’d approached a familiar cliffside overlooking the river that flowed throughout Paradis. Tying your horse to the branch of a small tree, you swung the guitar Historia had returned to you over your chest, removing it from its case before swinging your legs over the cliffside and taking in the silent nature that you hadn’t been able to appreciate before. Your heart was racing faster than you raced away from Historia’s home, adrenaline pumping through your veins with the same pressure that was weighing on your chest.

You slid your overfilled journal out of your bag, leaving the latest page opened by your side. With the guitar in hand, you began to contemplate the words you’d written hidden away in the engine room of the ship you’d travelled there in. There were marks from where your pen would bleed from you applying too much pressure, staining over the words you tried so desperately to get out of your mind and onto paper. Those marks helped you decipher the notes you would play as you lamented to the moon, the flowing water, and the trees.

It didn’t take long for that serenity and contemplation to be interrupted. As soon as Reiner saw the clearing, he slowed his horse down, tying it much farther back than your own. He approached slowly, allowing you to have your space. Well, he tried to convince himself that was why he was taking his time, but he knew that it was his own shame holding him back.

Listening to you sing into the abyss, he wanted to say he’d never seen this side of you before. But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew his statement from earlier, that you were heartless, was far from honesty. Why he wasn’t willing to bear the truth to you, he didn’t quite know. He wasn’t sure of the truth of the situation himself. What he did know was that he was guilty, very guilty, for how he had treated you in the past.

While it wasn’t false that you had been giving him the cold shoulder for the past few years, he was brutally aware of how he had acted towards you while in the 104th. Reiner was constantly wary of your presence, almost frightened the first time you’d approached him. He’d rejected the idea of helping you train in fear that he would share too much information about himself. He quickly changed his mind about the situation when Eren became involved, but he didn’t want to seem suspicious by returning to you to take you up on your offer. At the time he didn’t think that you would take it poorly, but one warm night a few weeks later made him realise his mistake.

The humidity of the barracks made it nearly impossible for him to rest, so he’d opted to go out for a breather in the middle of the night. As soon as he stepped foot towards the woods where the cadets would train, he could hear the hiss of gas and the sharp sound of ODM gear impaling trees. He wandered deeper into the woods to find the culprit, flabbergasted at the sight of your form swinging from tree to tree, attempting to make sharp turns as often as possible. As Reiner watched from the shadows, your attempts became fleeting, failing to grasp onto a nearby branch and plummeting to the ground. You caught yourself, breathing heavily into the dirt, letting out a scream of frustration as you threw your mock blades at the tree you’d missed. Your head hit the ground with exhaustion, letting out quiet sobs into the forest floor.

Reiner approached slowly, careful not to alert you of his presence, stopping a few yards away once he finally got a better look at you. Your hair a frizzy mess, some stuck to your face by the sweat that dripped profusely off of you. Your white shirt was stained not only by your perspiration, but light red marks from the straps of the gear. You had rubbed yourself raw from the friction of endless training, effectively making you useless in the aspect of continuing. Instead of offering his own help, Reiner quickly ran back to the barracks, knocking on the girls’ room door, informing Historia and Ymir of your situation and asking them to go tend to your wounds in the forest. They hopped into action and Reiner returned to his bed, never giving you a single hint of his company that night.

The sight of your fragile body replayed in his mind as he watched you, nearly a decade later, exhibiting a similar frustration into nothingness. Taking a deep breath, Reiner stepped forward onto the rocky cliffside, clearing his throat to let you know he was there.

You stopped playing immediately, sliding your book back into your bag without a moment’s notice. Reiner sat down next to you as you tensed, swinging your guitar back over your back as he let his legs dangle next to yours.

“I didn’t know you played,” he mentioned casually, staring out over the ravine.

“Yep,” you popped the p, clasping your hands together in your lap.

“Sounded great,” He continued, hoping to ease the already climaxed tension. “How long have you been playing?”

“Since birth, really,” you exaggerated with a sigh. “It’s a family heirloom, so it’s always been with me. Well, until the rumbling.”

“Oh,” Reiner remarked. “Explains why I haven’t seen it.”

“Hmm.” You answered, sniffling a bit of your leftover emotions away.

“Did you write that?” He asked, eager to continue the conversation without mentioning the elephant in the room. “The song you were singing?”

“Yes, I did, Reiner,” you harshly responded, growing impatient. “Why did you follow me, man? Haven’t you done enough?” Your tone wasn’t as intense as the words you spoke, but rather exhausted.

Reiner adjusted himself uncomfortably at being called into action so abruptly. He shouldn’t have expected any less. From what he’d observed about you over the years, you were quick to the point and impatient when it came to resolution.

“I came to apologise.” He spoke softly, but not necessarily quiet. His gaze was directed across the valley, unfocused and sombre. “What I said back there was uncalled for and untruthful. I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed was the textbook definition of distressing. Reiner’s heart rate escalated as you stayed quiet, his expectations of your answer unknown. He thought for a moment that he had somehow screwed that up as well, and that no matter how he apologised, you would feel no remorse and continue to hate him throughout his entire life. The strings of his emotions twinged at the thought of continuing to work with this level of displeasure throughout the rest of your careers as peace ambassadors, advocating for something that neither of you could actually achieve. His eyes began to sting at the idea of permanent hatred between the two of you.

“Oh, okay.” You replied all too quietly after taking your sweet time. Reiner looked at you so quickly that he gave himself whiplash. You maintained your gaze straight ahead, confusion intertwined on your brow. “I accept your apology.”

“Oh, okay…” Reiner mirrored your words with shock, jaw slightly agape at the sudden acceptance of his admission. “So, uh, are we alright, then?”

“Um, I guess so?” You questioned the concept, bringing your legs to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I guess I should apologise, too.” You leaned your chin atop your knees, pulling your lips to the side awkwardly. “So I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Reiner asked all too fast.

“What do you mean ‘what for’?” You laughed out, unsure of why he suddenly seemed so naive. “I’ve been an asshole. For years. It’s been exhausting being mad at you for something you did as a child. And unfair. So for that, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise for that. What I did was horrible…”

“We’ve all done horrible things, Reiner,” you interjected, finally meeting his eyes. You hadn’t noticed how emotional he could be until you saw the tears threatening to spill over his lashes, taking you aback. “Don’t beat yourself up over something you didn’t have control over. And accept my damned apology,” you pushed his arm lightly, unsure of whether or not to comfort him.

“Alright then, I do.” Reiner confirmed, breaking away from the eye contact that made him feel just a bit too vulnerable. “We should head back to camp. Jean and Connie are worried about you.”

“Alright, then.” You got to your feet, placing the guitar back in its case before untying your horse, Reiner following closely. “Uh, do you know the way back?”

---

Back at the tents, Jean and Connie played cards as they waited to hear your horses arrive. It was getting far later than they expected, but once the sound of hooves approached, they released any leftover tension. They poked their heads out of the tent as you and Reiner tied your horses up alongside each other, watching you laugh at whatever Reiner had been discussing with you. They both breathed out in relief as you bid Reiner goodnight and headed into your own tent, ducking away from their view. Reiner paused by the horses for a moment before bending down to pick something up from the ground, dusting it off as he looked at it. He was going to return it to you, but the lantern in your tent turned off and Reiner decided to wait until morning. He turned towards his own tent to see Jean and Connie snooping with childish grins, rolling his eyes at their antics as he joined them.

“Whatcha got there, Reiner?” Connie asked as the large blonde situated himself inside, removing his jacket and placing it underneath him to sit.

“Some journal, or whatever. Must be (Y/N)’s, I’ll return it to them tomorrow.”

“Oooh, juicy!” Connie snatched the book and immediately began to flip through the pages, intent on making fun of you the next day.

“How’d it go?” Jean asked, dealing out a new hand of cards for the three of them.

“Surprisingly well,” Reiner admitted, smiling a bit at the lack of stress. “They accepted my apology quite quickly and even apologised themselves. Also, did you know they play the guitar?” He asked as he picked up the cards he’d been dealt, sorting them out numerically.

“Well, yeah, they used to play every night in the cadets. Don’t you remember?” Jean quizzically stated, looking at his own cards after sliding Connie his own hand.

“No, I guess I never got to see.” Reiner admitted, playing his first card down. “Connie, it’s your turn.”

“Holy shit,” Connie whispered, frantically flipping through the pages of your journal. “Jean, you gotta see this.” Jean leaned over Connie’s shoulder, glancing at the open page for a few seconds before his eyes widened and he took the book in his own hands.

“No fucking way,” Jean exasperated, reading each word rapidly.

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“What is it?” Reiner asked, uneasy about the invasion of your privacy.

“This makes so much sense…” Jean continued as he flipped to the next page, examining it from top to bottom. “Connie, how didn’t we know?”

“Seriously! They ever told us a single thing about this!”

“You guys shouldn’t be reading that. If they didn’t tell you, it was probably for a reason,” Reiner tried to convince them to put it down, but instead Jean and Connie scooted closer together.

“Yeah, a very good reason!” Connie exclaimed, giddiness taking over his features. A devilish grin worked its way over Jean’s face as well as they continued to read, forgetting about the card game in front of them.

“All jokes aside, you guys need to stop.” Reiner grabbed the book from their hands, closing it and holding it away.

“No, we were just getting to the good part!” Connie whined as Jean reached out to grab the book, just making Reiner hold it even further away.

“Hey guys, did I leave my canteen in-” You held open the flap of the tent, looking in on the scene in front of you. It was almost picturesque, the awkward position of each of them, staring blankly at your intrusion. “Is that my journal?” You went from curious to furious in a matter of seconds, pacing over to Reiner to grab your book back. “Tell me you didn’t look through this.”

Jean and Connie stared at each other with their lips pressed shut as they left Reiner to your rage.

“(Y/N), I can explain,” He began, leaning towards you to attempt to calm you down.

“Are you fucking serious?” You guffawed, whacking him upside the head with it. “What the hell was all that in the forest for if you were just going to pull a stunt like this!” Your face reddened as you confronted him, holding the book so tightly that your knuckles turned white. “You are unbelievable!”

You stormed out of the tent and quickly dove into your own, leaving Reiner with the guilty party. He turned his gaze to the silent boys, who just looked away and whistled. He glared at them before picking himself up with a sigh, grabbing your forgotten canteen from the floor and heading to your tent.

“Can I come in?” He asked, opening your tent before you had the chance to respond. You faced the corner and waved him off, head in your hands from frustration. He sat down behind you, placing your canteen at your side. “(Y/N), I promise you, I didn’t look at your book. I was taking it away from those two when you came in.” He spoke softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You tensed at the touch, but didn’t shrug it off. Instead you let out a deep sigh and rolled your head back, a pained expression across your face as your eyes were wired shut.

“Okay...” you sheepishly answered, unwilling to start another fight.

“I won’t press on the matter too much, but,” Reiner began trying to formulate the right words. “They were a bit shocked by what they read. I think you should talk to them about-”

“No, absolutely not,” you interrupted, grabbing the book from in front of you. “The only one who’s seen this is Historia, and even then, she hasn’t read all of it.”

“I see,” Reiner observed, looking down at the pages that threatened to spill from their binding. “Can I ask, are those songs?”

You stilled for a moment, deciding whether or not he really needed to know, but you knew he would just question it further down the road if you didn’t share. As Historia said, in order to really fix your relationship with Reiner, you needed to talk to him. With a sigh, you turned to face him, handing him the book with a limp gesture.

“Yeah. If you really want to, just read it. I needed to get some more water, anyway.” You stood yourself up as Reiner gently took the book from your hands, grasping your canteen. You stepped out of the tent once again, leaving Reiner with just your book and the light of the lantern.

He felt extremely apprehensive about opening it. There was more information about yourself in here than you’ve shared with anyone, even the ones closest to you. He didn’t quite understand why you would let him read it so easily, especially after making such a fuss about it, but he considered it an honour that you would grant it. Flipping to the most recent page, he started at the title, reading carefully all the way to the bottom of the page.

His stomach bubbled at the realisation that something wasn’t adding up. The words you used, elegant and scholarly, were a stark contrast from your everyday personality. The metaphors and analogies were complex and alluring, speaking high praises of a subject undefined. He flipped back to earlier entries, watching you describe intricate emotions with ease, although some misspelled words had been scratched out and replaced. You wrote a great deal about a certain figure in your life that frustrated you and how you felt you were playing an impossible game, reaching breaking point after breaking point. Even on paper, you couldn’t quite explain why you were feeling certain ways, but you knew you were at least feeling. And feeling quite a lot, actually. Reiner flipped back and forth, trying his hardest to find a hint about the subject of your frustration, but as he scanned each page, his understanding of that frustration became much clearer. You weren’t angry at the person you were writing about, not at all. You were absolutely, incandescently infatuated with them. And that infatuation was portrayed as irritation because the only way you could express it was on the well used parchment in this ancient little book. Reiner scratched at his stubble as he tried to wrap his head around what was actually going through your mind all those times you secluded yourself from everyone. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he didn’t get it. He didn’t know a single person that you had shared the dates that topped each page with that could make you feel such a way. In fact, he didn’t know that you had ever felt more than surface level feelings. This was a heavy load to take in, so it was understandable that Jean and Connie were so shocked. But it made sense to them, so why couldn’t Reiner understand as well?

“I brought your canteen as well, hope you don’t mind. You left it attached to your horse.” You walked back in awkwardly, placing the filled jugs of water on the ground before returning to your seat next to Reiner. He watched you move closely, the newfound information making the gears turn in his head and observe you from a different perspective. You didn’t dare meet his eye, concerned that his research would reveal your true intentions to him, and instead bit at your bottom lip as you stared at anywhere but him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Reiner snapped himself out of his temporary trance, realising he hadn’t responded to you. “This is pretty, uh,”

“Intense, huh?” You answered for him, scratching at the side of your face.

“Not quite the word I was going for, but it works.” He admitted, flipping back to the latest entry. “Was this the one you were singing earlier?”

“Uh, yeah,” you turned your attention to the book as Reiner displayed it to you, running over the text. “Haven’t put it to music yet, so I tried to give it a shot.”

“Cool, cool,” Reiner commented, reading over it once again. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he reread the last few lines, a few dots connecting in his mind. “This, here.” He pointed at the scribbled words, gesturing for you to look closer at it.

‘I think this stalemate is enough’

“Yeah, what about it?” You asked, rereading it as he ran his finger over the indentation of the pen.

“This stalemate you’re talking about, is this referring to the subject of, uh, it?” Reiner quizzed, attempting so hard to find his own understanding.

“Um, yes.” You admitted, unsure of where he was taking this. Did he really read through so much of it, just to not understand the subject? “Why?”

“Well, I guess I’m a little confused. I can’t tell if you hate the person you’re writing about or if you…” Reiner trailed off his jaw hanging loose as the lightbulb in his head suddenly turned on.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s the latter…” you admitted, bringing your hand to twiddle with your lower lip, pulling at it with anxiety. Reiner remained silent, shaping an ‘O’ with his mouth. At the sight of his reaction, you grabbed the book, attempting to pull it away from him. “Okay, I think you’ve read enough.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Reiner refused to let go as you grabbed it, forcing him to reach over you as you tried to take it away. You swatted at his arm lightly with your free hand, but he grabbed it before you could make contact with him. He held your wrist firmly as you kept your gaze away. “Please, I’m in the dark here.” His voice was gentle yet guttural, and you could tell he yearned for any sort of explanation.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Reiner.” Your tired voice whispered as you still evaded eye contact. He moved his hold from your wrist to your hand, bringing the book back between you before placing your hand atop it.

“Look, Connie and Jean seemed to come to some sort of revelation after just reading a few pages. I assume Historia knows about all of this, anyway. If things are alright between us, why can’t you tell me?” You closed your eyes at the truth of his statement, that same pained expression from earlier finding its way across your forehead. “I just want to understand.”

The vibration of his vocal chords sent shivers down your spine, causing your hands to shake the book slightly out of anxiety. Reiner stilled them, the weight of his own, much larger hands calming you down. You took a deep breath before opening your eyes and actually making eye contact with Reiner, but that only made you lose the air in your lungs.

His eyes were heavy lidded, hazel staring directly into your soul, the hairs on your neck standing tall as he penetrated you with just his gaze.

“You already know, don’t you?” You asked defeatedly, a shakiness present in your voice.

“I might,” Reiner responded quickly, tilting his head just slightly, the sharpness of his jaw reflecting the lantern light behind him. “But if I learned anything from reading this, it’s that the last thing I should do is jump to conclusions when it comes to you.”

“Don’t make me say it, please…” your trembling words just barely making it to his ears. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Well,” Reiner squeezed your hand a little tighter, his own nervousness present. “Can you show me?”

Your brows raised and eyes widened at his boldness, unable to comprehend how he went from zero to one hundred in just a matter of seconds. You couldn’t prevent your eyes from breaking contact for just a second, darting down to look at his roughened lips before meeting his gaze once again. But you didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, his eyes were locked just a little lower, his brow confused and curious. He was waiting for an answer to leave your lips, but you were speechless. Breathless, even. Your heart stopped, any memories of your past on hold as you were very suddenly forced to exist in the present moment.

“(Y/N),” Reiner whispered, “This stalemate-”

“-Is enough.” You finished his sentence, quickly closing the space between the two of you. Reiner’s eyes fluttered shut as the book dropped in your lap, your hands making their way to his neck. He grasped your waist tightly, other hand meeting your cheek to rub gentle circles as your lips began a standoff, balanced in passion and fervor. You didn’t break away, no, you couldn’t break away, as your lips were finally able to release the emotions you’d built up over so many years. Reiner accepted your answer as willingly as you gave it, selfishly giving in to your desire and affection. All the cards had been played, all the pawns sacrificed, and you were left gridlocked and liplocked, ending the foolish game you began all that time ago. All you needed was to call it off, give in to defeat, and accept that the two of you were at a draw.

This stalemate was more than just enough.

[roscgcld]

GOJO SATORU || pretty eyes

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

pronouns: she/her

notes: high-school gojo x underclassman reader

part two is here!

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got pretty eyes?”

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