⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ hey there delilah reader ft jock! reiner
the hallway was loud in the way you expected for the first day of school. that specific, electric kind of loud where everyone was happy to see each other and wasn’t yet tired of pretending. you pressed closer to the wall of lockers, letting the current of people move around you rather than through you. your bag straps were twisted on your fingers.
you were looking for room 707
and you were definetly not looking at the group of athletes taking up the entire width of the hall near the staircase.
they were hard to miss, honestly. you didn’t mean to look, there were four of them, maybe five? all broad shoulders, and easy laughter, the kind of guys that seemed too confident despise smelling like 5 pounds of cologne. the kind that made the hallway feel smaller by just being in it.
you adjusted your bag and looked back down at your schedule.
707. second floor, east wing. you just had to get past the staircase.
“okay” you said silently under your breath
you kept your head down and moved toward the stairs, timing it the way you always did, waiting for a break in the crowd, finding the gap, slipping through-
and then someone step back.
not intentionally, even though you already thought you were getting targeted on the first day. they didn’t even noticed you. they appeared to just shift their weight and stepped back, right into your path, and your shoulder caught the edge of his arm and your schedule went fluttering out of your hand, drifting down to land face-up on the floor between a dozen pairs of shoes.
you froze for half a second. then quickly crouched to get it.
at the exact moment someone else did.
you nearly knocked foreheads with him. you both pulled back just barely in time. and then you were looking up, and he was looking up, and there was maybe six inches of space between your faces.
he was one of them, of course he was. close up he was. you registered the details of his face. the very light brown hairs appeared at the top of his lip. the arch of his eyebrows, and his pale skin… you immediately tried to stop registering. but there you go again, getting distracted by the blonde of his hair, gold dark eyes, were they hazel? yes, definitely—a very pretty hazel. and the kind of jaw that belonged on a sports poster. he was holding your schedule.
“sorry”, you said immediately, the word coming out a little breathless. “that was — i wasn’t watching where—“
“No, that was me.” his voice was easy. like he wasn’t handing crouched in the middle of the a crowded hallway, handing a stranger their dropped paper. he glanced down at the schedule briefly, before handing it back to you. “Braun. i stepped back without looking.”
you took it from him, fingers careful not to touch his. “it’s okay. really.”
while you both just stood there you noticed how tall he was. yup, really tall, you confirmed. that made you want to take a tiny step backwards.
“you’re looking for 707?” he asked
you blinked “ i — yes.”
“east wing, past the library. i’m heading that direction.” he said it with ease, already shifting his weight like he was about to move. he half glanced back at the group he’d been standing with, “Bertholdt, i’ll catch up.”
a very tall, dark haired boy somewhere behind him raised a hand without looking up from his phone “yeah, yeah”
and just like that the boy —braun— fell into step beside you.
“i’m reiner” he added, after a half beat.
“i know,” you said, and then wanted hide behind your schedule because why did you say that. “i mean, — you said braun. reiner braun.” yup, you were making it worse. you stared forward. “i’m —“ and you told him your name, quietly, the way you said most things.
he repeated it back to you.
and something about that made your chest feel odd.
you walked. the hallway thinned as you rounded the corner toward the library, and it got quieter, and you became abruptly aware that you’d somehow ended up walking with reiner braun. THE reiner braun, varsity football, junior class, name always on the announcements, and you had absolutely nothing to say to him.
“first period free?” he asked
“study hall,” you said. “you?”
“same.” he glanced over at you, and you felt it even though you were looking at the floor. “707 is study hall. that’s where i’m headed too”
oh…
“oh,” you said aloud, very intelligently.
the faintest thing crossed his face when you said it. like you’d said something funny and he wasn’t going to make you feel embarrassed about it.
you reached the door to 707. he got there half a step ahead of you and pulled it open, holding it, and you ducked through with a murmured “thank you” that probably didn’t reach his ears.
the room barely had any people. you took a seat near the window, second from the back, next to the radiator. you sat your bag down and got out your planner and tried to look like someone who was very focused on their planner.
you felt reiner take the seat directly beside you.
you kept your head down.
after a moment, you heard the soft knock of something being set on your desk. you looked up.
it was a pencil. one of those cheap yellow ones the office handed out in bulk. it was pointed towards you.
“you were clicking the cap on your pen,” he said, without looking up from his own bag. “seemed like maybe it was out of ink.”
you looked down at your hand, you were clicking the cap. and yes, now that you pressed the tip of the margin if your planner.. nothing.
you stared at the dead pen, then at the pencil.
then, picked it up.
“thank you” you said. and this time it did reach him, because he heard it, and nodded once. then went back to whatever he was doing.
you looked out at the window at the pale September morning and thought of what had happened.
you’d met someone, or someone had met you. walked you somewhere. sat beside you. noticed the small thing and offered the small solution without any fuss.
it was nothing. probably.
people were kind sometimes. it didn’t mean anything.
you turned to a fresh page in your planner and started writing out the week. outside, the first bell of the year rang along and clear.
you didn’t noticed reiner glance over at you once, while you were writing. 
very quietly, maybe he was trying to figure something out. maybe someone.
then, each day of the week starts getting interesting.
𑣲⋆ monday: he fell into step beside you between second and third period. you’d been moving against the current of the hallway, clutching your textbook to your chest, when you heard your name. said the same way he always said it, a very unique way. and there he was, slightly out of breath, you could tell he moved quickly to catch up.
“you walk fast for someone small” he said
you were not trying to be another stunna girl so you just rolled your eyes.
he looked down at you, you looked up at him. the height difference was a little ridiculous.
you looked away first “i just don’t like being late”
“me neither.” he matched your pace exactly. “where are you headed?”
you told him. he nodded as if it was reasonable information. and then he walked you there —all the way to the door— before peeling off with a easy “s’ya” that he said to the air in front of him, not really to you, but it did sounded so sincere.
you stood at the classroom door for a second after he left.
then you went inside and sat down and spent first four minutes of class not entirely absorbing what the teacher was saying.
𑣲⋆ Wednesday: he saved you a seat.
you hadn’t asked him too. you hadn’t even — there was no arrangement. you walked into study hall and there he was, already in his chair, and the seat next to him had his hoodie draped over the back deliberately, and when he saw you come in he reached over and pulled the hoodie off the chair without a word.
you sat down.
“there’s a quiz in ms.yeager’s class today,” he said, by way of greeting.
“i know,” you said “i studied”
“what chapters?”
“twelve through fifteen”
he exhaled through his nose. opened his textbook. “i only did thirteen and fourteen”
you hesitated. then you slid your notes across the desk toward him with no comment.
he looked at the notes. then at you. something shifted in his expression. was he flustered? “you don’t have to —“
“you have twenty minutes” you said, looking back at your planner. “you should use them.”
“…yeah” he said “okay.”
you pretended to organize your highlighters while he read through your notes. but once, just once, you glanced sideways at him. at the way he was concentrating. at the way he mouthed words to himself when he was trying to remember something, barely moving his lips.
𑣲⋆ friday: he was leaning against the locker next to yours when you arrived in the morning.
not exactly your locker, but the one beside yours. which you told yourself, it was a coincidence. lots of people had lockers on the hallways.
he was talking to bertholdt, who was a foot taller than everyone and seemed deeply bothered by this fact, and annie, a quiet blonde girl who you’d had art class with sophomore year, who could silence a room by simply raising an eyebrow. you’d always found her impressive in a slightly terrifying way.
you approached your locker and started working the combination.
“hey” reiner straighten up. bluetooth and annie both looked over with the particular expression of people watching something they’ve always formed opinions about.
“hi” you said
“good morning” he added.
“…good morning” you agreed.
annie looked at bertholdt. bertholdt looked at the ceiling.
you got your locker open and traded your books out, acutely aware that reiner had turned to lean his back against the locker now, facing the hallway, arms crossed. trying to look casual about the fact that he was talking to you.
“you doing anything this weekend?” he asked the general hallway.
“studying” you said, to your locker.
“right.” a beat “saturday or sunday?”
“both, probably”
“both” he repeated. “ do you ever — not study?”
you considered this genuinky “sometimes i read”
“for fun?”
“is that surprising?”
“no” he said immediately. “no, that’s — that makes sense, actually”
you glanced at him, then, just briefly. he was looking straight ahead of the hallway, jaw slightly set, and there was a faint color along the back of his neck that you clocked without knowing what to do with.
you closed your locker.
“i’ll see you in study hall” you said.
“yeah.” he pushed off the locker. “yeah, see you”
you started down the hall. behind you, distinctly, you heard bertholdt say very quietly. — “you’re so bad at this” — and reiner say, just as quietly but with significantly more tension, “bertholdt i swear to god —“
you bit the inside of you cheek not letting yourself smile unitl you’d rounded the corner.
—————————————
it was Thursday in October when he asked.
the tress had gone amber and gold and the air outside the windows had the particular bite to it that made the warmth of the school hallways feel like something to be grateful for. you were at your locker, he was at the locker beside yours, — as had become the unexplained morning ritual. — and you were looking for your chemistry worksheet when he said, trying to sound casual:
“we have a game tomorrow night”
“mm,” you said, into your locker.
“football. varsity” he swallowed “home game”
“okay” you said. you found the worksheet. you were about to close your locker when something made you stop, turn slightly. “are you — were you telling me, or…”
he was looking at you. his arms were crossed. there was something in his face you hadn’t quite seen before. you could tell he was holding something in carefully.
“i wanted you to come” he said straight out.
the hallway kept moving around you. somewhere a locker slammed.
“to your game” you said
“yeah”
“to watch —“ you, you didn’t say it. “football”
“you don’t have to,” he said, his voice shifted very slightly, preparing for the landing. “ i just — i thought — if you weren’t busy —“
“i’ll come” you said
he stopped.
“ i mean —“ you looked back at your locker, straightening the books that didn’t need straightening. “i don’t have plans. and ive actually never watched a game before. i think it would be interesting. the game. to watch”
you were rambling. you closed your locker before you could continue.
when you looked back at him. reiner was doing something you’d never seen him do before.
he was smiling. kindly, the real kind. it lasted only a few seconds before he got it mostly back under control, got his expression into something more composed, he cleared his throat.
“cool,” he said “ that’s — yeah. good”
“what time?” you asked
“seven. field’s around the back.” he picked his bag “i’ll … there’ll be a spot saved on the bleachers. with annie and bert.”
“okay” you said
“okay” he said.
you both stood there for one unnecessary extra second
then you both went to class.
you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. you told yourself this while you changed your top twice on friday evening and then felt annoyed at yourself for changing it and then changing it a third time anyway. it was cold out, so you wore the soft oversized cream colored one with long sleeves, and a scarf, and you told yourself this was simply what a person wore to an outdoor event in october and it had nothing to do with anything else, nor anyone.
the field was lit up bright white when you arrived, blazing against the darkening sky. the bleachers were already filling. music thumped from the speaker system and a group of freshmen were doing something with a banner and getting it mostly wrong and the whole scene had an energy to it you weren’t expecting. warm and alive, and just loud enough to make your pulse pick up a little.
annie found you before you found her. she appeared at your elbow without warning, as she always did.
“you came” she said. she didn’t make it a big deal, something you appreciated about her.
“he invited me” you said. just enough information.
annie looked at you for a moment. “yes,” she said “he did”
something in her tone made you want to ask a follow up question. you decided not to.
bertholdt was easy to find, obviously not because he was was the tallest thing aside from the stadium light…
the three of you settled into the bleachers with ease. the cold air and the bright lights and the noise wrapped around you as something almost comfortable.
“which one is —“ you started
“number twelve” bertholdt said, without looking up from his phone.
you looked at the field. found number twelve in the warmups.
reiner moved differently out there. you’d known he was an athlete, you had eyes, you’d seen the way he carried himself, but this was different. out in the field he was focused, head up, something concentrated and purposeful in every movement. he was doing a passing drill with two other players and even from the bleachers you could see the intensity of his jaw and eyes. the deliberateness of it.
then, for no reason you could account for, he looked up at the bleachers.
found you in about three seconds.
you hadn’t expected that. so you just lifted your hand, a small wave, nothing dramatic.
his whole face changed.
that smile again. then he looked back at his teammates and you looked back at your hands in your lap, and annie, in your peripheral vision, looked very focused on the field, as if trying to not react to something else.
the game started.
you didn’t fully know the rules. you’d said as much to bertholdt, who had apparently accepted the role of the quiet commentator with the resigned cheerfulness of someone who who’d explained sports to people before. he murmured things. to you in a low voice. “they need to keep possession” and “what’s a first down, see the marker moving” and you nodded and tried to follow.
but mostly you watched number twelve.
reiner played the way he did everything, you were starting to think, with his whole self. nothing held back. he ran routes with his head up, made calls you could hear the edge of even from the stands, hit tackles with commitment. but what caught you, what you kept coming back to, was the way he picked up his teammates when they were slow, the hand on the shoulder, the few words, the way he was for them even in the middle of everything.
girllll are youuuu in loveeeee?
loyal, you thought, it was the right word.
your team won. the field erupted. you were clapping before you’d consciously decided to, swept up in the wave of sound around you.
you found reiner in the mass of players near the sideline. he had his helmet off, hair damp and messed, cheeks flushed red from the cold and the exertion, and he was scanning the bleachers, you saw him do it. until he found the three of you.
he jogged over. out of breath, grinning.
“you came,” he said. to you. just you.
“i said i would” you pointed out.
he laughed, slightly breathless slightly disbelieving, and pushed a hand through his damp hair, and you thought oh.
what was that ‘oh’ about?
———————————
bertholdt had somewhere to be and annie had somewhere she claimed to be going but that probably, you’d privately theorized, was simply home doomscrolling, which was something you respected. so it was the two of you, standing in the cooling dark outside the school while the rest of the crowd filtered away, and he’d turned to you with that slightly-trying-too-hard energy he sometimes got.
“there’s a diner. about ten minutes from here. they do
milkshakes.”
“okay” you said.
“you want to — i mean. if you’re not tired.” he adjusted the strap of his bag. “or hungry. if you’re hungry. they do food too. not just milkshakes”
“milkshakes sound good” you said
he nodded. quickly. “yeah. okay. good.”
the diner looked like it has been there forever. red vinyl booths, a counter with spinning stools, a jukebox in the corner that someone’s grandfather had probably played as a kid. it smelled like coffee and fried things and warm sugar. the light was low and amber and kind, the way diner light always was at night, and the windows were fogged slightly at the edges from the cold outside pressing against the warm in.
you and reiner slid into a corner booth. the waitress set down the paper menus and asked what she could get you to drink.
“milkshakes” reiner said, not even opening the menu.
“what flavor?”
“chocolate” he said “unless…”
“chocolate is good” you added.
he smiled. flagged the waitress back.
the booth was small the way diner booths were small and reiner was not a small person, which meant there was less space between you, than there would have been with someone else, and you were very aware of the proximity of him, and the fact that you could hear him breathe.
you looked at the menu you weren’t reading.
“you’ve been coming here since freshman year?” you asked
“since i started playing” he leaned back against the booth, arms loose, looking at you. he’d relaxed out of the post game energy now into something easier, something that felt like the most him that you’d seen.
you gave an understanding nod with a low hum.
the milkshakes arrived. they were tall and cold and came with extra whipped cream that neither of you asked for, and the jukebox in the corner shifted, and something gentle started playing.
“hey there delilah, what’s it like in New York City…”
reiner looked over the jukebox. you watched his profile, the clean line of his jaw, the way the light caught the edge of his cheekbone.
“i’m a thousand miles away, but girl tonight you look so pretty, yes you do…”
“i like this song” you said, mostly to say something.
“me too” he looked back at you, and then didn’t look away.
the diner murmured around you. a couple at the counter, a family in the big booth by the window, the quiet clink of silverware and the low music and the warm smell of coffee. and reiner watching you with an expression that you could only classify as one reserved for you. so soft for such a guy.
“can i tell you something?” he said
your fingers found the base of your milkshake glass. “okay”
“i’m not —“ he stopped. exhaled. tried again. “i’m not usually like this”
“like what?”
“this” he gestured, vaguely, at himself, at the booth, at the general situation. “i don’t follow people to their lockers, i don’t walk anyone to their classes” his voice was steady but there was something behind it working really hard. “i don’t ask people to games and then spend the entire second quarter checking the stands.”
your heart had gone very still. he looked so vulnerable. so desperate to let you know how serious he was about what he was saying.
“you were playing” you said softly “you shouldt have been checking the stands”
“i know” he said simply without embarrassment “i couldn’t help it.”
the jukebox played on.
“time square can’t shine as bright as you, i swear it’s true..”
“i’ve been trying to figure out how to say this.” reiner said, “without making it weird or — making you feel like you have to —“ he pushed the milkshake glass have an inch to the left for no reason, then back. “i like you” an exhale left him, the past desperation easing. “ i have since you picked up your schedule off the floor and apologized to me for something that was my fault.” he swallowed, “you apologized to me”
you brain played back those moments, how he crouched across from you, holding out your paper.
“and then study hall” he went on, quieter. “you said thank you for a pencil like i’d done something” he looked at you “nobody says thank you like you do”
“hey there delilah, don’t you worry about the distance…”
you didn’t say anything for a moment. the diner was warm and amber and the music was exactly as gentle as it needed to be, and reiner was watching you like he was ready to give you his soul.
“i noticed you too,” you said, and your voice came out smaller than usual, soft enough that he had to lean in slightly to catch it. “i always noticed, i didn’t think someone like you would —“
“someone like me” he repeated.
“you know what i mean”
“i really don’t” he said it gently, genuinely. “what does someone like me mean?”
you looked at him, the steady way he held your gaze, the way he’d been steady all along, in every small thing, without asking for anything back.
“nothing” you said. “i think i was just looking for a reason it couldn’t be real”
“but it’s real… it’s real”
the song was winding toward its end.
“Oh, it’s what you do to me…”
“okay,” you said
his brow shifted “okay?”
“i like you too, reiner” you smiled was warmer than the diner lights.
he went very still for exactly one second.
reiner looked down at the table with a smile he was clearly trying to keep at a reasonable size and failing completely.
“okay” he said… to the table?
he looked so jolly, just there smiling at himself and table.
you laughed with ease and brightness and a little startled. he looked up at the sound of it and stopped trying to hide his smile.
he reached across the table slowly giving you every chance to move away and set his hand down to yours.
you turned your hand over.
he closed the distance.
outside the fogged windows, october did what october does, cool and dark and quietly beautiful. it couldn’t be better.
you sat there with your milkshakes and your intertwined fingers and the whole long easy year stretching out ahead of you. ₊˚⊹♡
────୨ৎ────
a/n: this fanfic was vaguely inspired by taylor swifts song “so high school” muahaha. anyways, it took me 3 bomboclat days to fucking finish ts pls hug me
