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Entry tags:
[snk] meme drabbles + fic
For Caity; Jean/Eren, future fic where Jean is the prime minister of the new human settlement, and him and Eren are still dumb adults, etc etc BASICALLY. *spoilers
The town is small for now, but Armin says that it will grow once more people start venturing outside the walls .
“It’s a start,” Jean admits, looking at the settlement.
“But when it does grow, we can help,” Bertholdt says, quiet as the steam clears away, and the land around him is flat and even, perfect for buildings and fields. He wobbles when he sits on the ground, but Reiner is at his side in an instant with a broad, proud grin.
Jean nods, in awe at how quickly the work was done, but Eren is standing near him so he tries to gawk a little less.
“I can help, too,” Eren says, looking restless as they watch Bertholdt lean wearily against Reiner’s shoulder.
“What? And undo all the work Reiner and Bertholdt’s done?” Jean scoffs, walking away to leave the pair alone. The next sentence sort of falls from his mouth; “Besides, I’d rather have you here anyway.”
Eren matches his strides and glares at him. “Doing what? I can lift as much as Reiner can!”
It is only then that Jean realizes he’s gone and blurted out something he never meant to say aloud. He frowns, trying to think of an answer and comes up with nothing. Nothing that he wants to admit to just yet, anyway. “Just stay, alright?”
He still thinks Eren is bullheaded dunce with no sense of caution, but right now it’s gone quiet between them. He glances at Eren, and the other man looks downright wary, suspicious even.
“Fine. I will then.”
And it’s a start.
----
For V; Hanji walks in on Irvin and Rivaille having a quiet moment together.
There is no such thing as privacy in a camp full of soldiers. A tent is the closest thing a person (or two) could get, but Hanji pushes aside the flap anyway.
She doesn’t need a hypothesis, or theories, or controlled observations to decipher the way Irvin’s forehead is pitched forward against Rivaille’s chest, the slump of his shoulders, the tight fist resting on Rivaille’s bandaged knee. She is not even remotely curious, because of all things she accepts without question, without reasoning – it’s this.
Rivaille looks up, expressionless in a way Hanji knows is forced, though she has no idea what Rivalle’s face would have looked like, had he not been holding back. Tired, she thinks. Weary and angry like how they all are.
“I have new information on the female-type titan.”
Hanji doesn’t need to note how neither of them shift away from each other. Irvin straightens, as does Rivaille, but the distance between them remains the same. She doesn’t need to wonder about anything at all.
Irvin nods, and she takes the seat across from them.
“Let’s hear it then.”
----
Title: Reprieve
Rating: PG
Pairing: Irvin/Rivaille
Notes: For the kinkmeme. Prompt; teasing.
AO3: link
All the papers on Irvin’s desk had been reorganized, stacked into neat piles and rows in what he assumed to be from most urgent to… a little less urgent. He frowned, perturbed that his working space had been moved around. He wouldn’t have called himself a messy person, especially not as a commander, but his papers had been in relative order already, if only slightly skewed to the side and not quite parallel with the table’s edge.
Irvin grimaced, easing into his chair. He supposed that alone would have been enough to set Rivaille off. And while he knew that Rivaille was never above playing secretary for him, he could have listed at least a dozen more useful things the corporal could have done instead.
It was not an inconvenience, he decided, just – unexpected. Reprimanding Rivaille would have been too extreme and a waste of time for them both. Irvin parsed through his papers, signing off the missives that needed to be sent right away and absorbing himself in the reports he had gotten from his higher-ranking squads.
Time hadn’t passed for very long, but he couldn’t help but note how smaller his stack of papers seemed to become after a while. He tapped his pen against the table, almost irritable by the discovery, and finally sent the aide to call for Rivaille.
It took no more than three minutes for Rivaille to appear in his office, quietly shutting the door behind him. If Irvin didn’t know any better – and he did – he would have suspected that the younger man had been waiting for him.
“I suppose you’re the reason for this unexplained amount of free time I have now,” he said as Rivaille approached his desk.
“And you’ve messed up your papers again,” Rivaille replied, as good as any confession. He reached over the table to straighten a stack that had been knocked aside, possibly while writing, and his arm pressed against Irvin’s own, admitting to something else as well.
Irvin glanced at Rivaille, keeping his arm motionless, though he still had one other letter to mark and sign. Rivaille, just as resolute, kept adjusting the papers until they were lined to near perfection.
“Come around,” Irvin said, and Rivaille’s arm lifted away from his. He initialed the paper, couldn’t even be bothered to sign it full as the corporal came over to stand next to him. He smiled, wry. “You are never this bad.”
“I don’t think cleanliness a bad trait,” Rivaille said, eyeing him with a critical gaze.
“It isn’t.” Irvin was a military man to the core; he knew an inspection when he saw one. He slowly straightened in his seat, shoulders leveled and chin up to stare back, aware but not intimidated. “But you don’t normally fuss over my things,” he said while Rivaille fixed the collar of his coat, thumbs brushing against his neck. “I may not be up to your standards, but I am organized.”
He did not close his eyes when Rivaille passed a hand over his forehead, smoothing out the fringe of his hair, which admittedly had fallen out of place while he was reading his reports.
“Well, I guess you’d pass muster now,” Rivaille said, meeting his gaze. His expression was utterly impassive.
“A relief, I’m sure,” said Irvin, “though I’m also equally sure that teasing your commanding officer isn’t regulation either. You must miss coming up to give me reports.”
“Just as much as you miss hearing me give them to you,” Rivaille said, crossing his arms. The coolness and light touches from his fingers were gone. He rested his hip against the desk. “Maybe you could send me on a mission. I’ve been getting restless in this damned city.”
It was a serious request. Irvin felt it as well, the agitation that came with staying within the walls for too long, but Rivaille was also playing at another game that would take far less time than figuring out routes and squadrons and possible missions. Those would always come later.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Irvin said, tilting his head by just a fraction, and Rivaille fixed his collar again. He huffed out a short, silent laugh. “So you are teasing me.”
And he had rarely ever seen Rivaille smile, but Irvin felt it often, the small curve of it right against his mouth when he pushed up from his seat to kiss him.
“Good work, commander,” Rivaille replied, leaving Irvin more rumpled in the end, and barely paid attention to the few papers that had slid out of place under his hand. “I’d hate to be stuck behind a desk all day.”
“A necessary consequence,” Irvin said, wiping the corner of his mouth, and watched as the corporal walked out of the room. “But thank you for the respite. And the new mess.”
He didn’t see a smile, but he assumed he didn’t need to.
The town is small for now, but Armin says that it will grow once more people start venturing outside the walls .
“It’s a start,” Jean admits, looking at the settlement.
“But when it does grow, we can help,” Bertholdt says, quiet as the steam clears away, and the land around him is flat and even, perfect for buildings and fields. He wobbles when he sits on the ground, but Reiner is at his side in an instant with a broad, proud grin.
Jean nods, in awe at how quickly the work was done, but Eren is standing near him so he tries to gawk a little less.
“I can help, too,” Eren says, looking restless as they watch Bertholdt lean wearily against Reiner’s shoulder.
“What? And undo all the work Reiner and Bertholdt’s done?” Jean scoffs, walking away to leave the pair alone. The next sentence sort of falls from his mouth; “Besides, I’d rather have you here anyway.”
Eren matches his strides and glares at him. “Doing what? I can lift as much as Reiner can!”
It is only then that Jean realizes he’s gone and blurted out something he never meant to say aloud. He frowns, trying to think of an answer and comes up with nothing. Nothing that he wants to admit to just yet, anyway. “Just stay, alright?”
He still thinks Eren is bullheaded dunce with no sense of caution, but right now it’s gone quiet between them. He glances at Eren, and the other man looks downright wary, suspicious even.
“Fine. I will then.”
And it’s a start.
----
For V; Hanji walks in on Irvin and Rivaille having a quiet moment together.
There is no such thing as privacy in a camp full of soldiers. A tent is the closest thing a person (or two) could get, but Hanji pushes aside the flap anyway.
She doesn’t need a hypothesis, or theories, or controlled observations to decipher the way Irvin’s forehead is pitched forward against Rivaille’s chest, the slump of his shoulders, the tight fist resting on Rivaille’s bandaged knee. She is not even remotely curious, because of all things she accepts without question, without reasoning – it’s this.
Rivaille looks up, expressionless in a way Hanji knows is forced, though she has no idea what Rivalle’s face would have looked like, had he not been holding back. Tired, she thinks. Weary and angry like how they all are.
“I have new information on the female-type titan.”
Hanji doesn’t need to note how neither of them shift away from each other. Irvin straightens, as does Rivaille, but the distance between them remains the same. She doesn’t need to wonder about anything at all.
Irvin nods, and she takes the seat across from them.
“Let’s hear it then.”
----
Title: Reprieve
Rating: PG
Pairing: Irvin/Rivaille
Notes: For the kinkmeme. Prompt; teasing.
AO3: link
All the papers on Irvin’s desk had been reorganized, stacked into neat piles and rows in what he assumed to be from most urgent to… a little less urgent. He frowned, perturbed that his working space had been moved around. He wouldn’t have called himself a messy person, especially not as a commander, but his papers had been in relative order already, if only slightly skewed to the side and not quite parallel with the table’s edge.
Irvin grimaced, easing into his chair. He supposed that alone would have been enough to set Rivaille off. And while he knew that Rivaille was never above playing secretary for him, he could have listed at least a dozen more useful things the corporal could have done instead.
It was not an inconvenience, he decided, just – unexpected. Reprimanding Rivaille would have been too extreme and a waste of time for them both. Irvin parsed through his papers, signing off the missives that needed to be sent right away and absorbing himself in the reports he had gotten from his higher-ranking squads.
Time hadn’t passed for very long, but he couldn’t help but note how smaller his stack of papers seemed to become after a while. He tapped his pen against the table, almost irritable by the discovery, and finally sent the aide to call for Rivaille.
It took no more than three minutes for Rivaille to appear in his office, quietly shutting the door behind him. If Irvin didn’t know any better – and he did – he would have suspected that the younger man had been waiting for him.
“I suppose you’re the reason for this unexplained amount of free time I have now,” he said as Rivaille approached his desk.
“And you’ve messed up your papers again,” Rivaille replied, as good as any confession. He reached over the table to straighten a stack that had been knocked aside, possibly while writing, and his arm pressed against Irvin’s own, admitting to something else as well.
Irvin glanced at Rivaille, keeping his arm motionless, though he still had one other letter to mark and sign. Rivaille, just as resolute, kept adjusting the papers until they were lined to near perfection.
“Come around,” Irvin said, and Rivaille’s arm lifted away from his. He initialed the paper, couldn’t even be bothered to sign it full as the corporal came over to stand next to him. He smiled, wry. “You are never this bad.”
“I don’t think cleanliness a bad trait,” Rivaille said, eyeing him with a critical gaze.
“It isn’t.” Irvin was a military man to the core; he knew an inspection when he saw one. He slowly straightened in his seat, shoulders leveled and chin up to stare back, aware but not intimidated. “But you don’t normally fuss over my things,” he said while Rivaille fixed the collar of his coat, thumbs brushing against his neck. “I may not be up to your standards, but I am organized.”
He did not close his eyes when Rivaille passed a hand over his forehead, smoothing out the fringe of his hair, which admittedly had fallen out of place while he was reading his reports.
“Well, I guess you’d pass muster now,” Rivaille said, meeting his gaze. His expression was utterly impassive.
“A relief, I’m sure,” said Irvin, “though I’m also equally sure that teasing your commanding officer isn’t regulation either. You must miss coming up to give me reports.”
“Just as much as you miss hearing me give them to you,” Rivaille said, crossing his arms. The coolness and light touches from his fingers were gone. He rested his hip against the desk. “Maybe you could send me on a mission. I’ve been getting restless in this damned city.”
It was a serious request. Irvin felt it as well, the agitation that came with staying within the walls for too long, but Rivaille was also playing at another game that would take far less time than figuring out routes and squadrons and possible missions. Those would always come later.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Irvin said, tilting his head by just a fraction, and Rivaille fixed his collar again. He huffed out a short, silent laugh. “So you are teasing me.”
And he had rarely ever seen Rivaille smile, but Irvin felt it often, the small curve of it right against his mouth when he pushed up from his seat to kiss him.
“Good work, commander,” Rivaille replied, leaving Irvin more rumpled in the end, and barely paid attention to the few papers that had slid out of place under his hand. “I’d hate to be stuck behind a desk all day.”
“A necessary consequence,” Irvin said, wiping the corner of his mouth, and watched as the corporal walked out of the room. “But thank you for the respite. And the new mess.”
He didn’t see a smile, but he assumed he didn’t need to.