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#porco galliard fluff

420ruffy · 1 year

Text

them with a clingy s/o ,, mikasa jean connie sasha reiner annie pieck porco marcel levi hanji erwin

mikasa

she doesn’t mind at all

in fact, she finds it endearing

when you’re holding onto her she’ll always watch you with a soft content smile

jean

he loves it because it’s reassuring for him and makes him feel really loved

he would literally never deny you touching him. more like the opposite, he invites you to and just grins at you

he’s also very touchy around other people to let them know you’re his bc he’s kinda insecure. he wants to hold your hand and he often fiddles with your fingers. sometimes he’d snake his fingers into the waistband of your pants

connie

he personally doesn’t need that much physical contact but he lets you do whatever you want to him, he really doesn’t care. he just wants you to be happy

he’ll tease you about it though and laugh when you get pouty. he’ll apologize if you get too quiet or embarrassed or hurt though

but he likes it because the thought of you not getting enough of him is ego boosting and just makes him feel good

sasha

she loves physical touch so she lets you touch her whenever you want

you make her hair every morning. just her sitting on the bed all groggy and grumpy and you massaging her head a little and running your fingers through her hair to lighten up her mood until you finally tie it up into her usual ponytail

she’s always one of the last ppl still eating so when you’re done (which is a lot sooner) you cling to her and wrap your arms around her while she’s still eating.

you could be climbing up on her like she’s a tree and she wouldn’t care . so you do sometimes which always ends up with both of you on the ground

you like nuzzling into her chest and she knows it so it doesn’t matter if she’s talking to someone or there’s ppl around, she’ll let you do it if you want to. she’ll stroke your head or back while you’re doing it or just wrap her arms around you

annie

if it’s around other people or in public: she doesn’t mind you constantly having your arms wrapped around her waist or shoulders but don’t expect her to hug you back. she’d more like let it happen and just stand there while you’re doing your thing

she doesn’t wanna kiss or make out in public or when there’s other ppl near

sometimes when somebody else is flirting with her you forget about how much she hates pda and just grab her face and push your tongue into her mouth bc you’re so riled up. she let’s you do it though bc she knows you didn’t mean any harm. also bc she kinda finds it hot.. you’ll never hear her admit it though. it fact, she’ll act annoyed and roll her eyes when you’re done showing the person she’s yours

if you’re alone somewhere she’ll reciprocate your hug and hold onto you tightly while burying her head into your neck

she also initiates make out sessions more than you when you’re alone because she’s actually kinda needy herself

reiner

he’s super clingy himself so whenever you are it’s just reassurance to him

you’re basically hugging 24/7 and neither of you wants to let go. like at all.

you follow each other around like puppies

he feels so loved and content when you initiate hugs

you’re constantly touching and have your hands on each other wether it’s holding hands or letting him fiddle with your fingers or you hooking your fingers through the loops on his pants etc.

he loves it when he’s doing something and you’re, for once, not together but you somehow find him and hug him from the side. he’ll take one of his arms and put it around either your waist or your shoulder and bring his other hand up to cup your face and stroke your cheek

scenario: it’s just a normal day for you warriors with not much to do so you’re all just hanging out when you make your way over to reiner who was sitting on the couch with pieck and sit in his lap facing him with your arms around his neck and him slouching his left arm around your lower back while the other is caressing your back. “right, i’m out.” porco gets up. nothing more disturbing to him than the two of you. “have fun!” pieck sighs tiredly. zeke would just walk out without saying anything. you and reiner chuckle and hug each other tighter. reiner would bring his hands up to your face and press light kisses all over it which would eventually lead to you making out. and then just hugging again. and making out again. and hugging. you could spend hours doing nothing but kiss and hug. 2 hours would go by but none of you would want to get up. then the other warriors would march through the door talking and laughing about something thinking you and reiner would be long gone but to their surprise- “there is no way you’re still sitting here like that..” porco would look at you disgusted. “why, how long has it been?” you ask genuinely curious.

porco

he won’t let you touch him in public especially not around the other warriors or people in the military in higher positions because he thinks it makes him look weak and unprofessional

he’d always regret it immediately after though because he knows that it makes you feel neglected and annoying, but he can’t risk letting his ‘cool guy’ and ‘good warrior’ act fall.

at night when you’re alone though he won’t let go of you and tell you that he’s sorry for being such a stupid asshole sometimes

as soon as you’re alone in either yours or his room he’ll press you against the door and hug you tightly “i’m so sorry. i’m such an ass i’m sorry.” he’d mumble with tears welling up in his eyes. you had already forgotten what this was about because you know him and you know how he gets but when he pleads for you to hug him back you remember.

marcel

i hc him being possessive

so he loves it when you’re touching and hugging him, especially in public. to him it’s just showing other people that you’re his.

he especially likes it when you’re doing it in front of other guys

if you do it around the warriors he’ll just smirk and let you climb in his lap or whatever it is you wanna do

if it’s around instructors he’ll just look at them with a “sorry, they just can’t help it” look. or he’ll just kinda ignore you and act like nothings happening so the instructor will adapt to his state. he’d just stroke your arm or head while your hugging him but he won’t shift his focus away from the conversation he’s having with one of the ppl in power

he acts like he’s not touchy himself bc he knows how needy you are when in reality he’s thriving every time you initiate physical touch

he likes making out in front of other ppl and showing them that you’re his. he won’t do it for long bc he knows you get embarrassed and annoyed but he’ll shove his tongue into your mouth and make out with you for a few seconds just to annoy the ppl around him

pieck

loves it bc it’s just really comfortable and adds warmth

she especially loves it when you’re laying on top of her

you’ll often just pick her up and bury your face in her neck

you also love resting your head on her ass when she’s laying on her stomach

levi

would act annoyed when you do it in public or in front of others but he wouldn’t make you stop or send you away

he’d just stand there helpless letting you do whatever you want to him while he has his usual grumpy look on his face

in private though he is the one initiating physical touch the most because in reality he wants it even more than you. he needs it. he’s just become exceptionally well at suppressing his needs.

he’s the embodiment of a cat. grumpy in front of others but clingy when you’re alone

hange

i hc hanji using they/he pronouns so:

would not mind at all bc he’s clingy himself

blushed the first time you suddenly hugged them bc usually they’re the one doing it

made him so happy fr

he literally loves it so much, it’s so reassuring to them bc he feels like he’s annoying by being so touchy but whenever you’re clingy it just makes them happy and feels like a relief kinda

erwin ** idk i got carried away

he takes his position as commander very serious but when you’re feeling needy while he’s talking to someone, he’ll still let you hug him from the side or from behind but he wouldn’t pay much attention to you. just putting his arm around you while keeping the conversation he was having going or a gentle squeeze of your arm

in private he lets you do whatever you need to do

he’ll let you sit on his lap while he’s doing paperwork or hump his thigh if you need to. “good, baby, keep rubbing yourself on me” “you’re doing so good” “i know you’re close, come for me, sweetie” he’d coo softly while rubbing your back. it’s hard for him to let you finish because all he’d think about when you’re rubbing yourself on his thigh is his cock inside your warm pussy. he’ll have to hold back groans and the uncomfortable feeling of his pants getting tight around his crotch isn’t any less distracting. nine out of ten times he takes you on the sofa after you’re done and panting into his neck

he’s not too clingy himself. but he gets needy and whiny too. he just knows when the right time for those things is and he has no problem waiting until you’re alone.

…

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certifiedjaeger · 2 years

Note

“Just marry me already.” Reiner or Porco you choose?

ALSO CONGRATS HOLY GUACAMOLE (I FORGOT HOW TO SPELL GUAC FOR A SECOND LOL)

♡ certifiedjaeger’s 800 event ♡

Character: Porco Galliard x fem!reader

Prompt: “Just marry me already.”

Word Count: 1.5K+

A/N: Thank you!!! <3 I went with Porco on this one cause I love that man 🤠 (also FYI, nonna = grandmother; nonno = grandfather)

Event Masterlist

The welcoming sounds of laughter filled his nonna’s home with ease; warmth and love surrounding every area of the small, comforting house as the Galliard family gathered for a celebration. The children played outside as the aunties gossiped and drank prosecco. His ma helped with the food in the kitchen and his nonno played card games with his uncles. And in the center of it all, there you were. Soft and delicate– And beautiful as ever.

He found it quite interesting how you somehow managed to stand apart from it all, and yet also, fit right into the chaos. The scene playing out before him–of his family so warm and affectionate–finally felt complete as he took in your welcoming form standing amidst his favorite people.

He had been watching you all day with the same lovestruck expression that always seemed to accompany him whenever he gazed at you. He honestly couldn’t help it. His eyes simply just followed you everywhere you went, watching as you played with his younger cousins, running around the backyard with them and playing dress up; Watching as you somehow managed to impress his judgemental aunties yet again (something he’ll never quite understand since they were never impressed by anybody); Watching as you helped roll the gnocchi with his mom, listening intently to her every word as she revealed her secret to you; Watching as you held his cousin’s baby in your arms, cooing gently as you soothed them to sleep; And yes, watching as he heard the greatest compliment you could ever hope to receive suddenly fall from his nonno’s lips– a simple “good kid” directed toward you with an equally as simple nod of his head.

Yes, he’d been watching you all day. But he just couldn’t help it. The sight of you fitting in so perfectly with his family did funny things to his heart. He could see–clear as day–that you just simply… belonged. He knew it. Deep in his bones, he knew it as he watched you with his loved ones.

What really forced him to believe it, though, was none other than his nonna and her warm approval of his girl. He knew that his family loved you, but there was just something particularly special about the matriarch of the Galliard family–his sweet nonna–already seeing you as one of them. It honestly only made his desire to actually make you a part of the family even worse. He wished more than anything for you to have a permanent place in his family; for you to wear a pretty little ring on your finger and to be addressed as Mrs. Galliard by everyone. That was the only thing he truly wanted, if he were being completely honest with himself. And it appears that his nonna–in her unsubtle ways– felt exactly the same.

“You better propose to that fine young lady,” the older woman warns as she slowly makes her way toward her grandson; stopping abruptly in front of him and pinching his cheek in the rough way that grandmothers always do. “Even though you don’t deserve her,” she then adds in her familiar brash tone, much to his annoyance.

“Nonna, come on. I’m not all that bad, am I?” Porco–fifty years her junior and towering over her small frame–cheekily replies as he helps her outside to the backyard where the festivities were continuing.

“No, you’re a good boy,” she laughs heartily, patting him affectionately on the strong arm that was assisting her. “But she’s a good one, too, and you better not keep her waiting,” the threatening tone comes back instantly as she turns to address him. “Or else someone else is going to come along and snatch her up. And we don’t want that to happen,” she emphasizes her dramatic words with a small pat on his cheek as his younger cousin–the birthday boy–begins to open his presents. “After all, we need some more Galliard babies running around here–”

“Okay, nonna!” He cuts her off as a slightly flustered expression overtakes his face. “Let’s just worry about this Galliard today,” he quickly tries to change the subject as he gestures to the young excited boy now opening a rather large gift.

“You are a good boy,” she softly chuckles at the dark pink color rising on his tan cheeks, patting his arm once again. “But you better get over to your future wife now, stop wasting your time and affection on me,” she warns lightheartedly.

“I have enough to share between my two favorite girls,” he grumbles, slightly rolling his eyes but feeling a warmth spread throughout his chest at the mention of you being his ‘future wife’. Porco leans down a bit and hastily places a kiss to her cheek after gently helping her into a chair; he says his goodbyes and soon leaves her to relax and enjoy the rest of the party, only to then seek you out.

Making his way over to you, he can’t help but think about his nonna’s words. Of course he had thought about marrying you, of course he had. He wasn’t stupid; he knew you were the only one for him, that it was you he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was just a frightening thing–as much as he didn’t want to admit it–to ask for your hand in marriage. Because… What if you said no? He had always considered himself to be a brave man, but there was just something about you that made him weak; something that made him absolutely terrified to ask that life-changing question. Because what if you did say no? And what if you didn’t feel the same way that he did? He knows that that would absolutely ruin him, that he definitely wouldn’t be able to cope with the feeling of losing his girl. Because, truth be told, you were everything to him. You were family. You were his future, his love, his life– All of it. And the thought of all of that suddenly disappearing because you turned down his proposal, well… he’s sure he’d never be able to move on from that.

So for now, he’ll stick to his sarcastic remarks as he–jokingly–asks you to marry him. As he makes small remarks about asking for your hand in marriage, uttering small insincere proposals whenever you do something sweet or cute. It was actually something he did quite a lot, to be honest; an interesting habit that he just couldn’t help. You were an angel in his eyes, a true godsend who made every aspect of his life better. So how could he not ask you to marry him every single chance he got? Even if his words did always come out as a joke and even if they were always said in a lighthearted manner… You just made it all too difficult to keep his thoughts at bay and before he knew it, he’d be muttering something along the lines of ‘god, just let me be your husband already’. It was almost as if his mouth was constantly betraying him whenever he was around you; exposing his true intent behind thinly-veiled jokes. But he just couldn’t help himself… No, he was simply too weak for you and those words always seemed to just slip out every time you were near.

And this time would prove to be no different, it appears, as he makes his way over to you– gently placing his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly, feeling your back flush against his broad chest as he takes in your familiar scent.

“What, are you trying to be an angel today or something? Bein’ so nice to my family? Why aren’t you ever that nice to me, huh?” His deep voice rings out as he softly laughs, placing a small kiss to your neck as you feel his lips turn up into a gentle smile, warming the skin there ever so slightly.

“Oh shush, I’m nice to you all the time,” you chuckle softly. “Even if you sometimes don’t deserve it.”

“You’re the second person to say that to me today,” he furrows his brows as a small insincere pout adorns his face.

“Plus, I just like being with your family,” you shrug, ignoring the feigned sound of hurt in his voice. “Just feels right, you know?”

“Ugh,” he groans. “Shut up and just marry me already,” he says in a drawn out whiny tone as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, trying to hide just how flustered your sweet words have made him but ultimately failing in the end. You’re just too much, he thinks; too angelic, too loving. He can’t help it when those familiar words escape him yet again.

Your sweet, delicate laughter fills his ears as he raises his head; the feeling of you turning around in his arms causing him to pull you in even closer as he notices an amused smile playing out on your face. Your eyes instantly meet his and he realizes that you have an almost playful twinkle in them as you stare at him, almost as if to say ‘I know you actually mean that’. He swallows dryly, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable under your all-knowing stare.

Porco feels that this could be the moment. The moment where you finally turn him down and run away, screaming in a fit of terror at the prospect of actually having to be married to him. And yet, that moment doesn’t come. No, you don’t run away and you certainly don’t scream. Instead, your amused smile only seems to widen as you place a gentle kiss to his cheek, leaning in just a bit more as you whisper against his ear…

“Shut up and just propose already.”

#porco galliard #porco galliard imagines #porco galliard imagine #porco galliard oneshot #porco galliard fic #porco galliard fluff #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot imagines #attack on titan imagines #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard x y/n #porco galliard x you #my writing #banannie's 800 event <3

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vainilla-milk · 1 year

Text

Flufftober Day 13 - Photo album

pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem! Reader

tags: porco and reader have a child, modern au

wordcount: 585

Porco always thought pink looked good on you, whether you wore it in a skirt, sneakers or on your gel nails. He also always thought your smile was adorable, every time you smiled you made him smile. Porco thought that he really liked to watch you constantly.

It was for that reason that when you started dating, photos became a fixture in your lives.

Now in the morning before breakfast, he had sat down on the living room couch to look at one of the several photo albums he has on the shelf.

In the older albums housed not only photographs, there were plenty of memes (your favorites and his), screenshots of memorable chats, downloaded Instagram stories. Every visual element Porco deemed worthy of prevailing over time.

He had some crafts and letters of yours saved in the album too, you used to make them a lot and gift them to him when you were in college. You loved doing it, but when you graduated and started working you had to stop doing it as much as you used to.

Porco always thought it was a wise decision to keep those crafts, especially your cheesy letters, he loved to reread them from time to time.

Each album was a real trip back in time, a bible attesting to your relationship.

When he finishes that fat book of photos from your college days, he gets up from the couch to put it back and take out the last album he had that was still being filled.

The one of the family he formed with you.

To be honest, Porco would never openly admit to getting emotional looking at those pictures.

He could spend all day looking at your wedding photos, admiring your happiness and how beautiful you looked in that wedding dress. He would also gawk at the pictures of when you became a mom and he became a dad, never ceasing to be amazed at how tiny his baby was when he was born.

His concentration is interrupted when he hears tiny footsteps coming toward him, right on cue.

"Daddy?" he calls. "I'm hungry"

In the doorway leading to the living room, stands your little five-year-old son sleepily with his hands resting on his belly. Porco smiles at the sight of him and closes the album to go to the child.

"Breakfast is almost ready, will you help me take him to mommy?" he asks him gently as he carries him, receiving an enthusiastic response from your son.

A few minutes later you see Porco and your baby entering the room with a large tray full of food, two cups of coffee and a smaller cup with chocolate milk. You smile at them, still sleepy refusing to leave your body.

"Good morning" your husband greets you with a kiss on your lips.

Your son settles in next to you, eager for breakfast. Once you give him the cup you start with your breakfast, always watching that your little one doesn't drip with milk.

Porco watches you both, mentally capturing every moment. It's not long before he has his cell phone in hand.

"Honey, smile" he says to you.

When you realize it you alert your son and both raise their cups waiting for the photo to be captured. Porco smiles indicating to you that he has already taken the picture, so everyone continues eating breakfast.

At the end of the day, Porco will have several new photos to print and add to his latest album.

#porco x reader #porco x you #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard x you #porco galliard imagine #porco galliard fluff #porco fluff #porco galliard fanfiction #flufftober #flufftober 2022 #aot fics #aot x reader #aot fluff #aot imagines #aot warriors #porco galliard headcanons

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conexion9 · 2 years

Photo

Knight! Porco X Royal Reader (fem)

Genre: Contemporary, sfw

Porco is assigned by his higher ups as your personal guard.

- boy with the winfields and the wild heart by flowerkid -

There is simplicity in your routine, you wake up at an obnoxious hour of the morning and sneak off into the stables to interact with the cavalry team. You’ve grown an attachment to them, for each of the stallions and mares vast in their personality.

The cold air that streams through the barn is overlooked by the horses thanks to their blankets, so the warmth radiating off the one you were braiding their mane was keeping you from trembling.

“Last night they were anxious you didn’t stop by.” a deep voice catches you by surprise, making a small gasp leave your lips.

“Don’t- do that.” you sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. Your gaze moves over to the figure leaning against the stall door.

“Y/n, you’re not supposed to-”

“Use my title, Galliard. Just for scaring my ass off, you owe me this.” your eyes glared at him ever so slightly.

The knight chuckled before, straightening himself out. “My apologies...Countess L/n. But you’re not supposed to be out at this hour till your meeting with your trainer in precisely-” his eyes glance behind the opened barn gates, the sky a slight shade lighter than when he walked in “- an hour and a half.” His tilts to the head. Eyes glistening with amusement.

“Last time I checked, Sir Galliard, I didn’t give you the job of time keeper.”

“No that comes with the job, the job your father assigned me with.” his hand unlocks the metal screw to the stall before entering.

Your riding pants were just barley thick enough to not feel the breeze of air hit you as he swung it closed but the moment he leaned over you, helping you braid the stallions mane, your heart rate spiked.

You of course, wanted him to stay put but sensing your slight agitation, the knight moves over next to you, your elbows touching ever so often.

“How’s your close combat coming along?” he asks softly.

“It could be better...I’m excelling horseback combat though...I think that should be accounted for a little more.” you let a soft laugh escape you.

The rest of the time you finished grooming the stallion was spent in a quiet ambience. It wasn’t awkward or forced but rather gentle and welcoming. It was comfortable and you couldn’t be more thankful for it.

You softly ran your palm over the nose of the horse who was nickering at your attention, lips moving to rub at your finger tips.

Suddenly there was another warm grasp at your hand, this time, it shared your skin. The soft and warm skin your body had, the one you often craved at night to avoid sleeping alone. A soft breath landed on a small exposed portion of your nape. Hairs almost immediately stand up at attention, and you let the hand of the knight envelop yours.

Even though Galliards hand cupped yours, he still found it important to give you space, the slight separation between his chest and your back prominent.

“Galliard..”

“Hm?” his cheek softly presses against yours, and you happily keep it in touch with his. His warmth is all you feel, enveloping you upper body.

“I want you to take me somewhere.” you voice a whisper.

He smiled to himself, automatically remembering what you asked of him a couple days ago.

“The Firefly Festival, correct?” a smile pulled at his lips and you nodded softly at his response.

“I dunno..you’ve been quite rebellious, this amped version of you tends to get both you and I into trouble.”

In attempt to sway him just a little more, you take his wrists softly, and wrap them around your waist. His chin now rests on your shoulders while your head leans against his. The exchanging of each other’s warmth gives your cheeks color, a gorgeous bright red.

What you couldn’t tell, was that not only was your heart ramming against your chest, but so was his. You didn’t notice thanks to your own nerves buzzing through your body.

“Please?..” your cheeky tone makes the knight scoff in annoyance, more amusement the more you heard it.

“Of course.” he nuzzles his closed lips against the nape of your neck, liking the feeling of them tracing the cervices of your tendons. Maybe, in the future, when you've given your confidence away to him, you would be able to initiate a kiss. Your most anticipated gift to him.

But time will tell.

#porco galliard aot #porco x reader #porco galliard #aot #attack on titan #porco galliard fluff #romance

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 1 month

Note

NSFW AoT boys x reader and how they would respond to trying “No Nut November”

no nut november

ft: eren, connie, levi, jean, erwin, porco, zeke, armin

cw: smut ? but it’s pretty tame- not really descriptive

18+ MDNI NSFW

eren thinks no nut november is stupid and a made up thing meant to make virgins feel better about themselves. he doesn’t care about participating it in it. especially when he has you. eren doesn’t make it past the first day of november without tearing your clothes off and finishing inside of you.

connie’s pretty into no not november- mainly because of destroy dick december. despite being a yearly player, he never makes it through the month successfully. what fails him this year is you in a pair of black leggings- he can’t help it. he begs you to let him fuck you and you give in, november claiming yet another loser.

when you brought the idea up to levi, he scoffed. he thinks it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world and he won’t be partaking. he’s going to fuck you whenever and wherever if you’ll let him. he cuts the conversation short by pulling you onto his lap, mumbling something like “i’d fail over and over when it comes to you” into your ear.

jean insists that no nut november is easy, that you just have to have control. and he claims he does. he does pretty good for the first week, you’ll give him that. determined to make him fail, you start sleeping in just a small shirt and underwear. jean cant stand your teasing anymore and decides to fuck you raw after a particularly tough day, november claiming another victim.

erwin takes it a little too seriously. he’s never heard of it until you brought it up to him the other day. interested, he decides to partake in it. and he fucking exceeds, much to your dismay. but as soon as december strikes, he doesn’t waste a minute more. he rams into you for hours with an ungodly amount of stamina for someone who was just practicing abstinence.

zeke thinks it’s a fun idea, as long as you join him in it. thinking it’ll be easy, you agree. turns out you both spend the entirety of november teasing the fuck out of each other, each being too stubborn to lose. zeke makes it a week before he’s quite literally on his knees begging you to get him off.

armin would like to try it. he doesn’t make you participate. he just does it to see how strong-willed he is. but that doesn’t stop him from getting you off. not being able to cum means not being able to fuck you, and he can’t stand it. so he eats you and fingers you daily, making sure you’re getting off. he can’t keep his hands to himself.

porco’s too confident in his ability to make it through the month. it’s all fun and games until he wakes up in the middle of the night with a throbbing boner. not thinking, he gently wakes you up and you two wind up having sex. it’s not until you’re cuddling after does he realize that he’s just lost.

reiner says fuck that. he won’t be participating. he hates the idea so much. you’re his girlfriend and if he wants to fuck you, he will. just for the hell of it, he pushes you up against a wall everyday, slamming you full of his cum. if this is no nut november, you’d hate to see destroy dick december. or love it.

bertholdt wants to partake in it for the ‘nostalgia’ of it all. but ultimately, he caves in because the desire for you is too great. you make him fail by wearing a low cut shirt and nonchalantly bending over to grab something, revealing too much cleavage. you wind up on your knees with his fingers in your hair.

please check out my jean fic 🤍

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anime-fan-05 · 7 months

Note

can you do a headcanon of the warriors (aot) reacting to you hugging them?

by warriors i mean:

reiner

bertholdt

porko

zeke

colt

falco (if you write for him)

Attack on Titan ~You hug them for the first time~

Anime/manga: Attack on Titan

Warnings: nothing

I thought that by "reacting to you hugging them" you meant: "reacting to you hugging them for the first time". Sorry if I was wrong.

Reiner B.

He didn't expect it, so he will stop himself for a second

After, he will return the hug

He will ask you why you hugged him

He will stay to hug you for as long as possible because he will want to imprint the feeling of you hugging him well in his memory

When you part from the hug, he will give you a kiss on the forehead

Bertholdt H.

He will blush so much you will think he's about to faint

"W-what a-are you doing?"

He will remain still, literally: he will become a statue

But, when you try to move yourself away from him, he will hold you close to him

"P-please, stay close to me a little longer."

Porco G.

Typically, he's the one who hugs you first and you surprised him

However, he will return the hug, placing one of his arms on your waist and the other under your legs, and he will pick you up

When you try to budge yourself, he will tell you to stay and hold you tighter

"I didn't say you could move yourself."

The hug will end with a kiss

Zeke Y.

Since he isn't used to receiving physical affection, you will surprise him and he will stay still for a second

Afterwards, he will giggle and hug you back

"Oya oya? Do you miss me that much?"

One of his arms will go around your waist, the other will be behind your head to bring you even closer to him

He will try to stay in that position as much as possible

Colt G.

Like Bertholdt, he will brush and he will stay motionless

"Colt, are you ok?" "Y-yes!"

When he resumes, he will want to hug you tightly

However, he won't know where to put his hands: he will be afraid of embarrassing you or making you feel uncomfortable

Eventually, he will place them on your upper back

Falco G.

He didn't expect it, and, like his brother, he won't know where to put his hands

In the end, he will put his hands on your waist and hold you tight

"Honey, are you ok? Do you need something?" "No, darling. I just wanted to hug you a little." "Oh."

He will want to stay in that position for as long as possible

When you separate from the hug, he will give you a sweet kiss on the cheek

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

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postwarlevi · 11 months

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As the light of a new day peeks through the window, you yawn and blink open your eyes. Smiling you turn to your partner, only to frown instead, finding the bed empty.

Odd, it isn't like you to sleep past him. What time is it anyway?

Just as you turn again to look at the clock you hear shuffling from the hallway and soon he steps into the doorway of the bedroom.

"Morning!" You say cheerfully, removing the blanket, going to get out of bed.

Apparently that is not the plan though, because with his eyes still closed he makes his way to his side of the bed and falls in with a groan.

He is not a morning person.

You smile and shimmy back into bed, stroking his cheek.

"I just had to use the bathroom." He mumbles, sounding like he never woke up.

"Well now that you're awake, I'll go make you breakfast." You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Before you can even turn a strong arm gets hold of you, and you are not going anywhere.

With a tiny laugh you try to pull out of his grip around your body. "Come on now."

He shakes his head and furrows his brow. "No." And his hold tightens.

"No? You don't want breakfast?" You ask softly, kissing his nose playfully.

You don't even get a response, his breathing steadying as he tries to fall back to sleep quickly.

You let out a contented sigh, looking at your lovers relaxed facial features and feeling his body language.

"You can sleep, it's okay, I'll do something else in the meantime until you're ready to get up." You don't mind letting him sleep.

"Just stay." Is his final answer, and with that he tucks you further into his body, assuring you will not be going anywhere.

With a soft chuckle, you don't fight it anymore and snuggle into his chest.

"Okay love, you win." You close your eyes and are soon lulled to sleep by his beating heart.

A tiny smile appears on his lips as you both sleep the morning away.

You both agree that any time you get to spend in each others arms, is something you'd always look forward to.

-------------------

A thank you to @charlotteplsdosth for this reversal idea, I hope it's a bit of a comeback, however small :)

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reinersprozacbottle · 1 year

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Porco Galliard Fluff alphabet ･ﾟ･(｡>ω<｡)･ﾟ･

This is my first official headcanon so I take recommendations/feedback by ask or dms if you’re nice lol. Keep in mind these are canon!verse headcanons. I feel like we don’t have enough of those. We love Porco over here so this was fun to make.

No warnings very sfw

Enjoy!🤍

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

So i def see Porco as a super romantic guy when he’s head over heals for his s/o. Not that he’s doesn’t put efforts on dates otherwise but if he IS he’ll organize walks around his city, picnics, restaurant dates, he’ll buy them flowers pretty much every time they hangout as if he’s on a first date trying to impress them

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He thinks that the way his s/o looks at him longingly is the most beautiful sight ever.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Realistically, during a panic attack, he wouldn’t know what to do or say in the beginning of the relationship. He would be so awkward and just hold them the entire time but as he gets to know them better and their relationship gets stronger, he starts to help them slow their breathing, help them focus on the present moment and give them reassuring words like : “There you go, baby.” “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing great.”

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Ok so obviously canon!verse Porco sadly only sees the relationship as short term since he knows he won’t live for long. Part of him wishes there could be a cure or something just so he could live a long life with them but, hey…

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I picture Porco as rather passive because despite his tough/cocky exterior, when it comes to his lover he very much turns into a puddle. You’ll hear “yes ma’am 🙄” a lot if they’re a girl lol.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Yes!! Because of what I said above. They would have to say something very insulting for him to have difficulty forgiving them. A scenario I imagine would tip him over is if his lover is not Eldian and shares how they are tired that the people of Paradis get treated as a punching bag and abruptly cuts him off when he tries to retort by asking him how he can speak about his own people that way. They call him a “self-hating Eldian” and he very much takes it the wrong way. It would take him a couple days before he forgives them but at least it would make him think. (Should I turn this into a fic?????)

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is very grateful but honestly just for their existence??? For being his partner?? Having someone love him in that way and getting to have a passionate romantic relationship even tough he’s a warrior makes him feel really privileged. He legit worships his beloved because of that.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Not necessarily secrets but he has a hard time expressing/sharing his emotions and fears.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

They made him better </3 He is clearly happier, let’s people into his life more, they’ve made him think about how he was groomed from a young age to pay for the sins of his ancestors and how messed up that is. But mostly, they made him feel like a human being.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

YEEEESS is that not obvious I mean look at him

It’s def so much fun to watch him try to hide it tho

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Yes, he’s a great kisser. The first kiss was very tender and sweet. He really couldn’t believe his life at that moment (lol) and wanted to savour every moment.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

“It’s hard for me to describe how I feel and I have no real future ahead of me, but you’re everything to me”.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes!!!!!! He dreams of it. The wedding would be small with just his warrior friends and his closest family members but all he wants to do is to stare at the ring on his partner’s fingers at the end of the ceremony.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

“Babe”, “Baby”, “Beautiful” in the morning AaahHhGhh

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He tries to keep the relationship lowkey because… he is who he is BUT it’s actually hilarious how obvious it is to his friends and comrades that he’s head over heels in love.

He expresses his love physically the best because he lowkey hates how red and hot he gets when he has to tell his lover how much he adores them.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Like I said earlier he is trying to keep things under the radar BUT he always compliments them whether they’re in the room or not to a point where Zeke rolls his eyes at the millionth mention of how “smart” and “brave” they are. So no PDA.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship

His commitment

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

VERY, VERY cliché romantic guy think roses, cute nicknames, cooking, drawing a bath for you, foot massages😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He doesn’t really have the time to help them but is always supporting them and reminds them that they can achieve anything they put their heart into.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Unfortunately, because of his lifestyle he cannot afford to “switch it up” here and there but he would definitely prefer to.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows them better than anyone else whether they’re an open book or more reserved. He doesn’t even have to spend a lot of time with them, he just does.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Warriors don’t have a lot going for them aside from shallow admiration from fellow Eldians, and the love from their family and friends (if they have any). That is the reason why after his relationship with his mother, his genuine, heart felt romantic relationship is the most important.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

So one time after a warrior mission, he came home very wounded to the point where he was healing very slowly and his titan scars were still on his face. Fortunately, his s/o was there and took care of him also drowning him in kisses. He was taken aback by the fact that despite his very hollow cheeks and overall scary titan-esque look, they still wanted to show him affection that way.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes it’s his favorite thing to do he’s legit a teddy bear

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He will read the romantic letters they send him. He’s not really one to write letters but he will enjoy reading them before going to bed.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes he will make sure by any means necessary that you work out what’s wrong in your relationship. Like that man would stop at nothing it’s kinda scary.

Thank you for reading!! Prompts by @/snk-warriors

#gallipieck #pokkopiku #porco imagines #porco x reader #attack on titan porco #porco headcanons #porco galliard #aot x reader #aot canonverse #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fandom #aot fluff #aot drabbles #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin

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sommerflue-22 · 1 year

Text

Little Things They Do... (Pt. 3)

Little things they do to show you they love you

Read the other parts: Part 1 // Part 2

Featuring: Reiner Braun, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger, Zeke Jaeger, Bertholdt Hoover, Porco Galliard

Warning: Modern setting

Word Count: 748

Author Note

Hi! This will be the last of the series. I've linked the previous parts for you to read. Here's the song I listened to while writing this. I feel like this part is more gloomy because hey I'm kind of a mess rn haha. I hope you still enjoy it, tho. Again, these actions can be perceived platonically or romantically, whatever suits you.

Reiner

Reiner worries about you a lot even though you're a grown adult, fully capable of doing stuff on your own. When you both are apart from each other, you keep each other updated. What you both are doing, where you're at, who you're with. After you got your own car, Reiner text you to drive safe all the time. Especially when you're alone or during the winter. He can help you if you cut your finger when cooking, he can help you if you're sick from walking in the rain, but he can't really help you if anything happens while you're driving alone. He doesn't want to think of the worst case scenario. Whatever your relationship is with him, whether it's romantic or platonic, he doesn't want to lose you.

Annie

Annie is not the type of person who will explicitly say she loves you. She is also not a big fan of physical contact. You are no exception, but she really does care for you a lot. So, whenever you're out with her and need to cross a street, she will hold your hand. She doesn't ask you if you need help crossing the street, nor does she glances at you and smile (like you often sees in movies). Annie just automatically holds your hand and leads you forward, looking both ways to make sure everything is safe.

Pieck

Pieck is a busy lady, okay? She works hard, every single day. She's highly professional and her colleagues count on her a lot. However, when it's just the two of you, she puts away any mental to-do list or any work-related stuff. She just wants to be with you, listening to you talking. She pays attention to you and you only. Of course, she will talk about work if you ask her about it. Though, she'd rather spend her free time not worrying about work. She feels like she can relax and be her everyday, cheerful self with you.

Zeke

Having a relationship in general is not easy, but having a relationship with Zeke is definitely on the next level. He can be stubborn at times, and even though he doesn't mean it, he might say things that hurt you. Not to mention, his *cough* family issue. Loving Zeke, as a friend or as a lover, is not easy. You both argue a lot, often times resulting in one of you taking time away from the other. Most of the time, it's you who request a time off. Now, Zeke is quite a prideful man alright. He doesn't go mushy and beg you to stay. He let you go be alone for a few days, but eventually he will be the one who apologizes first. He doesn't do that with other people, but he does for you. Because you never leave him, and he would love to keep it that way.

Bertholdt

Bertholdt can be shy at times, especially when he just met someone for the first time. Maintaining eye contact while someone else is talking to him can be difficult. He felt uncomfortable, like the other person might discover who he really is just by staring into his eyes. How insecure he feels sometimes, the dark thoughts that he keeps for lonely nights, and other things private. You are the only exception. You don't judge, you show him that hey, it's alright to be a little messed up sometimes. You've seen him in states that nobody else has ever seen, even his parents. That is why he's not afraid to look into your eyes. He appreciates you, and he lets you in.

Porco

Porco can be passive-aggressive at times and most of the time he might think he's always right, especially when it has been a long day for him. People might start an argument, or they'll let it go while mentally cursing the man. You, on the other hand, you're one of the few people who can deal with him. Instead of starting an argument (causing him to get worked up) or walking away (and seeing him with a smug expression), you just simply say "Alrighty~ Agree to disagree" It's a new response that Porco didn't anticipate, and you say it with the most chill tone/expression. After awhile, he tried not to be so snappy and cocky with you. He even gives up his need to always be right. You can tell him the rain happens because the angels are taking a piss, and he'll just nodded. "Whatever you say..."

Idk man, I just really love Bertholdt, Reiner, and Zeke. Precious men. Deserves better. I love them.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it. Lemme know what you think in the comment :)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot x you #aot x reader #reiner braun x reader #annie leonhardt x reader #pieck finger x reader #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yaeger x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #porco galliard x reader #snk x reader #fluff #reader insert #modern setting #new blog #no beta we die like erwin

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mochalate · 11 days

Text

[3] precipice ; porco galliard (2/2)

pairing: porco galliard/f!reader chapter word count: 24.6 k chapter content/warnings: secret meetings in the dark, crushing on your bf/gf, porco's scandalous sexual history, some angsting about marcel, girls' night out chapter summary: The most precious secrets are the ones that are the hardest to keep. a/n: this is overdue, isn't it? 🤭🤭posting as two parts because I learned tumblr has a post length limit!! As always, please let me know what you think, I love hearing from my fellow galliard girlies. <3 Read on AO3? || See Series Masterlist? [<-Chapter 3 (1/2)][Chapter 4->]

The old woman gives Porco his change. The coins are cold against his palm, from sitting near her ice chest. He doesn’t like how they jingle in his pockets with every step; and he plans to give them to the children, once he gets back to them.

“Just the one, dearie?” she asks, in her quakey voice.

Porco nods.

Her husband hands him the ice cream cone wrapped in tissue. He says something too, but the man doesn’t have enough teeth left for Porco to make out the words.

“Thank you,” he replies, hoping it’s appropriate. “It’s good to see you two as well.”

It’s a pleasantly warm afternoon, but they’re both bundled up in matching brown coats. Pigeons flock at their feet, pecking at the breadcrumbs they’ve scattered around. They’re sitting on one of the wooden benches under the elms that line the path through the park. Mottled light filters through the drying, thinning leaves in large patches— Liberio is entering autumn. It's fairly crowded, with people wanting to enjoy the cooler weather.

(It’s a nice day, for once.)

The old woman— Porco doesn’t know her name, but she’s been here for as long as he can remember— gives him a wry smile. “He asked if you wanted spoons, to share with your lady friend.”

Porco swallows. “It’s not like that. We’re— we’re colleagues.” He can feel the chill emanating from the ice cream against the sudden, anxious warmth on his skin.

“That’s what I told him!” She smacks the man across his upper arm. “No armband on her! She’s one of us, you old lout. Don’t you go getting this poor boy in trouble.”

Her husband chuckles.

Porco thanks them again, and begins walking back; but the exchange has his nerves on edge. Was he being careless? Was this too dangerous? This was a mistake. It was selfish of him to ask you to come here, out in the daylight.

The carpet of red and yellow leaves crunches under his boots. He sees you alone on the bench. Your uniform is stark white against the muted, earthy colours around you. Just a nurse; spending her lunch break out in the only green patch for miles around.

You’re watching the children play. They’ve somehow roped Colt into their game while Porco was gone, and he’s chasing them across the grass.

“Po— Galliard,” you greet him pleasantly as he comes up.

Right. You’re a nurse from the hospital nearby, and he’s Galliard. It couldn’t be any other way, not out here; no matter how much he felt otherwise when he looked at you. He’s stupid to have forgotten that. He’s stupid to have forced you into it.

Porco hands you the cone, and pulls his hand back even though he wants to let his fingers linger against yours for a little longer.

“For me?” you ask, pleased. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. Thank you!”

The delight on your face makes him guilty, somehow. “You didn’t get any for yourself earlier.”

You lick the ice cream. “I didn’t know if I was supposed to. All their customers were…”

“Eldian,” he completes. He swallows back a sigh, and goes to lean against the tree behind the bench. Stupid.

You turn to look at him with a sad smile. “You can’t sit with me, can you?”

“It’s not a good idea,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.” You tell him, turning back.

This is a public park, and it’s one of the handful of areas outside the internment zone that’s open to Liberio’s Eldian population— upon obtaining permission from the relevant authorities, of course. And still, the two peoples separate like oil and water. The path that runs through the middle of the park is a boundary. You’re allowed to be here, but on this side— the Eldian side— you’re an oddity.

(Of course, no one on this side dares say anything about it. But they do stay away; and none of the other children join in with the candidates’ game.)

“You and Colt seemed friendly with that old couple,” you comment, still looking ahead. “Who are they? They weren’t wearing armbands.”

The old Marleyan couple has been here since before he was born, and he's sure they'll be here long after he's gone. “Their son was in the military,” he explains. “An Eldian saved his ass thirty years ago, and carried him back behind the lines after he lost his legs to a landmine.”

“That's terrible.”

“Well, he survived. And now he runs an ice cream shop, so mom and dad express their gratitude by bringing some over every weekend for the Eldian kids.”

You sound impressed. “They've been doing it for thirty years?”

“Give or take. We don’t buy anything from the regular shops because…” He trails off. Because, there’s a good chance they would add rat poison to the sprinkles— but he doesn’t want to tell you that.

He doesn’t have to continue though, since Colt chooses this moment to trip and fall teeth first into the grass.

(Again, Porco thinks in disbelief. Good luck for everyone but himself.)

Colt picks himself up but stays on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. You gasp out a soft ‘oh no’. The children worriedly look at each other, suddenly silent, and cautiously approach him.

You're trying to hurriedly hand Porco your cone to go check on him when Colt explodes upwards, and tackles Falco to the ground with a triumphant cry. The other three shriek and scatter.

Porco watches you laugh, sitting back down with your arm resting across the back of the bench. He watches the ice cream melt, beginning to run down your fingers. Something squeezes his heart. He really does want to hold your hand.

“Hey,” he says. “My throat’s been kind of sore.”

You scrunch your eyebrows as you look up at him. The dappled sunlight shines across your face. “Warm water will—”

“I think I'm going to go get it checked at the hospital before I head home.”

Your frown deepens in confusion before understanding dawns. “Oh! Oh, you could do that. Yes.”

“I'm going to tell Colt I'm leaving. You're uh, you're probably heading to your shift after you finish eating, right?”

You nod, incredibly seriously.

And so Porco finds himself, about twenty minutes later, at the reception counter in Liberio General’s marbled foyer. The nurse on duty is a small woman, with her black hair in a wavy— almost curly— bob. She’s standing; but she’s short enough that her shoulders barely clear the tall counter. The way she’s staring at him is unnerving.

It’s because she’s staring at him, Porco realises. Not at the armband.

“Uhm…” he says, because the silence has stretched on for a fair bit now. “Like I said, I wanted to see our regular nurse but she wasn’t at—”

She blinks at him. Her eyes are large and round. “You look fine. Really fine. Wow.”

Porco blinks back. “... thank you? But I—”

“Were you really going to die, or would you have been fine anyway if they just let you steam in the corner for a bit?”

Porco thinks he should probably be offended by this, but there isn’t even a hint of malice in her words— which is impressive, because those were hard words to say without malice. And honestly, with that uniform, she reminds him of you; just a little. So he decides to engage with her.

“…Are you talking about back in the Mid-East? Were you there?”

“I wasn’t with you, but I was there.” She leans closer. “So, were you? Going to die.”

“I was bleeding pretty bad. Probably would have.”

“Wow. I wish I could heal like you.” She pulls back her sleeve, and shows him a long, thin burn on her forearm. “Got this from a pot. It’s so ugly.”

“It’s not that bad,” Porco assures her. It really isn’t. “Can I see my usual nurse? Her name is—”

“I know who your nurse is. She’s not here yet, though. What seems to be the problem?”

He doesn’t think he can get away with a sore throat. “My, uh, eye hurts. And sometimes I see spots. Big ones.”

She frowns. “And it won't heal itself? It sounds like you need a doctor, not a nurse. I can make you an appointment—”

“No! She… she needs to get me a referral. I’m uh, military property, after all. Can’t go around making my own appointments.”

“Oh, is that how it works? That’s inconvenient.” She sounds genuinely sympathetic.

Porco almost feels bad for the blatant lie. “It is.”

“Hmm. But she’s not here yet.” The nurse thoughtfully taps her chin. “If it hurts real bad, I can get a surgeon to smash your skull in and then we can wait for the whole thing to reset. That should fix it.” She looks pleased with this idea. “I don’t think we need a surgeon for it at all! You wouldn’t even have to wait.”

Porco’s mouth falls open. “Helos, lady. You know I can still feel the pain, right?”

“You can?” She looks shocked. “Oh my. That’s inconvenient.”

“…It is.”

Porco’s almost ready to go and take his chances back at the park; when you pop into his vision, a little breathless.

“Hi, Hannah.” you say to the nurse at the counter.

She chirps back a greeting. “You’re breathing hard. Did you run here or something?”

“Thought I’d be late.” Then you turn to Porco, biting your lip. He thinks he can hear a barely-suppressed giggle in your voice. “What are you doing here, Galliard?”

The nurse at the counter— Hannah, she seems to be your friend, so he tells himself to remember her name— tells you about his eye.

“Ah, it is an immune privileged site,” you tell her. “It makes sense.”

“Oh, it does! Why didn’t I think of that?” Hannah gasps. “Will we really have to smash in his skull to fix it after all?”

You look stunned, and more than a little concerned. “Why are we— ? Hannah, did you tell him we’d do that?”

“It was just a suggestion,” she says sheepishly. “Look, lunch is almost over, but why don’t you go have a look at him in exam room three? That’s Dr. Klein’s today, and he’s always late. There’s time.”

“Dr. Klein…” you mutter. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ll do that before clocking in then, okay?”

You barely wait for her to answer, before giving his sleeve a tug— his heart skips a beat— and leading him out of the foyer. The examination room is only a short distance down the corridor. You hold the door open for him to follow you inside.

This room is far more spacious than number sixteen. It’s about half the size of the clinic. The walls are made of panelled wood, and the shelving doesn't seem to overflow. Sunlight shines through the tall windows.

(Porco doesn’t know when he started finding the smell of antiseptic and the sight of sterilised steel to be this comforting.)

He leans comfortably against the examination table. He's never been here before, yet it feels strangely familiar, as he watches you moving around. You’re drawing the curtains. The room dims, but the curtains are light; and the day outside is sunny, so it’s still fairly well-lit.

“Can you sit on the table, please?” you ask him, as you rummage through the drawers. “In case anyone comes in without knocking.”

He obliges.

You pull out a small penlight from one of the drawers. “So, something is wrong with your eyes, is it?” It flashes on and off, as you make sure it works.

Porco can see you relax too. The practised, formal expression melts off your face. You come to stand between his legs; and when you look at him again, your eyes are full of affection.

(He puts his hands around your waist, just like last time. But this time, he doesn’t need to let you go.)

Fuck, he thinks. Beautiful. He isn’t capable of making longer sentences at the moment.

And he can’t hold himself back anymore. He grabs your face between his palms, and kisses you. You make a muffled noise, but you don’t resist.

“Would it be cheesy to say,” he says after, with his hands still on your cheeks, and his forehead resting against yours, “that something’s wrong with them, because I can’t stop looking at you?”

“Incredibly cheesy. But I don’t mind.”

Porco hums, and tugs your hands into his lap. His back is to the door. Like this, no one coming in can see how your fingers are intertwined with his. Finally.

It feels quiet.

He realises his mind has been noisy all day; anxiously trying to keep this secret. Trying to live in two worlds at once— one where he's supposed to be, and one here with you.

Maybe he should be saying something, and making the most of this brief time he has alone with you. But somehow, he’s content just like this; holding your hand, feeling its warmth without words.

“Porco,” you say, looking down and gently squeezing his fingers, “thank you for coming to see me again.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” He squeezes back. “Hey, look at me. I’ll always come back to you, alright? Don’t ever doubt that.”

You open your mouth to say something else; but there’s a knock on the door. You jolt backwards and wrench one of your hands out of his, to grab the penlight. It clicks on just as the door swings open.

It’s Hannah from earlier, here to tell you Dr. Klein would arrive in five minutes.

You look calm, and your voice is level when you tell her you’re almost done. But Porco can feel your hand trembling in his.

It's noisy again. And too bright.

It wasn’t always like this.

No, that’s not entirely true. It used to be like this. Then it wasn’t for a little while. And now it is again.

For a little while, you weren’t scared of doing things. You thought you finally knew what those right answers were, and figured that the ones that didn’t really make sense to you didn’t make sense to anyone— especially not the people here in the hospital. You thought you didn’t have to make those choices you didn’t agree with.

That’s why you told Dr. Klein he had to try and save Julie.

That’s how you learned you were wrong.

And now here you are again, terrified of taking a step outside the lines.

It’s certainly easier this way.

(It is, it is.)

Did you get it right the first time? Or were you just making old mistakes?

(You admire Porco; and how casually he’d asked you to join him at the park, and then at the hospital. You feel terrible that you haven’t been able to bring yourself to do the same for him.)

“Sorry, I'd invite you, but…”

When Eileen gives you that apologetic look, uncomfortably fiddling with the end of one of her long, red braids; the easiest thing to do is to say you understand, that it’s alright. And then you watch her scurry away down the corridor to join the other nurses about to take their break out on the grounds.

Eileen had graduated with you.

She was from a small town too, but not as good as yours, so maybe that was why she knew the answers so very well. You’re sure she must have sworn up and down to the disciplinary board that you’d made a mistake.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame her.

One of the nurses glances back over her shoulder as she’s leaving, and accidentally catches your eye. You desperately try to stop yourself, but you can’t help the flash of hope. Maybe they changed their minds, maybe Eileen convinced them that—

Then she whips her face forward, and leans towards Eileen to whisper something. They erupt into giggles.

It's pathetic, you think as they disappear around the corner, that it still upsets you this much.

You’d thought it would be different, after being away for months in the Mid-East; hoped that was enough time for them to forget. But nothing has changed. You’re still the one who made a mistake— the one who wouldn’t even admit to it.

The one who it was better not to talk to, just in case.

You’re standing in the corridor outside one of the general wards. It’s a quiet night. In the ward, there’s just an assortment of allergies, and a few broken bones. Only a handful of the rickety cots with their starched white sheets and thin pillows are occupied.

It’s not nearly busy enough to keep you distracted from how terribly your shift is going; and there’s still hours left before you can go home. You sigh, and lean your back against the wall.

The hospital has had lightbulbs installed recently. They burn yellow under their flower-shaped lamp shades, all along the corridor. You tilt your head to peek underneath; fascinated by the loops of glowing filament.

Would it have made a difference, you wonder, if it had been this bright back then?

The memory makes your stomach churn. You turn your gaze down towards the dull red carpet, trying to blink away the ghostly afterimage of the bulb’s guts.

The night of the accident had been a new moon, dark and cloudless. There hadn’t been any bulbs then. Just a thousand candles lining the corridors; the windows shut to keep them from going out. The stuffy heat of the flames and what felt like a hundred bodies packed into the narrow space, a writhing mass of white bandages and the red and brown of blood, too enveloped in strange shadows to make out where each person started and ended; only the noise of children wailing for their mothers, people calling out other’s names. So many names.

Stephen, Stephen, are you here? Please, is my son Stephen here?

Have you seen Sarah?

Maria…? No, no, NO!

And then there was Julie.

Silent.

(No, not silent. Not entirely, not yet.)

You’re so lost in reminiscing, you don’t notice the muted thumping of the wooden cane on the thin carpet, until its owner is right beside you.

“I was hoping you would be here,” a man’s voice says.

You’re jolted out of the memory. Exhaling, you look to the side.

(You remember that voice, how could you forget?)

“Director Klein. Good evening, sir.”

The old man adjusts his cane. “And a good evening to you too, my dear. Would you join me in my office?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer. It wasn’t really a question, after all. The Director rarely asks questions. You push yourself off the wall to follow him further up the corridor.

White. That’s always your first impression of him. Snow white hair and beard— both neatly clipped and combed— and a white shirt under a pristine, long, white coat. You’re sure he carries that cane purely for the effect the carved golden handle has on people; because his back is straight and his steps are strong and confident, as he makes his way up to his office. He's missing at least fifteen of his seventy years.

You remember the last time you walked behind him, down this exact path, with blood crusted under your fingernails, and stained into that skirt you would eventually go home and throw away.

My son was alive, ALIVE!

Ma’am, it was a mistake in the paperwork—

Yes, a mistake! Yours!

Director Klein’s office hasn’t changed, either— tall bookcases, stuffed with leather bound volumes; and the walls so covered with photographs and certificates you would be hard pressed to find a square inch of the flowery wallpaper underneath. He takes his seat behind the heavy cherrywood desk.

You’re left standing in the middle of a room that feels cramped enough to make you claustrophobic; and yet big enough to have you feeling small and awkward at the same time.

“How are you?” he asks. There’s sincerity in his voice.

“Fine. I… fit in better than I thought I would, there.”

“You can still come back.”

You swallow, and look away. “I still don’t want to.”

“I’m only trying to help you, child. Don't be stubborn.”

He sounds concerned. He sounded concerned that night too, when you really thought you could have made a difference by pleading your case.

Dr. Klein, you agreed with me. Why are you—

I didn't have time to check for myself! You really must have made a mistake!

“I appreciate you offering, sir. But I think it would just cause a lot of trouble if I came back here full time. I’m— it's not worth it.”

Dad, she's a new nurse. It's understandable. But our reputation is on the line. You need to clear it up with the committee so they don't think a doctor—

The Director scrutinises you for a few moments. Then he sighs. For a second, he looks much more like the old man he is. “Very well. It's not what I wanted to discuss. Please, sit.”

You sit.

He reaches down to open his desk drawer, and pulls out a red folder that he slides across towards you. It’s emblazoned with the military coat of arms.

You look curiously at him. He gestures for you to open it. You do, and find a single sheet of paper.

“A confidentiality agreement?” Your heart beats a little faster; but a quick skim reveals no details, except for a vague description of titan research. “What for?”

The Director raises an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t be much of an agreement if I could just tell you.”

You read the document again, slower this time. Project Merlot, proclaims the bold type on top of the page.

“You can’t tell me anything?”

“Not unless you sign.”

The idea is exciting. I wish I had something interesting to tell you, is what you’d said to Porco. Well, here it is. Something outside the routine of the clinic, and something other than being treated like you have a contagious disease.

What gives you pause, however, is the fact that it has something to do with titans. ‘Research on titans’, especially where the military is concerned, was just a polite way to say ‘experimenting on Eldians’.

(The memory of Falco, trying to hide his nervousness flashes through your mind. One of the most insidious rumours about Eldians is that they don’t feel pain. You know how much of a lie that is.)

“Why would you want me on this?” you ask the director, frowning. “Considering… my reputation.”

He peers at you over his glasses. “Zeke Yeager requested you specifically.”

You’re surprised. Why would an Eldian want to take the lead on a project like this? “He’s involved?”

There’s a hint of a smile on the Director’s face. “Again, I couldn’t tell you. I’ve signed one of these myself.” He takes off his glasses, and produces a soft-looking cleaning cloth from his breast pocket. “I admit this probably won’t be the most pleasant of projects,” he says, wiping the lenses, “but if I may venture to say so, it is precisely because of your reputation that I think it would be better with you on it.”

You stay silent, unsure.

“You can take a day to think it through, if you prefer.”

The thought of asking Porco what he thinks half-forms in your mind; but suddenly, you’re annoyed— annoyed that you’re so scared all the time, that you can’t seem to bring yourself to do things without some kind of permission, even when the opportunity seems to fall into your lap.

Things have to change.

“May I borrow a pen?”

The Director smiles— it’s a rare sight— and gives you the one from his breast pocket. You take a deep breath, and hover over the dotted line for just a second, before signing your name in glossy black ink.

In the back of your mind, you know this is objectively going to be a terrible job— one which will more likely than not end with you having to throw more bloodstained skirts away. That’s why you’re the one signing your name, and not the children of one of the higher ranking officials. It’s how these things usually work.

But as you close the door to the Director’s office behind you, you find yourself feeling more and more like you won’t regret it. Not if you can help make sure even one person suffers a little less. It’s what you’re good at.

“Ah— I was hoping you’d still be here.”

It feels like déjà vu, when you turn to the side. He looks so much like his father.

“Doctor,” you say. You don’t greet him any further.

Benjamin Klein awkwardly shuffles his feet. The last time you saw him, he had all the charm that came with being the son of a rich, important man— it had dazzled you too. Right now though, he looks a little small.

“How are you? Is the new appointment treating you—”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been away from my post for too long. Please excuse me.” You walk past him, back towards the general ward.

It feels awful, being even slightly rude to him. You think you may throw up right there from the nerves; all over his shiny leather shoes. But if you’re going to stop being scared, biting your tongue and being nice to this man simply doesn’t fit. No matter how powerful he is.

He doesn’t take the hint. That probably also had to do with being the son of a rich, important man.

“I feel terrible about what happened. It’s been a while now, and—” he starts saying, following along beside you.

And you think it’s okay to be seen talking to me again.

“— we never got to have that cup of coffee together. Will you let me make it up to you?”

There had been a time, when those meaningless flirtations he would offer you had actually made you happy. But now you’re at the ward doors, about to step back into that cold place; and all you can think is that he’s incredibly selfish.

“I don’t think I’m free, doctor.”

You catch only a glimpse of his disappointed face, as the doors swing closed.

For the longest time, you’d tried to force yourself to believe that no one had had any choice in that whole affair. But then Porco had shown you that there was always a choice.

Doctor Klein hadn’t been alone in the choices he’d made that night. You know you’re not the only one who saw that the little Marleyan boy was beyond help. You know that there were several eyes who couldn’t meet yours as you pleaded with his mother in the middle of the corridor, while your fingers were still sticky with Julie’s blood.

You shake your head to clear it. Being at the hospital always brought the memories back, but there’s no point remembering any of the details now.

(Even if no one will let you forget it.)

Eileen and the others are back. It doesn’t even cross your mind to try and approach any of them. The distance feels too big to cross by yourself.

You’re neither here nor there now, you realise— rejected by Marleyans, yet still distrusted by Eldians.

That was the strange thing about the military base, you think. It’s the strictest place— by far— when it came to marking out that boundary. But it’s also where it blurred the most; in a way it never could outside the battlefield. Fighting beside someone, bleeding beside them was a camaraderie that turned it into a line in the sand, right up at the edge of the waves.

You know that kind of connection, forged in blood, is dangerously addictive.

It’s still the best place for you to be.

You’re distracted by a tap on your shoulder, and someone calling your name, for the third time tonight. You turn, half-expecting the ghost of the deceased, previous Director Klein.

But it’s only Hannah.

(It’s still unexpected, since this ward is the farthest from the administrative wing, but not as much.)

“Took you long enough!” She brandishes a folder at you. “I didn’t trust those bitches to give this to you if I left it with them. Here, it’s a temporary schedule for next week…”

For someone with less than two years to live, Porco thinks as he leans into the plush meeting room chair and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, Zeke really is taking his sweet time.

Just like the walls, there’s not much to look at up there— there aren’t even any windows in the room. Porco figures it’s more paranoia than any actual need for security, here on the third floor.

(After all, there was plenty of time to dream up imaginary assassins, when the last time you faced a real enemy was twenty years ago.)

It’s his first time being deemed important enough to be here. This is the fancy meeting room— the one where the asses usually occupying these chairs are highly paid, and have great retirement benefits. Where you walk in, and are immediately faced with a row of larger-than-life, grandiose portraits of former Generals; decorated with medals and standing in front of red velvet curtain backgrounds.

Like he said, not much to look at.

Porco gets up, and walks towards the only things worth anyone’s attention in the room— the row of copper plaques right below the paintings. He runs his hand over the engraving. Names. Dozens of names, his among them. Marley’s titan holders.

Their names, and their years of service.

(Only the years of service. The military didn’t care when you were born, or how long you’d gotten to grow up.)

He follows the lists down to the very end, running his fingers over each line, letting the syllables of each name rest in his mind for a second before moving on to the next. He’d like it if someone would do that for him, he figures.

And then he arrives at his own.

Porco Galliard: 850 —

It's like an open grave. He tries to imagine what it would look like in ten years, picturing the curves of the eight and the six and the three that would one day be carved into the plate.

For a moment, he’s surprised by how naturally the number comes to him. And then he steels himself. No, there’s nothing surprising about it. He will make sure he gets his full term. He won’t leave you behind any sooner than he has to.

Porco’s eyes flick to the name above.

Marcel Galliard. 845-846.

One year. The twelve years before; with all the meals they’d shared, the times they’d walked home together, the countless memories of birthdays, of fights, and just plain talking in the middle of the night— none of that was worthy of being recorded. No, just the one year.

(A rare courtesy from the military, really. Marcel hadn’t actually made it past the winter.)

Maybe it was for the higher ups too, Porco muses. To help them rationalise how they treated people like tools, simply discarded once they were too blunt to use.

But they aren’t just tools, they’re people; and they stubbornly persist.

The memories of a direct predecessor came like remembered dreams— the details always vague, but sometimes the emotions were remarkably clear. But going back any further was difficult. There was no telling what could trigger it. Porco had spent hours in their old room after he inherited the Jaw, rummaging through Marcel’s things— increasingly desperately— to no avail.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Pieck tells him of an inexplicable happiness, a sense of security when she smells apple pies now. In the brief time they’d had before Marcel was sent to Paradis, he’d suddenly been able to cut and shuffle a deck of cards like a seasoned magician. Porco now gets uneasy on snowy days, when he used to love them.

(He can’t help but feel he got the short end of the stick there, somehow.)

He wonders what will be left of you, in the memories he has to pass down. Will his successors love sweet vanilla, like he tasted on your lips? Will they be comforted by the sight of the elms lining the streets in the old part of the city? Maybe they would feel strangely compelled to turn their eyes to the ground, and watch the swaying shadows of the leaves on the cobblestone.

Porco misses you.

He hasn’t been able to talk to you— really talk to you— for two days now; not since you anxiously approached him on the training grounds under the guise of having to reschedule his regular checkup, and told him about the temporary schedule that would have you working the evening shifts at the hospital all week.

(Porco can only think God had decided to fuck it up for him again.)

(One time, when he’d made a similar comment, Colt had said with some surprise that he didn’t think Porco was the religious type. Porco doesn’t really think of himself as a religious type either, he just likes having something to be angry with.)

He glances at the clock on the wall. You should be locking up the clinic right about now, busily wiping down the counters and locking the cabinets.

“What are you smiling about, Pock?” Pieck asks him.

He’s shocked that he didn’t hear her coming up to him, and that he hadn’t remembered to keep his face straight while he was thinking about you. “Nothing. Just in a good mood.”

She looks at him wryly. “I won’t say you’re never in a good mood, but it’s rare, and you’ve been grumpy all day so far.” I’m not buying it, her eyes say.

Drop it, he says, rolling his own. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

She sighs dramatically. “You’ve been so distant lately.”

It’s a lighthearted comment, but Porco immediately feels guilty. There’s never been a lot he doesn’t share with her, not since they became the two left behind. “Pieck, I—”

Pieck smiles and pats his shoulder. “It’s just a joke. I’m not going anywhere yet, don’t worry.”

(Her name is, after all, right above Marcel’s.)

He thinks this is the part where he should be a good friend, and reassure her that he’s not shutting her out. Tell her he’ll tell her later, at a better time. But he knows there will never be a time where he wouldn’t be burdening her with his secret. So he just swallows, and nods.

“I haven’t been in here in a long time,” she comments. “The plaques are a little creepy, right?”

More than a little, if he’s being honest. “It’s like they can’t wait to get rid of us.”

“Good luck to them.” Pieck runs her finger up the list; going back thirty, forty years. It stops, on one Francis Zimmer. “Him. He’s the one who liked apple pie, I think. I looked through the newspaper archives in the public library.” She looks a little sad as she continues. “He asked for it as his last meal.”

Porco bumps her with his elbow. “Don’t go getting all mopey on me until after the meeting, please.”

“I won’t, that’s your job,” she teases back. “How about we go sit down again? I think Reiner must be getting lonely.”

Porco glances back over his shoulder, to where Reiner is still sitting at the long meeting table. He’s poured himself some water, but it sits untouched in front of him; as he forlornly contemplates it.

“I think he’s about to start crying into his glass,” Porco says incredulously. “I don’t want to be there for that.”

Pieck sighs. “He’s been through a lot, Pock. Cut him some slack.”

“I cut him plenty of slack,” Porco scoffs.

He’s about to continue, but there’s voices in the corridor, and the door opens. Commander Magath walks in, followed by another army official, and then Zeke.

Once everyone has taken their seats, Zeke starts to distribute the stack of red folders he has with him.

“Everyone comfortable?” he asks, jovially. “This has been in the works for a while now, but I can finally introduce to you all, Project Merlot.”

The army official— he’s got an absurd amount of medals pinned to his chest— scowls at him. “Before Yaeger continues, I am reminding everyone that anything which is discussed in this room cannot be repeated outside of it.”

“Of course, Major,” Zeke says. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he rests his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers. “It would be disastrous if the public were to hear that there will be pure titans inside Liberio quite soon, after all.”

It’s remarkable, you think, how boldly the mess hall on base puts up a menu every day; when everyone knows they’ll run out of almost everything by three, and that whatever’s left will be indistinguishable by taste, sight, or smell.

“I think this one’s yours,” you tell Claire, frowning at the ambiguous brown lumps floating in the gravy in front of you. “These are potatoes, right?”

Claire pokes at them with a fork. “I don’t know. They feel kind of chicken-y to me.”

“I think they’re both potatoes.”

Claire picks up a piece with her fork, and cautiously takes a bite. She chews thoughtfully. “...at least there’s pudding today,” she says after a moment of consideration, nose scrunched.

Someone shouts near the outside entrance to the hall. You and Claire turn to look down the rows of long wooden tables. A group of soldiers has just come in, shoving open both doors, and everyone sitting nearby is yelling at them to stop letting the cold in. Outside, the autumn afternoon is grey and overcast.

The sun has only shown hints of itself since this morning; when you woke up to a day so cold, you could have sworn you’d slept through the months to winter. The brown cardigan you’re wearing over your uniform is barely enough to keep you comfortable.

The hall is warm enough though, with so many people in it; but the noise of a dozen conversations from several very loud, very boisterous young soldiers blends together into a cloud of sound where you can’t pick out any one thing. It buzzes in the background of what Claire is saying, drowning her words in its mush.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” you ask, squinting your eyes, as if it will help your ears.

She repeats herself, a little louder. “I said, is that the lipstick I gave you? It looks nice. I told you it would suit you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

When you’d reached for your usual shade this morning, you’d remember Porco’s story about Braun. It had just been a silly thought, that you should change the colour just in case— you doubt Braun even knew you were wearing makeup at all— but you’d tried on a different one just for fun. The brownish-pink looked unexpectedly nice.

It had made the ache in your chest even worse.

You want to be able to show it to Porco. It’s been four days since you’ve been able to see him, and each passing sunset makes you miss the golden evenings in the clinic more and more.

(You miss him so much.)

“Are you sick?” Claire asks. “You look a little pale.”

“I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit.

Claire scowls. “Are those idiots still giving you trouble during your shifts? You have to report them, it’s harassment—”

“I’m fine,” you insist. Their behaviour honestly hasn’t been bothering you all that much recently. “It’s just a few of them, and I don’t like them anyway.”

Claire looks at you suspiciously, but then sighs and pulls out a small notebook from her pocket. “If that’s what you want to do. Do you mind if I work on some of the wedding planning? I’m running behind.”

“Go ahead,” you say. “What are you working on?”

“The guest list,” she replies. “We decided to keep it small, so I’m deciding who gets the cut.”

She looks concerningly gleeful when she says that.

“You’ll be invited, of course.” Claire says, misinterpreting your expression. “But I won’t have the invitations printed for a while. Do you need a plus one?”

There’s the smallest lump in your throat when you say you don’t.

Claire hums, focused on her list. “Cassandra’s out, that’s obvious.” You don’t know who Cassandra is, or why Claire is sneering at her name. “Michael stays,” she continues absently.

“Michael?” you ask. “The soldier from the hospital? I didn’t think you liked him.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t like him, but I can’t not invite him. After all that business with his family…”

Claire vaguely explains, but you never do find out what happened to Michael Sells and his family; because at that moment, another gust of cold wind washes through the hall, and you instinctively turn your attention to the door.

You see the red armbands first, and your heartbeat quickens.

Zeke Yeager walks through the door, followed by Pieck. You’re disappointed, but you keep waiting, watching the door that’s slowly swinging closed. Just when you bite the inside of your cheek, and prepare to turn your attention back to Claire, it’s pushed open again.

Porco.

You don’t know how he immediately knows to look in your direction, but he does; and you have to clasp your own wrist in your lap to stop yourself from waving at him. He doesn’t acknowledge you— he doesn’t even smile— but his gaze keeps coming back to linger on you as he makes his way across the room. He sits with the other two Warriors. The bench faces you; but it’s on the opposite side of the room— the unofficial Eldian side.

(You wonder if you had sat closer to that invisible wall, if you could have found some cracks to whisper to him through.)

“Do you think I should ask the caterers for crab cakes after all?” Claire asks.

“I like them,” you reply.

Porco’s resting his face on his palm, elbow on the table. He’s turned towards the other two, but you think you can see him stealing sideways glances at you, over his fingers. You swallow and shift your eyes away. You can’t stare. Not this openly, not here.

“I’m getting the blue dresses for the bridesmaids, I think. It’ll be great for a summer wedding.”

“Blue is lovely,” you say, a hand over your face to cover your smile.

You fake interest in Claire's notebook, and slowly raise your eyes to look over her shoulder. Porco is talking to Pieck now, attention away from you. You take the opportunity to really look at him. You feel like you could do that for hours; brushing your fingers through his longer blonde strands, running your thumbs over his face, memorising every detail.

(How cruel that you have to wait, when he’s right there in front of you, and you already know you’re condemned to spend more time apart than together.)

“Do you want to come clothes shopping with me on Thursday?”

“I’d love to.”

Porco makes eye contact with you again. You think you must be going insane; because even that little quirk of his mouth, the biggest reaction he can afford, envelopes with you a warmth that blossoms from your heart and goes to the very tips of your fingers. You’ve never felt this kind of happiness before. So pure, and so unreasonable.

(For now, it’s enough to endure the sorrow of having to pretend you don’t adore him— of having even the breadth of this room between you.)

Claire is putting away her notebook. “You haven’t touched your food! Are you sure you aren’t sick?”

You scoop up the maybe-potatoes. “I’m just a little distracted.”

Lunch passes much too quickly after that, as you finish your meal; stealing glances across the room the whole time. All too soon, you’re getting up and following Claire towards the door. It takes an immense effort to not look towards Porco’s table as you cross it.

The chilly breeze is still blowing, but the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds now. It’s one of those early autumn days that just can’t decide if it wants to be warm or cold.

“Do you mind hanging back for five minutes while I go to the bathroom?” Claire asks.

You agree to wait, and go to stand behind a pillar to protect yourself from the wind blowing through the open corridor; while she hurries down to the bathrooms. You notice a poster crudely pasted on the concrete, its edges lumpy and shrivelled from the paste. It’s a notice for a new weekly charity clinic in the internment zone, sponsored by the military hospital; asking Eldian soldiers to let their families know.

Interesting, you think. I wonder if Director Klein is behind it.

You’re perusing the poster, trying to figure out how you can volunteer, when you suddenly feel the weight of an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You tense up, about to shout in surprise— and then Porco’s voice is whispering in your ear.

“You look nice today.”

The cry catches in your throat. His warm breath— the ghost of that whisper— lingers against your ear. His body brushes against yours, familiar enough to make you blush. Something is slipped into your hand.

And then, in the same second, the weight disappears— and you see him casually continuing down the corridor.

(Did he just…?)

Your heart is pounding. You clutch your cardigan around your body, and whip your head all around to check if anyone saw.

There’s not a soul.

(He didn’t even let me see his face, you think, giddy.)

You look down at the thing he’d pressed into your hand. A small sheet of paper, messily torn and folded in half. A note.

‘I want to see you,’ it reads, in a hasty print. ‘Meet me in the usual place whenever you come back. Even if it’s late. I’ll be waiting for you.’

You hold the note against your chest, willing your heart rate to go down before Claire comes back.

It doesn’t feel as cold anymore.

The night before Marcel left for Paradis, he’d shaken Porco awake, and they’d slipped out of the house.

They’d squeezed themselves through the gap in the wired fence— there was no need to, not with the red sashes that now encircled their arms, but it had made the whole thing a lot more exciting— and made their way past the edge of the city and into the first of the rolling fields on its outskirts.

The grass had been damp, and the crickets had been loud. The stars had stretched out above them, twinkling in a sky so filled and endless that for once, Porco hadn’t felt caged.

That’s the kind of sky he sees right now, through the branches of the elm.

It’s almost midnight. The moon is high and full.

He’s worried— not because he thinks you won’t come (the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind), but because it’s late, and because it’s cold. He’s leaning against the tree, making sure to stay in the shadows; as he tries to picture the route back from the hospital.

The road is well lit, he tells himself. She’ll be safe.

He sighs, wishing he could come pick you up from your work.

(Did you wish that too? He wonders if you ever felt envious of the other nurse, who he’s seen meeting the PSA agent at the gates more than once.)

The crack of a dried leaf pierces through the night. It's the sound of something trying to be quiet. Porco flattens himself against the tree and cautiously turns his head to look around, heart rate kicking up.

It's just a cat, padding into the moonlight.

It spends a few moments sniffing around, before suddenly darting away across the grounds and into the darkness, chasing something only it can see.

Porco relaxes again, and turns his eyes back towards the stars.

On nights like this, when the wind carries the scent of damp earth from somewhere far away, it pulls him back through the years and right into that field.

Marcel had done most of the talking. It hadn’t been because Porco didn’t have anything to tell him. No, he’d had too much. So much that it all got tangled up and stuck in his throat, a big ball of questions and hopes and anxieties that he’d been too young and too embarrassed to whittle down to the one thing he really needed to say.

I’ll miss you, come home soon.

Marcel had filled the silence by pointing out constellations, and telling Porco the stories he'd read about them. It wasn't the kind of thing either of them ever talked about— there hadn't been much time for fairytales after they entered the Warrior program— but they'd made Marcel learn how to navigate by the stars to prepare for his mission; and he claimed it helped him remember everything.

“The way I see it,” he'd said, suddenly roughly pulling Porco into a headlock and mussing up his hair, “we're going to be looking at the same sky. So I won't be that far away, not really.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Porco had scoffed, scrabbling at his brother's arm, “That's so sappy. I'm gonna throw up.”

Nearly ten years on, he remembers the waver in his brother's voice, and now figures Marcel had been saying that for his own benefit as much as for Porco’s. He thinks Marcel may just have been a boy who liked stories.

Ten years on, that field has a factory on it, belching smoke into the sky and vomiting muddied water into the grass.

(He can't ever go back, but Porco always did think those old stories were pretty depressing anyway. The wisdom of the ancestors seemed to amount to ‘if you step out of line, you will die horribly, and all of it will be your fault’.)

Porco takes a deep breath. It’s cold enough to sting.

And then, he hears your voice calling for him; so soft it’s almost a whisper.

“Porco? Are you here?”

He steps out from under the shadow of the elm, heart pounding with anticipation, and sees you under the moonlight. You’re searching for him, clinging to the strap of your bag; and turning all around, taking faltering, circling steps.

Then you see him, and stop.

Porco thinks that joyous smile on your face is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so enamoured by it, he forgets to move his feet, and you reach him first.

“I’m late,” you say, still whispering. You’re standing barely an inch away.

It’s still too far. “That’s okay, I just got here,” Porco lies. You’re worth waiting for.

He pulls you by the arm, into the shadows with him; and gently pushes you back against the tree, one hand cradling the back of your head. He can barely see your face, but it's enough.

(For now, it’s enough.)

There's no words; only the sound of slow breaths as you gaze up at him. You let your bag slide down to the ground. It lands with a muffled thump. Time slows down as your eyes wander across his face, finally settling on his lips. Your hands come to his shoulders. Porco’s free arm snakes around your waist.

This is where you’re supposed to be, he thinks as he leans down. Right here, with me.

It’s been too damn long.

He missed how warm your lips are. He missed how your hands clutch at his jacket, how they trail up the sides of his jaw; and further up into his hair. It's a little different today, though— your fingers are surprisingly open and free, without inhibition, when they’re tugging at it. They’re telling him that you like this, you like this.

He knows, because he feels you kissing him back just as fervently, pressing your chest up against him; heat radiating from—

Ah, fuck. Porco reluctantly straightens up.

(He needs to control himself. He can’t let himself go too far, too quickly.)

“We should— we should go inside,” he manages to say, blood still rushing in his ears. His breath mists in the cold air.

(He has to do this right.)

“I— yes. We should. Inside.” You sound dazed. It’s almost enough to make him lose his resolve.

Porco leads you by the hand, making sure your path hugs the shadows around the building as much as possible. At the door, he waits as you fish the keyring out of your coat pocket, and fumble with the small padlock.

Once you’re both inside— the door locked behind you— he has an idea.

“How about we go upstairs?”

You pause, then nod. So he takes your hand again— so addictively soft, and smaller than his— and leads you past the clinic, and through the narrower door that opens into a cramped stairwell. It’s windowless, and completely dark.

Porco wraps an arm around your waist, and firmly grips the bannister with the other. He tells you to be careful. The polished wooden stairs creak as he climbs up one flight, and then another with you; moving his feet cautiously into the darkness, more sweeps than steps.

(He feels every breath you take, and wishes he could always keep you this close.)

After a while, the bannister stops abruptly. He feels around blindly in the dark, keeping you pulled snug against him. There’s a door handle. He gives it a turn. Locked.

He uses his fingertips to trace along it, and finds the indent at its base.

“Get your keys.” He instinctively keeps his voice low.

He hears the keys on the ring jingling in the dark. “I think I have the right one,” you say; quiet but excited.

Porco guides your hand to the lock. He hears you taking three tries to push the key in, and then the bolts sliding back.

The door opens, into a room that’s almost big enough to be a hall. Moonlight washes it with a faint glow, incredibly bright after the pitch dark of the stairwell; bright enough to see the dust motes in the air. The wallpaper is peeling. Cardboard boxes are piled waist-high all around, some of their bottoms torn and the files inside them spilling out. What look like old, rusted bed frames are pushed against the farthest wall.

It resembles the older wards at the hospital, with nice, tall windows all along the outside walls. Framed inside the tallest, widest window at the end of the room— behind a simple iron grill— are the elm branches. The moon peeks through the leaves.

The place is old, abandoned, and dusty.

Porco finally feels at peace.

“Oh, it’s so much prettier at night,” you breathe. “Where can we sit?”

Porco hums, and picks his way through the maze of boxes with you, finally finding a relatively clear spot on the floor right in front of the large window. It’s a little chilly to be sitting on the bare wood, but when you hug his arm and curl into his side, it doesn’t feel all that bad anymore.

“I… brought us something,” you tell him, a little hesitantly. You’ve let your coat open, and the white of your blouse glows in the moonlight.

“Actual chocolate?” he asks with a chuckle.

You laugh. He’s missed the sound. “No. I wanted to get us something sweet, but all the shops were closed because it’s so late.” You pull your bag into your lap; and after digging around for a moment, take out a bottle. “This was all I could find.”

“Is that wine?” Porco asks, an eyebrow raised.

“You’re always doing things for me,” you say, sounding like you really want him to understand something, but he’s not sure what. “And I just let you. I— ” You stop, and bite your lip. “Do you like it?”

Porco grins at you. He’s more of a hard liquor kind of guy, but somehow, whiskey doesn’t seem half as appealing right now. “Of course I do. Pour me some?”

You look pleased with yourself . “I can go get glasses from the clinic.”

Porco doesn’t like the idea of you stumbling around in that dark stairwell. “No. We’re drinking straight from the bottle.”

“Exciting!”

(That surprises him. He thought you'd be a little more flustered about it. He'd been hoping for it, in fact. He thinks it’s adorable.)

The key ring jingles again as you twist one of the keys into the cork, and struggle with it for a few seconds. Porco’s about to offer to help, when it comes out with a pop. A few drops spill on your coat. The small stains look like ink under the moon.

(Where did you learn how to do that?)

“Oh, I hope that comes out okay,” you say worriedly. You tilt your head back and swallow a mouthful of wine, then hold it out towards him. “Here. It’s good.”

Porco accepts the bottle but doesn't drink. He leans back a little, resting on his palm. “You seem a little… different.”

In the dark, he can just make out the anxious look in your eyes. “...Good different?” you ask.

He considers it. What was it really, that felt different? The way you’d kissed him. How you matched him step for step in the stairwell earlier, when he thought you’d be scared, and now this wine…

You seemed surer of yourself, Porco realises.

“Yeah, good different,” he tells you with a grin. He takes a swig of wine. It’s plenty sweet. “What changed?”

A little of that shyness he likes so much comes back; and you can't meet his eyes, even in the moonlight, for your next words. “Maybe you're good for me.”

(He may be good for you, he thinks; but you’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to him.)

Porco kisses you, once, twice, and then once more because he can’t help himself; tasting the wine on your lips each time. “Can I ask you something? Why did they send you here?” How did I get so lucky?

It’s a lighthearted question, but something shifts. You tense a little, enough for him to notice.

“You don’t have to talk about—” he starts.

You sigh. “No, I want to tell you. I have, for a while.”

And then you tell him, all about a little Eldian girl named Julie, who had been in a terrible accident— a train derailment— with over a hundred others. You tell him how she’d had a piece of iron impaled straight through her stomach, and how she had been crying without making a sound, waiting all alone— abandoned in a hallway like a discarded doll— for someone to help her, while her blood continued to stain the carpet. That you’d finally convinced a doctor to attend to her, and how he’d floundered in the middle of it; after they brought in a Marleyan boy.

“He left me—” you swallow thickly, and take a few deep breaths. “He left me and Eileen with Julie, and I had— I had my hand inside her, to put pressure on it, to stop the bleeding—”

(He thinks you drink a little more of the wine than you should while you’re talking; but even though your lip wobbles and you choke more than once— a knife twists in his heart each time— the tears stay glistening in your eyes and don’t drop.)

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “You don’t have to finish.”

You shake your head. “The boy was dead already. I don’t know if they messed up at intake, or if he died on the way to the ward, but he was dead. Crush injuries. But Dr. Klein didn’t want the paperwork to look like he gave up on him to work on an Eldian girl.”

Porco doesn’t comment, though he has lots of choice words for this Dr. Klein lining up on his tongue. He just comfortingly rubs your arm.

“I yelled at him to stop being ridiculous, trying to revive a dead body. And it wasn’t— I didn’t make a mistake, I know it. He was right next to me, I could see—” You stop abruptly, and then continue after a moment. “I eventually got him to come back. But the little boy’s mother wanted someone to blame, and she got it in her head that he didn’t get the help he needed because of me. Dr. Klein, Eileen… none of them backed me up.”

“Do you regret doing it?” Porco asks, gently.

“No!” you cry, snapping your face up to look at him. “I just— I don’t know if I made a difference.”

“It must have made a difference to her.”

You shake your head again. “Julie died anyway. She was too far gone. And I don’t know if Dr. Klein was right to stop trying.”

Porco pulls you into his lap without warning. You squeak in surprise, but he doesn’t let you move, holding you tight against him.

“It made a difference to her,” he repeats. “Don’t you dare think otherwise.” He feels your hand braced against his chest, how the shaky breaths against his collarbone begin to slow.

“Thank you, Porco,” you say after a minute, and he thinks you may be crying now; but he knows you’ll be alright. He hears it in your voice.

Porco kisses the top of your head. “It’s the truth.”

For a minute, it’s silent.

Then you speak again. “I think you were loved a lot.”

He raises his eyebrows. Several faces flash through his head. “Look, I don’t know what you heard, but—”

“Not like that!” you say with a laugh. “I mean growing up. Your family must have loved you so much, because…” Your voice grows softer “...because you’re so good at showing affection. You must have learned from them.”

Porco feels his face heating up. “It’s not anything special—”

“It is,” you insist, as you curl into him a little more comfortably. “You’re good at it.”

Porco holds you tighter, feeling the warmth of your body, and the calming way your chest rises and falls with each breath. Your comment stays in his head as the conversation continues, even when your breathing slows and you start slurring your words.

(He can tell you’re falling asleep. He wonders if he should walk you back down so you can get to your room, and a real bed; but then you reach for his hand, and he decides an hour or two like this wouldn’t hurt.)

Was he loved? He thinks he was. He thinks of his mother, who made sure he never felt alone or insecure, after his father was gone. Who was always there to hug and kiss him, and tuck him into bed; no matter how tired she was. Who pretended she had already eaten, when there wasn’t enough food left in the pantry for three portions. Who now pretends she isn’t worried to death about him every time they send him to the edges of the empire.

He thinks of Marcel. Porco knows he was reckless— is reckless— and that Marcel had often been the only thing standing between him and his teeth getting knocked out. How the only thing he ever wanted in return was to ruffle his hair up a little bit. He knows he only learned how to get along with children, because Marcel had figured out how to get along with him first.

Porco wishes he could introduce you to Marcel. He thinks you would have liked him.

He thinks Marcel would have liked you too.

You wonder if the salesclerk— was that even what you were supposed to call her? It didn’t feel right— has sore cheeks from smiling so much. The slope of her lips hasn’t shifted even a little from when you walked into the boutique about an hour ago. It’s still perfect— formal, yet welcoming.

The older woman instructs the girl modelling a red dress to spin and show off the flare. She’s on a little round platform. It’s disturbingly reminiscent of a music box with a ballerina.

On the opposite sofa, Claire frowns. “I don’t know… do you have one that’s more coquelicot than rose?”

“Don’t force yourself to like it, Claire,” Sophie says, sipping on her champagne. “I know the embroidery is pretty, but it’s not worth it. The rolled hem won’t hold up with that fabric.” She addresses the woman. “Do you have something similar with a blind hem?”

Hannah pinches your blouse and pulls you closer to her, a little clumsily. Her drink tips dangerously as she leans over the cushion to whisper in your ear.

“What’s the difference?” she hisses. “And what in the world is coquelicot?”

“I don’t know,” you hiss back. “Isn’t that your fourth glass already?”

“Is it? They’re free though, it’s okay.”

Hannah has certainly adapted to this place better than you have.

You knew Claire was rich, but you didn’t know she was this rich. When she’d invited you to come clothes shopping with her, you hadn’t exactly expected her to patronise the night markets; but this was one of the most expensive boutiques in Liberio. The kind of place where you didn’t have to do anything for yourself, not even trying the clothes on.

It must look even more beautiful in the daytime, you think.

Everything is detailed. There’s luxurious gold trimming (real gold) on the creamy white walls. An ornate crystal chandelier lights up the cosy space, along with half a dozen lamps that have lacey shades. The legs on every table and side table are made of a delicately twisted iron, meant to resemble vines. Rolls of the most beautifully printed and embroidered fabrics you’ve ever seen are draped over them.

It should have felt cluttered, but somehow it’s all so tasteful it just looks intimidatingly expensive.

Even the sofa you’re sitting on— the cushions are a muted mint, incredibly soft, and its blue-green throw pillows are embroidered with red roses and pink peonies. The threads are so thin and delicate, you’re afraid to rest your weight against them.

Hannah doesn’t seem to mind though. She sits comfortably, with her ankles crossed, smiling pleasantly (and a touch too widely, unlike the salesclerk— or perhaps the ‘manager’ would be a better word?) as she looks around the room.

“Claire!” she says suddenly. “Look at that green silk. I think that would look so nice on you.”

Claire looks where she’s pointing and nods. “Show me what you have in that fabric, please.”

“Gladly, Madame.” The salesclerk— manager, proprietress?— claps her hands, and the ballerina hops off her platform. They both glide to the back of the shop. You see Ballerina undoing her buttons on the way.

Hannah stands up abruptly, and sways in place.

Claire raises an eyebrow at you. You mouth a four, pointing at your own champagne flute, and she stifles a laugh.

“Maybe you should sit down, Han.” Sophie suggests, eyebrow raised. “Or at least put the glass away. You’re going to spill it.”

You’ve known Hannah since your time at the hospital, and you spend most of your time with Claire. One is the opposite of secretive, and the other is far too poised to ever need to hide anything. Sophie is still a mystery to you.

Sophie has only ever spoken to you once— on the train back from the Mid-East— and you’ve seen her a handful of times while you were there. She’s always looked more like a strict school teacher to you than a nurse, with her half rimmed glasses and her black hair usually pulled into a tight bun.

Hannah looks at the glass in her hands, a thoughtful expression on her face. Then she raises it to her lips, and drinks the whole thing in a single breath.

“No spills,” she says, holding the glass upside-down with a flourish.

Claire laughs out loud, while Sophie sighs. Hannah does a little bow.

You can’t help laughing too. Even aside from Hannah never failing to raise everyone’s spirits, you’re already in a good mood.

(You feel well rested for the first time in days.)

Hannah plops back down next to you. “Claire, didn’t you say you wanted to tell us something earlier?”

Claire suddenly looks very serious. “I did.” She runs a finger around the edge of her glass, and then takes a deep breath. “I’m resigning.”

“You are? When?” you ask, dismayed.

“You’re leaving?” Hannah cries.

Sophie just looks annoyed. “You’re quitting your job? Claire, no matter how nice he is—”

Claire waves her hands to shush everyone. “I’m not quitting being a nurse. And I’m not leaving Liberio. I applied to the new private hospital.” She takes a sip of her drink. “It only makes sense. It’s closer to where the apartment is, and the pay is better.”

(You’re surprised to see Claire looking a little sad, about something that made sense.)

“And,” she says, looking at you. “They’re still doing the interiors, so I won’t be gone for a while. I just wanted to give everyone a heads up.”

Sophie leans back, satisfied. “The private sector pay is great. I’m much happier out of the military. Don’t have goddamn sergeants thinking they can yell at me.”

“Oh, no one yells at Claire,” you say without thinking; your tongue loosened by the alcohol, and by how touched you are at her reassuring you. “They’re all too scared.”

Sophie peers at you over her lenses. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… how are you so pleasant?”

You feel your face warming. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so nice. Everyone gets a little jaded after seeing the frontlines, but look at you.”

“It's because she didn't see much of it,” Claire says. “She was only there for the last couple of months.”

The Warrior Unit was supposed to be a temporary assignment. Just somewhere the board decided to stash you, out of the public eye; until the whole business with Julie had been sorted. You weren’t really part of the unit, not back then.

And so you’d been left behind while the rest of them were sent to the Mid East. But you never did apologise— Director Klein ended up having no choice but to sign off on your formal transfer.

(It had happened almost overnight. It led to Claire finding you standing awkwardly at the entrance of the tent; wearing boots that had been issued last-minute, and at least one size too big. They’d made you feel even more like a child, far out of your depth.)

Sophie adjusts her glasses. “You haven’t even seen titans?”

“No.”

“Hope it stays that way.”

“This wasn't like Helena, Soph,” Claire adds, “The Warriors steamroll over everything. And it all happens so far away, relatively speaking.”

Hannah claps her hands. “This isn’t a fun topic! Claire, congratulations on the new job.”

Sophie shakes her head, as if to clear it, and nods. “Congratulations. Maybe I’ll apply too.”

“Oh!” Hannah suddenly sits bolt upright. “And maybe I’ll apply to the Warrior Unit!”

Sophie smiles wryly. “I thought your plan was having a rich patient fall in love with you. Not a lot of eligible bachelors over there.”

“No, but she’s over there.” Hannah gives you a one armed hug. From her, it’s as warm and comforting as a bear hug from most others. (Even if her drunkenness has her clumsily punching your arm on the first try.) “What’s so great about guys anyway? I don’t have half as much fun as I do with you three. Claire, is Eric fun?”

“Not as much as you,” she replies, with a barely straight face.

Porco's pretty fun, you think. He always makes me laugh.

But there's a tinge of melancholy to the thought.

Claire was leaving. She would leave, and one day she’d go so far— Odiha, or maybe even further— and you wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. They all would. And then Porco would too.

And then no one would know.

No one would know that he’s more than fun. They wouldn’t know how he’s been kinder to you than anyone else in your entire life. They wouldn't know that he makes you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.

No one would know how he made you feel wanted.

They wouldn’t know, because even though it’s safest when it feels like you’re the only two people in the world, it meant that world would disappear with him.

“You look like you finally got a good night of sleep,” Claire comments.

Your heart starts to race, though you’re not sure exactly why. “Oh, yes. I slept well last night.”

(No one knows.)

The first thing that makes Colt think something is up, is when Porco spends the whole night chewing with his mouth closed.

The second, is his reaction to Olivia telling him— very suggestively— as she pours him yet another glass of whiskey, that her shift would be over in another hour.

“Yeah? It’s still pretty early, but be careful on your way home,” Porco says.

Colt chokes on his drink.

Zeke snorts.

Pieck’s eyes go wide.

A stream of beer dribbles out the corner of Reiner’s mouth.

The bar is busy, and loud. There’s a table celebrating a birthday, and the residents of the internment zone were never ones to let an excuse to celebrate pass them by. You had to take the happy times when you could, even if they were borrowed from someone else. Cheers periodically erupt from near the dartboard. It’s difficult to see through the crowd surrounding it, but Colt’s fairly sure the birthday boy has taken it off the wall, and added an extra challenge to the whole thing by moving it wildly around.

He’d been meaning to go join in, when Porco Galliard turned down a hookup. Colt has only just started getting buzzed, but the shock of it almost sobers him.

Olivia, with her attractive red lip, and long dark hair that could only be described as tresses, was reminiscent of the princesses from Falco’s old books; if those princesses knew how to make the best drinks in Liberio, and seemed to have an aversion to buttoning the top half of their blouses.

In short, it was not the response of a rational man; especially one with Porco’s habits.

Pieck claps him on the shoulders. “Porco! You shouldn’t have come out if you were feeling ill! Here, drink my water.”

Porco looks bewildered. “Feeling ill—”

Reiner wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and sighs. “I hope you don’t throw up in our room. Pace yourself, for god’s sake.”

“Why would I—”

Colt gently takes the still full glass of whiskey out of his hand. “You know there’s no need to try and keep up with me, right? I would never think less of—”

Porco snatches it back. “What the fuck are all of you talking about?”

Olivia, to her credit, seemed to be taking it in stride. She leans forward, elbows on the counter. Colt idly wonders if the buttons had actually popped off at some point. Or maybe it was more comfortable for her like that. It did seem too small. He doesn’t think he should ask.

“It sounds like they’re concerned about you not coming home with me, champ,” she says with a playful grin. “Is it something I said or did… the last couple dozen times?”

“Helos,” Porco mutters. “I’m fucking fine. I don’t mean to insult you, Liv. I just want to drink and go to bed today.”

Zeke conspicuously sets down his glass, and takes a puff of his cigarette; which usually meant he would be spouting some sage wisdom. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later, Galliard.”

Porco rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t interrupt. It never works. Colt would know.

"You're still in the sweet spot right now," Zeke continues, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the already hazy air of the bar. "Where they don't see a dead man, only some fun with a guarantee of no strings attached. No offense, Miss Olivia.”

“None taken. He’s very fun.”

“That makes him sound selfish,” Pieck comments. “Pock here’s quite sensitive, actually.” The way she says it, it’s somehow genuine and teasing at the same time.

Zeke waves the lit cigarette around as he speaks. It flits through the smoke like a boozey firefly. (Colt’s aware the metaphor is absurd, but the alcohol is starting to hit him. People said he never knew when it did, but look. He did.)

Porco slams back his drink. Colt winces. That was most definitely a sipping whisky.

“Fuck you guys,” Porco says, voice hoarse. “I need to take a leak.” He shoves himself backwards, the bar stool screeching, and then stalks off in the direction of the bathrooms.

Colt trades a look with Pieck.

(Really, he wanted to exchange a look with everyone to see what they thought of that, but she was the only one who looked back.)

“I don’t know what’s up with him,” she says. “He’s starting to worry me though, to be honest.”

Colt finishes his drink in another two gulps. He was the only one who could help Porco now. Pieck couldn’t go into the men’s bathrooms.

And so he goes after him.

He finds Porco not inside the bathroom, but in the hallway outside of it, where the noise of the bar is contained behind a stout wooden door.

(So he didn’t have to piss, Colt thinks. Maybe that’s important.)

“Galliard.”

Porco, who was moodily staring at his own boots, snaps his head up in disbelief. “Leave me alone. I’m not horny all the time, fucking sue me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Colt asks.

“Lots of things. Want a list?”

Before he can chide him for the sarcasm, Colt trips on his own feet, and stumbles rather than walks the last few steps. He ends up leaning heavily on Porco’s shoulders, trying to regain his balance.

For all his flaws, Porco doesn’t try to push him away. “Are you drunk already? We haven’t even been here for an hour.”

Colt raises his head. He can find his balance later. “Galliard,” he says, looking him straight in the eyes, so he knows Colt is serious, “you know you can trust me, right?”

Porco’s throat bobs. “Yeah, man,” he says, voice thick. “I trust you.”

There’s no easy way to ask this. Turning down Olivia, the hurrying away after showers— it could only mean one thing, from him.

Colt takes a deep breath. “Galliard, after your injury. I know the nurses treated you—” He feels Porco tense under his hands. “— and it’s difficult to even think about, but—”

Porco isn’t breathing. He stares at Colt, eyes wide.

“—but did your dick grow back wrong?”

There’s silence, punctuated by uproarious laughter from the bar.

And then, Colt’s on the floor.

Porco pushed him.

“Motherfucking hell, piece of fucking shit—”

He’s swearing up a storm, but really, Colt doesn’t mind. It’s not directed at him. It’s just how Porco deals with his emotions, sometimes. It stopped bothering him after the first five years. (As long as Falco's not around.)

“Well something’s bothering you,” he insists from the floor. It's disturbingly sticky as he pushes himself up. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we came back from the Mid East.”

“Give it a rest—”

“You’re even broodier than usual. Is Mrs. Galliard okay?”

Porco drags a hand over his face. “Ma’s fine, Grice. Thank you for the concern.”

And then, Colt remembers something that’s been bothering him for a while now. “And then you asked that nurse to come with us to the park—” Suddenly, it all clicks into place.

The dawning realisation must be obvious on his face, because Porco’s has gone white. He can tell, even in the dim lighting. “Grice—”

“You’ve got a crush on her.”

Porco’s making a really weird expression now. If Colt didn’t know better, if he didn’t know how the alcohol made him overly dramatic, he’d think Porco was about to cry.

“... and what would you say if I did?” His voice is hoarse again.

Colt thinks about it. “That it’s understandable. She saved your life.”

Relief blooms across Porco’s face. The pinch between his eyebrows disappears. “Then—”

“But that you’re—” Colt pauses to hiccup. “— being really stupid by indulging in it like that. Quit it before—” Another hiccup. “— she figures it out.”

Porco pushes him aside, and starts to head back to the bar. Colt can’t see his face, so it’s difficult to decipher his tone, but the words are oddly clipped back. Like he’s forcing each one out. “Wow, Grice. I thought you’d be the blindly supportive type.”

Colt’s confused. “I thought you didn't like fairy tales.”

Sylvie’s cooking smells heavenly.

(It always has, right from when Theo was a kid, and she was making magic out of a can of peas.)

Theo cautiously peeks in through the kitchen window. He can see the table set for two places. One’s for her, of course. But that other one…

Was Porco home?

“I can hear you crunching through the leaves from here, Theo,” she calls, not looking up from the pot she’s stirring. “Come in. The plate’s for you.”

And so Theo meekly makes his way to the front door, and slinks in like a particularly dirty stray cat that the family has taken upon itself to feed. Confident, but ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. He makes sure to wipe his shoes on the mat— he’s pretty sure Sylvie’s hospitality would reach its limit if he got mud on her nice carpet.

He takes a seat at the table. It wasn’t too long ago, he thinks with some sadness, how he had to drag in a chair from the living room to sit at this table. Back when all four dining chairs had been spoken for.

“Porco came by already tonight. Said they were going out to the bar, if you want to avoid it.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I know his liver will be fine, but as a mother…” She takes a deep breath, and keeps stirring her pot.

“Oh,” Theo says.

Sylvie had given him more second chances than he could count. It’s why he believes Evie every time she calls him selfish.

(It’s why Wolfe fell in love with her, he thinks. That endless forgiveness, when he knew better than anyone how much Theo didn’t deserve it. He would have given Theo those chances too, though; if he’d survived that first one.)

Sylvie turns off her stove, and carefully walks the pot over to the table. Theo tears himself a chunk off bread off the loaf on the table. She ladles stew onto his plate, humming all the while.

“You’re in a good mood,” Theo comments. It’s nice to see Sylvie like this. She’s usually so worried about her son.

Sylvie waves off the comment as she sits down. “Oh, it’s just that Porco seemed so happy today.”

“Yeah? Something good happen?”

“I wouldn’t know, he didn’t tell me a thing. He said he was just here to make sure you had cleared out.”

Theo blanches. “And what did you tell him?”

“That it wasn’t his business who stayed in my house,” Sylvia scoffs. “Well really, I told him I’d take care of it. He took it how he liked.” She leans toward him. “But he seemed too happy to care either way,” she says conspiratorially.

“The kid does wear his heart on his sleeve,” Theo agrees.

(Porco always had. Right from when he was in diapers, wrinkling his nose at Theo’s off-key singing. In Porco’s defence, there were actual stray cats who could caterwaul more melodiously.)

“Oh, I love him too much for him to be able to hide it anyway.” She smiles to herself as she reaches for the bread. “That’s the thing about love. Everything shows.”

Theo rolls his eyes. “That’s so sappy, I’m going to throw up.”

Eric clears the side of his desk for Claire as she sets her shopping bags down and rests her hip on its edge. He allows himself a moment to admire the ring glinting on his finger. That had been a good choice.

The office is on the night shift. Claire’s not strictly supposed to be here right now, but most people are sleeping at their desks and weren’t awake to report it. It’s one of the few public buildings that got electric bulbs put in this year, and Eric is slightly displeased that they generate enough heat that he needs to take off his sweater vest. It’s one of his favourite parts of autumn, and now it’s been delayed.

“... and then when we went to look at perfumes, she picked out this honeysuckle one. It was too sweet for me, but she’s cute enough to pull it off.”

“I think you’re sweet,” he attempts.

Claire swats him on the shoulder, but he can see she’s smiling. “That’s not the point! The point is, you should have seen her face. She was definitely thinking about someone. I’m not about to pry though.”

Eric hums. It’s not in disinterest. He’s just trying to make sure he’s filing everything away correctly. He’s still got a headache from Chief Gerard yelling at that poor secretary this afternoon for misplacing documents. The poor girl had been swearing someone had messed with them, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Are you still working on that missing persons case?” Claire asks.

Eric frowns. “Technically, I am. But it isn’t going anywhere, so the Chief assigned me to something else.”

“Oh?”

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’m temporarily partnering with Detective Rolland.” He discreetly rolls his eyes towards the man sitting on the other side of the room.

Rolland is a psychopath. Eric knows this. Chief Gerard knows this. Everyone knows this. But the man had a knack for closing cases. Criminals all but lined up to confess. The Chief didn’t let him investigate alone anymore, though. There needed to be someone making sure his methods would hold up in court.

Eric thinks it just warps the younger detectives’ idea of what’s acceptable.

In fact, Eric wouldn’t put it past him to not care about the protocol around properly signing out files.

I should look into that, he thinks to himself, as he watches Thomas Rolland pull back his sleeve, to check the time on his large, gold-plated watch.

Hannah's getting a suspicious amount of character development, isn't she? 🤭 Please leave a like/reblog/reply if you enjoyed!

#porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #angst #fluff #my fic #snk precipice

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vainilla-milk · 1 year

Text

Flufftober Day 11 - About Us

pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem! Reader

tags: rivals to lovers, high school au

wordcount: 906

The first time you met Porco Galliard...

You hated him.

He was an arrogant and very annoying child, always wanting to be the center of attention and annoying those who didn't manage to stand out as much as he did.

However, Porco also had his opinions about you.

You were shrill, nosy and easily irritated.

The two of you just couldn't call a truce. Elementary school was a pretty chaotic time in your lives.

Still, time passes and brings with it a lot of changes. You and Porco lessened your interactions in high school, went from fighting over anything to simply being indifferent to each other's existence. But that indifference didn't manage to last with the onset of puberty.

Occasionally Porco would watch you, only when he was sure no one could catch him the moment he decided to fix his gaze on you. Each time he did so, the more aware he became of the changes that adolescence was having on you.

Likewise on your part, you had begun to discreetly observe Porco and notice how he had surpassed you in stature. His body had stopped being so thin, thanks to his involvement with sports and physical exercise. Sometimes it was simply too hard to ignore him, his presence not going unnoticed by you at all.

There was one occasion when Porco decided to observe you in the middle of class, once he had made sure that the teacher was just concentrating on reciting the information in the book he was holding. When he did, he was surprised to see you doing the same thing he was doing with you. You both quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up and turn a reddish color.

For the remainder of the class, the two of you kept discreetly watching each other out of the corner of your eyes, but once the class was over neither of you approached the other.

Not surprisingly, a question began to draw them both closer: How to get close to someone with whom you fought tirelessly some time ago.

The thing is that in this period of mutual uncertainty, tensions resurfaced again, eventually your arguments also returned.

There was an occasion when you met at a party during high school, both of you were already moderately influenced by alcohol. When you were in a room alone chaos came out of the shadows to rule.

Your argument exploded out of nowhere, you shouted everything you were thinking at each other and suddenly you were just kissing as if the world was going to end. The next morning you woke up together in bed, you were staring at the ceiling in silence not knowing how to converse what happened last night.

"So..." you heard, not having the courage to turn your head towards the owner of the voice.

"You weren't upset about last night?"

Porco swallowed nervously, he didn't have the courage to turn to look at you either. The ceiling had become a safe spot to look at. Your fidgeting hands clenched into a fist and you were trying to think about what you might respond to, it wasn't the ideal scenario you had thought about your approach to Porco, much less knowing how difficult it had been to deal with him after he caught you seeing him in class.

"I guess not" you reply almost in a whisper.

Porco finally turns his head towards you, consequently you looked at him as well and turned sideways to face him.

"I just didn't imagine it would happen like this" you confess to him avoiding his gaze as you blushed.

Porco's eyebrows rise in surprise and he shifts his position as well so that he can stand in front of you. There were several questions popping up in his mind.

"Imagine... kissing me?" he asks you uncertainly, his eyes unable to meet yours.

Your cheeks began to color and you nod slightly, you take a deep breath and speak again. "I think I like you"

Porco's eyes bore into you, he can feel the heat build up on his face. After letting out a sigh you settle back down to look at the ceiling contemplatively.

"If it bothered you to kiss me just say so" you snort.

Porco's heartbeat quickened from nerves and he quickly turns to look at you.

"It didn't bother me" he frowns at your gaze. "It's just that I think I like you too"

And he finally confesses it.

Your gazes hold firmly, Porco gently reaches for your hand and gives it a little squeeze before stroking your fingers with his thumb.

"Uhmm... Listen, why don't we better start over?"

"What do you mean?"

Porco stares for a few thoughtful seconds at the ceiling of the room, searching for the best way to answer you. "Putting the past behind us, I guess."

Your hand gives his a squeeze and you smile.

Porco returns the gesture and securely wraps his hand around yours.

"Do you have anything to do today in the afternoon?" he asks looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"Hmm... Nah, I don't think so, how about you?"

He answers you the same, his gaze lingering on you for a few more seconds.

"Interested in going out for a bite to eat later?" he mumbles, however you could hear him perfectly.

A smile forms on your face and you agree, intertwining your hand with his.

#porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #flufftober #flufftober 2022 #porco galliard fluff #aot imagines #porco galliard imagine #porco galliard headcanons #porco galliard x y/n #aot x female reader #aot x reader #porco x y/n #porco x you

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pieckerman · 27 days

Note

Hi there I saw you're writing for our best boi Porco, he's so underrated, can I ask for some cute fluff with him and Reader just having good time during festival? <3

PORCO GALLIARD X READER

cw: fluff , a bit angsty though , porco n reader at the liberio festival !!

a/n: sorry if this isnt exactly what you meant!! i got a bit carried away lol

Spending time with your boyfriend Porco was always a nice thing. It never really mattered what you were doing, as long as it was with him.

The times you get to see each other outside of warrior-related matters were rare, after all, both of you were busy people.

But, it had just made things all the more worth it when you could.

It was a nice change of pace to have something positive in your life, considering how rough things had been with everything going on.

This brings you to the present, where you walked side by side with your beloved, enjoying both the company and the scenery of the Liberio festival.

It was a sight to behold, with various food stands and live music, the atmosphere was something peaceful.

As the two of you continued to walk together, looking around at the stuff around you, your hand slowly slipped into his, your fingers intertwining together.

Usually, Porco wouldn’t be the most fond of PDA, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath, pretending that he didn’t care; but the faint blush on his cheeks was always evidence of how he really felt.

This time though, he simply glances at you and doesn't bother saying anything about it. You assume it’s because he’s having too much fun to pester you about it. You grin at the small win.

Eventually, you stumble upon something you want to purchase.

“Oh shit, they have PIZZA?” You exclaim, a smile spreading across your face.

Porco looks over at you, as you go to buy a slice.

However, as you go to grab your wallet out of your pocket..

You quickly realize. You forgot it.

You stand there awkwardly, until Porco grabs the cash out of his pocket, and hands it over to you.

You finish your purchase, taking a bite out of your food before you speak.

“Thank you! You know, you didn’t have to do that. I can pay you back if you need.”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon baby, don’t be like that. No need to pay me back”

You flush. “Are you sure? I-”

He promptly cuts you off and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I seriously don’t mind spending the money. It’s all worth it when I get to see that beautiful smile on your face.”

Fuck. Classic Porco. Always so smooth with everything he says.

You grab his hand again, and continue walking as you enjoy your food. Of course, you pass it over to your boyfriend at some point so he can have a bite too.

You both wander around for a while, stopping occasionally to buy something when either you notice something you want, or he notices something you’d want. He pays for you everytime with no hesitation.

As the day passes by, you make sure to commit these moments to memory.

When you get tired of walking, you and Porco find someplace to sit down together.

As you sit next to him, you stare at him and zone out a little.

You’ve really enjoyed today with him. Being with him like this, enjoying each others presence, it just makes you wish you could be around him all the time.

You sigh.

Porco immediately notices this, and concern paints his expression.

“You good princess? Everything okay with you?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking.”

“Breaking up with me already? Wowww… after all I’ve done for you?” Porco jokes.

The two of you chuckle softly, before things get quiet once again.

Porco's eyes meet yours before he breaks the silence. “Seriously though, what’s on your mind?”

You decide to tell him what you’re thinking about. “I just wish things were different sometimes.”

Porco's eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I just.. I just wish that we could settle down, Y’know?”

He sits wordless for a minute, pondering what you just said. It would be nice, wouldn’t it?

You go to rest your head on his shoulder, and his arm immediately wraps around you as if it was muscle memory. “If we were to hypothetically get married, what would we do together? What kind of wedding would we have?”

You reply. “I know you probably wouldn’t want a big wedding, so I’d be fine with a smaller one. As long as all of our friends are there, and you’re the one I'm getting married to.”

Porco smiles, barely noticeable. “I wouldn’t mind a big wedding, I’d just want to see my wife happy.”

You blush, one of your arms finding it’s way around him, nuzzling your face closer to his neck.

His wife? You close your eyes as you think about it, and it makes your heart ache. You sigh once again, trying not to think about the reality of things.

When you look up again, you take note of the setting sun. The day’s almost over, and you frown a little. You’ve had fun, and you really don’t want this moment to end.

Porco looks over at you, and you meet his gaze. You see his expression soften, as he looks your face up and down.

You get embarrassed, as you wonder what he could be thinking of. “Hey, what are you looking at?”

Porco softly laughs. “What, Am I not allowed to admire my beautiful girlfriend anymore?”

You look away, covering your face. You think about how he really does know you better than anyone else, whether it be the kinds of things you like or how to get you flustered. Man, he really does have you whipped.

You both look up at the sky, enjoying the view of the sunset.

“Not to be cheesy, but you know, sunsets have always reminded me of you.”

There he goes again

“How so?” You inquire.

“I dunno, it’s just…” He pauses, before he continues, his tone of voice remaining soft. “A lot of things remind me of you, and I can’t really explain why. Guess you’re just on my mind 24/7”

The two of you continue to talk, exchanging jokes and flirty comments. Any onlookers would be able to tell you were a happy couple.

Usually, Porco liked to keep his image up. His image of a tough, cold warrior. But as he does with most things, he’d make an exception for you, and only you.

Eventually, you two get up and walk around to pass the time until you need to do other things. The time goes by quickly, your hands shamelessly linked together, and you feel yourself fall in love with him a little more.

You hope things will stay like this forever.

#aot x reader #porco fluff #aot fluff #porco galliard x reader #porco x reader fluff #porco x reader #porco galliard

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 1 month

Note

How would the aot boys react to reader friend zoning them lol

friend-zoned

eren would act super cool and nonchalant about it but in reality, he’s going absolutely feral inside. he doesn’t understand why you’d reject him because he can get any girl he wishes. what’s so different about you? he becomes super clingy after this, trying to win you over.

armin would beat himself up internally. he’d feel really stupid, wondering why he couldn’t see the signs that you’re just friends. he sulks for a day or two but he gets past it because he isn’t willing to let your friendship go to waste.

jean doesn’t believe you when you tell him he’s nothing more than a friend. he insists that there’s been a romance blossoming and he doesn’t understand why you’re saying this when you clearly have feelings for him.

connie’s pretty disappointed but he doesn’t have a hard time letting it go. infact, he makes jokes about it all the time. he also pretends like he’s mortally wounded by it just to make you feel bad and whenever you apologize for it, he just laughs at you.

reiner takes it a little…personally. he has trouble with rejection already and you didn’t help by friend zoning him. he’s offended and stops talking to you for a while. he’s pretty stubborn but he comes around eventually and apologizes for making you feel like you owe him something.

bertholdt is sad but he understands that you can’t just magically change how you feel. additionally, his feelings never go away but he really does try to suppress them. he wishes you’d change your mind and he’s willing to wait if you ever do.

zeke is just fine with being friends. that’s what he says, anyway. he still makes moves on you, insisting that you guys can just ‘kiss as friends.’ it’s flattering but he comes on a little strong. eventually, you have to be firm with him and tell him to knock it off.

porco takes it to heart but he’s more angry than anything. he says you’ve been leading him on, teasing him, etc. you apologize if you made it seem that way but he doesn’t want to hear it. he just goes out and finds another girl in hopes of pissing you off enough to get him out of the friend zone.

erwin doesn’t understand the concept of a friend zone. he knows that it’s allegedly a bad spot to be put in but he thinks that if you’re truly a good friend to someone, the zone is a fine place to be. so, when you tell him you’re not into him like that, he understands and is just happy being your friend.

levi isn’t particularly satisfied with your answer but he doesn’t push it. he respects you and your feelings enough to not be a dick about it. however, he can be a little toxic. he’ll be your friend but he will scare your dates away. he doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. he’ll crawl out of that friend zone one way or another.

here’s the link to my jean fic that has a lot of connie and ymir time in it. oh it’s also a slow burn