Some Jean/Pieck pls! I’m obsessed! Also I’m a Porco/Pieck shipper so maybe past Porco/Pieck? Whatever inspires you. I’m just craving Jeanpiku after the new chapter
hhhh sorry this took so long ^^"
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I Just Wanted to Hold You
JeanPiku. Canonverse.
1074 words.
Read on Ao3!
Jean is washing the dishes when he feels someone hug him from behind. He already knows who it is without looking, but he turns his head to just catch a glimpse of her face. His smile is full of affection when he asks, “What’s this for?”
“Nothing,” Pieck says. She turns her face and buries it in his back. He can feel her breath through the fabric of his sweater. “I just wanted to hold you. I just wanted someone to lean against.”
Pieck is like this. She’s usually affectionate to begin with. Being with her means casual touches: reaching out to fix his hair even if she’s fixed it a dozen times this morning, walking over to wrap her arms around him if they’re within the same vicinity, leaning against him and putting her head on his shoulder if they’re standing next to each other. Jean doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone who’s been this physically affectionate, so it amuses him. He always likes to ask her why even though Pieck always replies that she doesn’t really have a reason.
There are also times when she does have a reason, but she doesn’t say it out loud. During those times, Pieck wears a frown instead of her usual smile. There’s a faraway look in her eyes and clings to Jean just a little more tightly. It’s times like these when Jean can feel her frown against his back, when she has a reason to hug him and hold him beyond “just wanting to.”
Jean sets his dishes down and pulls off his gloves. He pries off Pieck’s hand for only a second so that he can turn around and hug her back. Her head only comes up to his chest. Fondly, he strokes her black hair. “Do you miss him?” he asks her quietly. He doesn’t say his name out loud. He doesn’t have to.
“Yes,” Pieck replies, her arms wrapping around him even more tightly. Her voice sounds nothing more than a broken whisper. “I miss him so much.”
Maybe he should be jealous. Maybe he should pry Pieck away from him and ask her why she’s thinking of another man in her arms. Maybe he should tell her that she shouldn’t hold someone else in her heart when Jean is right here in front of her. But that would be cruel, and Jean is no stranger to loss himself.
Her hair feels so fine as he threads his fingers through it. “Tell me about him,” Jean tells Pieck, and he feels her lean into him even more.
Pieck takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. Silent tears soak Jean’s sweater, but they still stick to Pieck’s eyelashes even when she pulls away. She closes her eyes as he dabs at them with the sleeve of his sweater.
“He was very sweet. He didn’t look like it, but Porco was always sweet,” Pieck mumbles. The tip of her nose is red and her cheeks are flushed from crying. She turns her cheek and rests it against Jean’s chest. “He acted rough on the outside, but he could be so childish sometimes. It made him even sweeter.”
Jean hums, a hand patting Pieck on the back comfortingly as she tells him about Porco Galliard, the man she had loved and lost. Some days he hears the same things over and over. Other days, he learns something completely new about Porco that he had never known before. Jean had never had the chance to speak to Porco back when he was alive, but Pieck speaks so much about him that Jean feels like he did know the Jaw Titan if only a little bit.
“He liked it when I held him at night. He told me it made him feel safe,” Pieck says. “Holding him made me feel safe, too.”
Strangely, Jean doesn’t feel envious. He only wonders if Pieck feels the same kind of security when he holds her in his arms as she talks about her lost lover. If Jean can even give her the fraction of warmth and security that Pieck had felt with Porco, Jean would feel content. It feels too needy to ask her out loud, so Jean just rubs her back and lets her listen to the beat of his heart.
“I always think about him. I still miss him so much,” Pieck says outside. She doesn’t say anything after that, just times her breathing to Jean’s heartbeat. After a moment, she turns her head to look up at Jean and says, “That never bothers you. I talk about him so much, but you’re never bothered by it at all. I don’t mean to speak about him all the time, but it just happens. You never ask me to stop.”
Jean smiles and brushes a lock of hair away from Pieck’s eyes. “It doesn’t bother me. I don’t know why it should,” Jean says as he leans down to press a kiss on Pieck’s forehead. “It makes me happy that you freely tell me about someone you loved so much, that you still love so much. It amazes me how much love you hold for him even now.”
Pieck closes her eyes as Jean presses tender kisses to her cheeks. “I love you, too, you know,” she murmurs. Her grip on him has loosened. She leans against him, melting against him as he caresses her face and presses more kisses against her skin.
“I do, and there isn’t a day where I’m not grateful that you love me. The fact that you love me even after everything you’ve been through is something I’ll always be incredibly grateful for,” Jean tells her with a smile. “And how can I stop you from speaking of Porco, who you loved so much, when I’m grateful for him, too, because he loved you when I couldn’t.”
Pieck gazes up at him, eyes sparkling. For a second, she looks as if she might cry again, but she quickly buries her face in his chest once more and tightens her arms around him again. Her hold around him is so tight that Jean can hardly breathe, but he only laughs and pets the top of her head.
“What’s this for now?” Jean asks her.
“Nothing,” Pieck mumbles into his sweater. She doesn’t loosen her grip, and Jean smiles as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “I just wanted to hold you.”
Hi readers! Here is the #JeanPikuWeek2022 small fic/preview, as promised.
The full chapter for the associated long fic (Ink Strokes) will be ready to go for Ao3 on Sunday 6th March at 12pm UTC.
For now, I hope you enjoy it! 💫 Fic can be found under the cut, but please mind the details first...
Title: Comrades
Fanfic: Ink Strokes
Rating: Teen (Ink Strokes’ Rating is Mature)
Wordcount: Approx. 600 Words
Content Warnings: {Character Relationship: Pieck Finger/Jean Kirschtein} Depictions of post-traumatic stress disorder; specifically triggers, a flashback and the accompanying anxiety. Very minor allusion to gore.
******
“Over there!” The former scout called back to her, before breaking into a sprint and leaving the ex-warrior behind.
He wasn’t too worried. She had been selected to inherit a titan once upon a time, and one that was well-built for speedy scouting work at that.
She was clearly very aware of her surroundings and could definitely catch up to him without too much trouble, even while dressed formally.
He kept trying to fixate his thoughts on her and her location, if only to avoid the mounting dread within his own mind…
“Pieck, keep going, trust me!”
As he gave this next instruction, Jean looked all around to try and find a way past their incoming vandalised obstacle ahead of time.
Except, he was untimely stopped dead in his tracks… for he found himself slowing to a complete halt as he laid eyes on a bunch of static lines in the sky.
A sight that abruptly and unforgivingly flung him straight back to a time that he had never, ever wanted to return to.
As reality crumbled around him, so too did his balance as he dropped to his knees on the thatched terrain below.
His body had surrendered, as his tormented mind took him through an agonising playback of the very worst days of his life…
******
“Jean!?”
Her companion had dropped to his knees up ahead, while staring up into the still night sky.
What the hell was going on…?
Pieck hung back for a moment, ascertaining the situation before taking brisk steps forward and cautiously hovering around the kneeling man.
He was trembling.
And as she soon realised, so was she.
Mere moments ago, as he'd dropped to the ground, some dormant instinct within had almost led her to raise her hand to her teeth and clamp down to create an incision.
An old, useless impulse in response to a tense situation on the field that she had always needed to keep under control.
One wrong move, one ill-timed transformation, and she could either turn the tide of the battle or put those that she cared for at grave risk. Or both…
So why did she still, to this day, have to keep this under control?
Control, adrenaline, trauma…
Of course.
Her ‘comrade’ was likely hallucinating right now.
The younger man had alluded to experiencing panic attacks before, although he’d never outright admitted this to her.
It had been a long day filled with all manner of potential triggers, so it wasn’t exactly surprising that he’d broken down like this considering what he must be seeing right now.
Okay. With that in mind…
Pieck steadied her own breath and repetitively clenched her jittering hands, before moving around to his front.
Still, she kept her distance… she didn’t know how he was going to react while he was in this state of mind, after all.
“Jean? It’s… me.”
******
Initially, he didn’t dare to open his eyes…
It was a living hell inside of his head right now, so whatever was waiting for him on the outside was hardly worth facing either.
Gruesome, sinister grins marked with blood flashed through his mind like a slideshow and kept him grounded within his memories, against his better wishes.
It wasn’t until he eventually felt her cold hands softly caress his face that he was allowed a reprieve, her touch guiding and steadying him as he fell back down to earth.
His fear-filled eyes met hers…
These obscured grey windows reflected a beautiful lie that he kept telling himself.
A lie that he had yet to name but obstinately still clung to with all of his might, in the vain hope of returning to a childhood dream that he could never hope to attain within this new life.
******
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