who fell first? and Who fell harder? Pieck or Porco
Hello dear anon, thank you so much for that wonderful question that ngl, made me wreck my brain for a little while lol
After some considering I'd say that at least for the way I HC them both, i would say Pieck fell first but Porco fell harder.
Now, the question about the why:
I can see Pieck developing a bit of an innocent crush on Porco somewhat early on but usually in a way of her wanting to spend time around him or teasing him more than the rest of the warriors.
Meanwhile, I think Porco was a bit more oblivious to it all, especially because he probably saw all the warriors (minus Marcel) as competitions for getting a titan, so it took him longer to develop some kind of interest in that way.
But when he did eventually, that boy doesn't do halfway.
So, while I can see Pieck silently pining for him for possible years... the moment he falls for her, it gets adorably obvious.
Thank you again for your question! 🥰
Do you have a certain way you like to see them fall in love?
"i never though we'd ever have a chance for this..."
two years ago?
something tragic that supposedly happened
no idea what you're talking about, here's a drawing of porco galliard with an eyepatch marrying pieck finger.
Pieck Finger. Porco Galliard.
Pomeranians. Fire Alarms. Swoon-Worthy Shoulders.
Modern AU.
2895 words.
(ao3.)
At this point of her adult life, Pieck Finger was very used to unexpected things — whether it be her research proposal being turned down for a third time, getting saddled with undergrad babysitting duty at the last minute, or the fire alarm in her building going off at 3AM.
The sound of which was absolutely piercing, nearly making her heart skip a beat as she jolted up from her bed. It only took a few seconds for the blaring noise to be joined by the sounds of every dog in the complex barking their heads off. And here she thought that living in a pet-friendly building was a good idea.
With a grumble, Pieck rubbed her tired eyes and moved off her mattress. So much for trying to sleep at a normal time like a responsible adult.
Stumbling through her studio in the dark felt like a blur. While she didn’t trip over her feet, she did bump her knees into more furniture than she would have liked. The sound of the alarm had yet to cease and was beginning to make her ears feel numb. Somehow she managed to find her keys, pull on her wellington boots, and grab her overcoat before leaving her apartment.
As Pieck walked through the hallways with her neighbours, she noted that everyone moved with a zombie-like gait. It wasn’t the first time the residents of the building had to evacuate due to the fire alarm, but it was certainly the first time it happened at such an ungodly hour.
At least they could all bond over the utter misery of the situation.
The alarm finally stopped once Pieck left the building, but stepping outside wasn’t remotely a change for the better. Though Toronto at this time of year wasn’t unfathomably cold, she could still see her breath as she stepped into the parking lot. She made sure to do-up the buttons of her overcoat as ends of the garments dangled by her bare legs.
Pieck yawned once more, trying her best to not fall asleep while standing — she couldn’t go through that for a third time. So she stood in a gathering of the building’s residents, most of them complaining to each other about the alarm and trying to surmise who had rung it. She wasn’t exactly listening — in fact, a part of her didn’t even care. In layman’s terms, she was way too tired to give a fuck.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before a fire engine arrived at the building. As the uniformed men rushed in, Pieck sighed and began to wander, slowly finding her way out of the crowd of neighbours and deeper into the lot.
Not that there was anything to see, not even an edgy teen smoking a cigarette just to feel something.
But Pieck didn’t get far before she saw a sight that caught her off-guard.
Under a streetlight was a dog and its owner connected by a leash. The dog in question was a pomeranian, a tiny ball of fluff that looked to be about eight pounds soaking wet.
And the owner was currently standing in the midst of the lot…
… wearing nothing but his boxers.
Though technically, he was also wearing a lanyard around his neck and a pair of fuzzy slippers. Clearly, his feet were number one on the list of things that needed to be covered, everything else be damned.
The drowsiness in her system left in seconds as Pieck eyed him, doing her damndest to pay attention to his face.
He seemed about her age and was a head taller than her, though that wasn’t a tall hurdle to jump. The features of his chin and jawline were angular and sharp, which would have made him look dashing if not for his look of utter exhaustion. She couldn’t recall passing his hazel eyes or sandy hair in the hallways — she definitely would’ve remembered him.
But then again, Pieck was rarely home. She had a habit of spending her evenings at the university, either data analyzing the night away or attempting an experiment for the fifth time. Even when she was at her building her thoughts were usually on how tired she was or how long it had been since she ate a goddamn vegetable. And the lettuce in a big mac didn’t count.
A part of her began to feel bad — she had been living in the building ever since she came to Toronto and she couldn’t even put a name to one of the faces.
Soon enough, the Shirtless Wonder stopped staring off into space and looked towards Pieck, effectively breaking her out of her trance.
Their eyes met and suddenly Pieck realized that her gaze had been lingering on him, which combined with his lack of clothes made for a very peculiar set of circumstances.
And not one that made her look good.
“Sorry!” she blurted out. “I wasn’t looking, I was just… uh…”
The Shirtless Wonder shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”
From the sound of his voice, he was likely just as tired as her — who wouldn’t be at this hour?
Pieck nodded and looked downwards, very respectfully avoiding the sight of his crotch. She glanced at the fluff ball on the ground. The pomeranian had cream-coloured fur, a pair of beady black eyes, and seemed to walk with the grace of a nervous chicken wing. It looked up to Pieck and sat on the ground, wagging its tail in her presence.
With a grin, Pieck approached the dog and the dog’s bare-chested owner.
“Who’s the little one?” she asked.
“Her name’s Ripjaw.”
Pieck let out a laugh. There was just something inherently hilarious about such a fearsome name being given to such a floofy chicken nugget. She knelt down to get to the adorable beast’s level.
“Is she friendly?”
“Not usually,” said the Shirtless Wonder. He ran a hand through his unkempt bedhead. “She seems to like you though.”
Pieck’s grin was cheeky as she reached over to pet a very happy Ripjaw. “What can I say? There’s lots to like.”
Pieck swore that she heard the Shirtless Wonder scoffing.
With a gentle touch, Pieck patted the top of Ripjaw’s head, something the pom seemed to enjoy. Sure, waking up at 3AM sucked and she would definitely bemoan it once she headed out later, but meeting the cutest pup in the GTA was definitely an upside.
With a smile, she glanced up to the owner. “I’m Pieck, by the way.”
“Porco,” he answered, and for some reason Pieck felt like that name suited him.
After a few moments of giving Ripjaw all the love she deserved, Pieck stood up straight again. There was another beat as the two tenants (and one dog) looked over at the chaos gathering in front of their building. Firefighters were still going in and coming out, speaking things to each other that Pieck could not hear. If anything, it seemed that the residents would be standing in the cold Toronto night for a few minutes more.
With that in mind, Pieck turned her head towards the Shirtless Wonder and asked —
“So uh… not to bring up the elephant in the parking lot, but… did you just… forget to put on clothes?”
Porco slowly craned his head her way, looked her up and down, and replied — “You’re one to talk.”
Pieck looked down and noticed that her overcoat had come undone, exposing her fashion choices beneath. She was used to t-shirts draping loosely on her tiny frame — often giving the illusion of a make-shift dress — but occasionally running the risk of making it appear that she forgot to put on pants. Tonight, her outfit pertained to the latter criteria.
In a way it was fitting — she had seen Porco’s underwear and now he had seen hers. They were finally on even ground except one of them didn’t have their nipples exposed to the frigid night air.
“Fair point,” Pieck said, then did up her overcoat again. It was certainly not the first time a man had seen her skivvies in public, but she hoped that it would be the last.
After finishing the last button, Pieck glanced down again to see Ripjaw smiling at her feet. The little one proceeded to jump upwards on her stubby legs, clearly craving Pieck’s attention.
And who was Pieck to refuse?
With a grin, she bent down again to pet the pomeranian’s head. “Hello again, Puppy.”
“Do you wanna hold her?”
Pieck’s head snapped towards him, shocked. “Can I?”
Porco was already nodding and kneeling down to pick up his dog. “Sure.”
In her owner’s arms, little Ripjaw had taken the mannerisms of a panting nugget. It was adorable. Porco held Ripjaw to her and Pieck graciously accepted the pup into the arms. The first thing she noted was that despite expecting Ripjaw to be heavier, she really didn’t weigh a lot. The length of her fur was shockingly good at hiding her true proportions. Yet Pieck still held the pom like it was her first born child, unable to wipe the pleased grin on her face.
Clearly, this had been the best thing to happen to her at 3AM since the night she tried edibles and met god.
When Pieck looked back to Porco she realized that he was standing just a little bit closer to her. The smile on his pretty face was unmistakable. Their gazes met and suddenly Pieck remembered that he was currently clad in nothing but his boxers, so she distanced herself from him very slightly, not wanting to risk his discomfort.
“So… what do you do for work?” asked Porco, speaking in a voice that made her think that he was genuinely interested.
“I’m a PhD Candidate. U of T.”
Porco blinked, surprised. “Oh shit, no way.”
Pieck couldn’t help but scoff. Nowadays, the pride she felt from getting accepted into her reach school had long worn off. Now in its place was the despair and agony only known to those who thought that getting a degree in pharmacology was a good idea. Sure, Toronto was definitely farther than she expected to go, as most girls in her hometown of Middle-Of-Nowhere, Alberta were lucky to make it to Edmonton, but the feelings of fortune had sapped away once she accepted her fate as a disposable grad student.
But instead of dwelling on any of that, Pieck retained a smile and decided to say —
“You sound impressed.”
“I mean… I’ve only done community college so yeah…” Porco explained, yet again running a hand through his hair. “You’re leagues ahead of me.”
“Hey, we all gotta start somewhere, right?” Pieck assured him. “Which one?”
“Centennial,” he answered, shrugging. Judging by the way he held himself, he didn’t seem too proud of his accomplishment. “I uh… did that automotive foundations course.”
Pieck tilted her head to the side, quickly looking him up and down and not for the reasons one would think.
“Hm… you didn’t strike me as a grease monkey type…”
Porco raised an eyebrow. “Why so?”
There was a beat, then Pieck reached forward to take his hand, running her thumb over his palm and realizing that it was baby smooth.
“Your hands aren’t that calloused…” she observed. “... and most grease monkeys I've met don’t have cute little muffykins dogs like this.”
Porco scoffed and gave his precious pup a few head pats. “Hey… I didn’t pick Ripjaw, she picked me.”
Pieck let out a laugh. She glanced down to see that Ripjaw had now fallen asleep in her arms, burying her tiny snout into the crook of Pieck’s elbow like it was the only place she ever wanted to be. The sight of it was enough to make Pieck melt then and there.
For a moment, the underdressed PhD candidate and grease monkey looked towards their building entrance again. Behind the crowd of sleepy tenants were more firefighters exiting the place. Judging by the lack of skip in their step, it was fair to say that whatever called them over was no longer an issue. Or at least, an issue worth panicking over.
One older firefighter with the bushiest mustache on this side of Lake Ontario stepped out of the building last. He was holding some kind of charred, smoking item in his gloved hand as he approached the crowd. He cleared his throat rather loudly to get everyone’s attention.
From where Pieck and Porco stood, they could see the firefighter raising the item up in the air. It turned out to be a skillet that had been burnt to hell and back, whatever food had been cooking on it had been so scorched so thoroughly that it had turned black and became one with the pan.
“Lesson learned, people!” the firefighter announced. “If you make pancakes at 3AM, don’t fall asleep!”
Some chuckles were heard in the crowd, but most were drowned out by the groans of frustration and yawns of exhaustion. At least no one seemed particularly interested in pinpointing who started the fire. Nonetheless, the firefighters had deemed it safe to re-enter the building, much to the relief of everyone.
Pieck handed Ripjaw back to Porco and the pom looked quite sad to be away from her arms. With her hands in her overcoat pockets, Pieck walked back towards the entrance of the building with the bare-chested grease monkey walking next to her.
They joined the crowd of people re-entering the place, Porco holding his precious pomeranian in his arms to prevent her from being trampled. Since everyone seemed to be taking their sweet time getting back into the place, Pieck turned to Porco and asked —
“What unit are you in?”
“302. You?”
“402.” Pieck smiled. “I must be right above you.” She then reached over to boop Ripjaw’s nose. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard her screaming. Aren’t pomeranians supposed to be yappy?”
Porco chuckled, seeming a lot more awake despite the time of night. “Oh, she is, but she lets it out at doggy day care.”
Something about the sentence made Pieck light up. “You send her to daycare!?”
“Of course,” he said, giving an honest grin. “Hers is just down the street.”
The idea of little Ripjaw roaming a room of dogs brought a grin to Pieck’s face. A part of her could just envision the fluff ball acting like the mighty leader of the pack, commanding her own forces to bring them all to victory.
Surprisingly, Pieck and Porco were some of the few tenants taking the stairs. Perhaps some people were a little too sleep-deprived to realize how ungodly long the line for the elevator was. And in a four-storey building, no less.
In due time they arrived at the third floor. Porco began stepping towards the doorway leading him to the hallway, catching Pieck’s attention.
“Guess this is you then, eh?” she asked.
Porco nodded. “That it is.” His eyes then glanced down to Ripjaw in his arms, who’s attention was on the PhD candidate and only the PhD candidate.
With a sweet smile on her face, Pieck walked over to give the pom a few pets goodbye.
“See you around, Baby Girl,” she said, then looked up to Porco. “Oh, and you, too.”
In any other situation — perhaps one that involved both parties being more clothed — Pieck might have directed the nickname to Porco instead, just to entertain herself. But for now, she was content to shower the adorable pomeranian with love and maybe acknowledge the owner too.
Porco seemed to be amused by her antics. “You know, I come home around 6-ish every day. You could stop by.”
Pieck nodded. “I like the sound of that, I could use a break from the neverending road of despair that’s academia.” Her tone was surprisingly cheery.
Pieck was expecting Porco to laugh at her remark, as did most of her fellow grad students and candidates. However, when she looked up to meet his gaze all she could see was the look of utter concern on his handsome face.
“Grad school humour,” she explained dryly, and to that Porco nodded quite slowly.
“Ah, gotcha.”
Pieck’s voice suddenly took a more chipper tone to distract from her sense of humour.
“Anyways, good night!”
And with that said, Pieck turned around and dashed up the staircase as quickly as her boots could take her. She didn’t look back at the shirtless wonder, as much as parts of her wanted to.
Once she arrived at unit 402, she was quick to grab her keys and enter her home. Now inside the comfort of her studio, Pieck immediately discarded her coat and boots like a stripper whose rent was due tomorrow. She didn’t even bother turning on the lights. A look at the clock on her night stand told her that she had less than four hours of sleep to enjoy before life would start again. So after diving into bed, she pulled her blankets over her body before closing her eyes and attempting to face slumber once more.
To Pieck’s surprise, the last thing on her mind before she fell asleep did not pertain to her research, advisor’s words, or the lack of groceries in her fridge. Instead what laid in her head were the memories of a little fluffy chicken wing and a pair of absolutely swoon-worthy shoulders.
After the war, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, Pieck finds it difficult settling into civilian life, still grief-stricken and heartbroken despite the passage of time.
After his demise in Shiganshina, three years after his last stand, Porco wakes up in a strange place, thrust back into a new world and given a second chance to live a life he'd been robbed of.
When the impossible finally reunites them, they discover there are many highs and lows in post-war society - and they will be there for one another every step of the way.
