im just forever curious about hange's backstory
shes such an important character (SHES HOT) and a backstory is really missing here
isayama please please PLEASE make a spinoff/sidestory/prequel
I DONT CARE I JUST NEED HANGE'S BACKSTORY
Omg your stuff literally keeps me alive. Do you think you could do Hange finding out R has a weak spot for being called pet names?
Weak
Type: Fluff
WC: 1.5k
Pairing: Hange x Reader
A/N: Anon I am so sorry this took so long 😭
Hange masterlist • ao3 link • ko-fi
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The door squeaked as you pushed it open, and in it was an all too familiar mess.
Papers littered the place, books towered on every table, and lab equipment was in corners they shouldn’t be in—the place had no sense of organization thanks to Hange’s careless handling of their study room.
“I can see why Moblit asked for a few days off,” you take one step inside, and already, an important looking document lies before your boot.
“Ah, hi!” Crouching, Hange’s head audibly bumps on one of the tables, “Pardon the… well, the mess.” Laughing nervously, their head pops up behind a stack of books.
“So… what’s the plan here again?” Upon wading through the mess, you finally reach Hange, crouched once again with a bunch of papers in their arms.
“The plan here was for Levi to torture me—well, us—into cleaning—“ they bump their head again in an attempt to stand up, “my beautiful study room.
The words echo in your head. The last time you saw the inside of this place, the books were all in their proper places; documents in their categorized folders. Lab equipment was stored and used in one corner of the room. Right now it was, unfortunately, the last thing from “beautiful”.
“That’s one way to describe it.” You glance around, “And you know Levi isn’t here to torture me. I’m here to help you and keep you in check, you little raccoon.” Despite mumbling the last part, Hange catches your words.
“Yeah I know, I know.” They stare up at you with that pretty face of theirs, lips pouting. “So help me, dollface.”
“I—” you sigh, eyes shut.
Dollface, the name rings in your head.
“Y-yeah. Of course.” Immediately, your mood goes from mildly annoyed to confused.
You turn your body to a nearby table, light illuminating the surface from the window that stood in front of it. Your hands rests on the wood, the other on your forehead. There’s a faint smile appearing in your face, but the source of it is puzzling.
“What?” Hange finally stands up, placing the stack of papers on the table before them.
“What?” Looking up to face them, you feel a bit guilty after seeing the worry on their face.
Hands came up to hold your shoulders gently, “No, it’s just… it’s like your mood changed. Are you okay?”
“What? No- yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“You sure, love?”
There it is again.
“Yes, yes. No issue here…” you bite the inside of your cheek.
“Okay,” Hange offers a reassuring squeeze on your shoulders. “Just tell me if you need anything, yeah? And really, you don’t have to be holed down here with me. This is my punishment and mine alone.”
“You think I’m gonna let you do this alone? We both know you’re not getting anything done without me. Besides,” you reach for their hands and squeeze them right back, “doesn’t this kind of count as a date?”
“Us organizing my mess is a date?” Hange looks around, hands inside yours, and gives you a skeptical look.
“Is the sky blue?” Immediately, you regret your words—jaw dropping as Hange flashes a quick smirk before going into a tangent.
“Someti—“
“Just…” You’re quick to shut them up with your hand. “Let’s just enjoy our time together, yeah?”
They chuckle, pushing their glasses up as they do. “Okay, sweetheart.”
Again.
“O-okay.”
-
Sometimes there’s quiet, the occasional break of silence with Hange’s murmuring, but most importantly, there’s progress. However, it was only at least 40% of the way done.
Hands on your hips, you sigh, looking at the remaining books to be put into their proper shelving places.
“Excuse me, dollface,” with one hand on your waist, Hange sneaks behind you—kiss pressed to your cheek at the perfect time that you glanced to where they were going.
There’s a sigh-turned-laughter leaving your lips as you call out their name. “Hange.”
“Yesss?” They turn around cartoonishly.
You can’t help but let out your smile, “Where’d you get the pet name from, hm?”
“What, ‘dollface’?” Hange’s eyes soften at your grin. “Why? Is it bad? Good? What is it?”
“I-I-“ you shake your head in an attempt to remove the stuttering, “It’s—It’s good, yeah.”
“It is, huh?” Hange turns to put some literature on the bookshelves, “well I got it from some fiction novel… as a matter of fact, it’s probably around here somewhere.”
“Didn’t know you read fiction.” Your eyes return to your attention catching task: categorizing certain documents by date.
“Have I surprised you once again, darling?”
Again. That’s another one again.
“Yes you have.” You bite your bottom lip as your unusually high-pitched voice trails off, repeating, “yes you have…”
There’s silence as you shuffle the papers on the table. After successfully categorizing one batch, you notice—with the lack of any other noise—that Hange’s unmoving.
Upon turning to look at them, you find them leaning on a bookshelf and staring right at you. Their arms are crossed, eyes studying you intensely like they would to their titan subjects. There’s a subtle smile on their face as their eyeglasses cast a soft glow on their eyes.
“What?” You look around nervously, a smile forming on your own lips.
“What?” They echo. The smile doesn’t leave their lips.
They look like they know something you don’t, and it’s bothering you.
“What?” You repeat, laugh leaving your lips this time. “I’m asking you.”
“Nothing, love. I just like looking at you.” They watch intensely.
Your hand twitches.
Ah, Hange thinks, there.
“T-thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“You’re welcome, dollface.”
You blink, eyes going downwards—then a shy smile, and lastly, a quick turn to your task.
Aha.
Without looking, you already know they’re strolling over to you—their boots make soft thuds on the wooden floor as they approach you, hands behind their back.
It doesn’t help your heart that their voice has lowered a tiny bit as they speak.
“The pet names make you weak, don’t they?”
“I think it’s you who makes me weak in general.” You try to focus on the papers in front of you, but your hands tremble over the brutal truth they’ve uttered.
Hange takes a deep breath, tone becoming professional, as if taking note of a scientific breakthrough.
“The subject portrays confusion, followed by a moment of concealed happiness upon being called ‘dollface’. There’s an awkwardness that follows when called ‘love’ even though, well, that’s what I mostly call the subject…”
“What are you…”
Hange circles you, a hand delicately placed on their chin, “there’s a stutter in response to ‘sweetheart’…”
“Oka—”
“And there’s a change in tone when called ‘darling’, but,” Hange licks their lips, looking intensely at the floor as they roam around you, “it seems to me… that the endearing term ‘dollface’ has the most effect on the subject.”
There’s a rush of blood on your cheeks. “You… you done psychoanalizing me?”
“And as we can see here, by the tint on the subject’s cheeks,” they hold your face with both hands now, head ducking and checking every angle of your face, “it certainly proves to be the most effective of the bunch.”
“Are… are we done?” You blink many times.
It doesn’t help that Hange has their focus mode on: eyes stern, brows straight, concentration to the max. It was usually quite a sight to see them focusing on their work: experiments, reading research and documents, participating in a meeting…
You didn’t think you’d ever experience being the one getting all the attention—the one under their scrutinizing microscope.
It’s quite… nice.
“You know, I was just trying it out, the pet names. I didn’t think it would be so effective.” They mumble.
“Well…” you gulp, face still cradled in their palms, “there’s your answer.”
“You’re so cute.” They bring your face closer, lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss.
“Hange,” you shove them lightly, hands resting on their strong chest, “s-someone might see.” You glance at the few windows able to see into the room.
“And?” Hange brings their lips to your neck, “let them, dollface.”
“That petname, Hange. I swear to—”
Their lips return to their rightful place: atop yours, then to your jawline, their final stop being your neck where they lightly suck on the skin.
You shove them once more, giggling to yourself, “Levi’s going to pop up in the corner and I don’t want him to find you slacking.”
You catch a smile as Hange turns away. “You mean find us slacking.”
“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “Just… get to work.”
“Mmkay, sweetheart.” They twist their body to fade you momentarily, the feeling of happiness evident in the way that their movements are now more animated. “I think I’ll be done with the books soon, think you can deal with the glassware after your little task?”
There’s a faint feeling of a weapon dancing on your tongue. An advantage. The upper hand? You mull over your decision for a moment.
“Yes, sir,” you breathe out.
From your peripheral, Hange’s lips quiver— parting as if to speak, before closing them in acceptance.
