cosmosorbitt

[cosmosorbitt]

mutable ch4

thank u all sm for the support on the last chapter! see u all for ch5 :3

hange x fem reader

wc: 4123

tags: fluff, angst, modern

cross posted on ao3

chapter four - apple cider

call me at midnight

let’s give this thing a try

play apple cider by beabadoobee

September 2017

Being friends with Hange is a rollercoaster. It’s amiable, cozy, and above all, loving. They’re easy to be around, outgoing and never one to deem others below them.

You sit in their parked truck, the once sinful stench now providing a blanket of comfort. The windows are rolled down, the cool fall breeze blowing through the car, flowing between the locks of your hair. 

Hange’s radio hums in the background as you scroll through your socials, feet pulled up on the seat and crunching against your chest. You rest your chin on your knees, mindlessly staring at your phone.

You turn your head to look at Hange, who is currently dropping a french fry into their open mouth. The scene compels a giggle out of you, and they snap their gaze to yours with a smile, mouth full.

“What’s so funny?” Hange teases with their mouth still full, the food obstructing their words slightly and slurring them.

“Nothing. Just you,” you jest back, a small smirk twitching at the corners of your lips. “Can I have a fry?” You hold your hand out to them.

“Say please.”

“Are you my mom?” you bark out with a laugh, the teasing banter coming naturally. Over the past month of knowing Hange, you’ve explored parts of them that you never would’ve been able to deduce on your own.

One: they like having control.

Hange snatches the bag of fries just out of your reach, teasing your hungry stomach.

“No, but she should’ve taught you better manners. Say please,” they jingle the bag back and forth, the same way an owner teases a puppy with a new toy.

You reach for the bag, but they move it further away, again just out of your reach. A huff of exasperation leaves your lungs, and you reach further over the middle console with another attempt of yanking the fries from their hands.

Two: Hange is very touchy.

They grab the hand once reaching for the bag, intertwining it with theirs and pushing you back into the passenger seat. Your heart drums in your ears, significantly faster than usual. Hange retracts their hand, caressing your cheek ever so slightly in the process.

“Say. Please.”

“Fine. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Hange Zoe.”

The sound of their full name makes them cackle. It’s crazed and energetic, like they’ve been holding it in for years at a time. They toss a fry into your hand, freeing you from their endless teasing.

Hange pats your shoulder gently, a sweet gesture in the form of an apology.  Their hand lingers, squeezing your shoulder with a firm grip as if to announce its departure from your body.

You eat the fry whole, giving Hange a glare as you chew. They pick up a pack of cigarettes that sits in their cup holder, sliding one out between their lean fingers.

Three: Hange loves cigarettes.

They swipe a shabby lighter from their pocket, lighting up the end of the cigarette before taking a long drag and exhaling it out the window. You watch in awe, confidence oozing through them in an infectious manner. Your nose scrunches as the smell of nicotine and tobacco settles, the smoke disappearing in the wind with the smell plaguing the car.

Hange catches you staring at the glory that is their face. They chuckle, low and saccharine, it’s so quiet you nearly miss it. You snap your head in the other direction, the trees nearby quickly becoming much more enticing than their face.

“Do you want a smoke?”

The question catches you off guard, sending a wave of guilt over you. You let the quiet hang in the air for a moment as you ponder your response.

“No. Sorry,” you aren’t really sure why you’re apologizing. You shouldn’t feel guilty, just for rejecting something you’re fully aware is an abhorrent habit. Maybe you want to impress them, or even just make yourself seem cooler than you are.

But that’s not who you are.

“Suit yourself,” they mutter quietly, taking a long drag. You imagine the chemicals settling into their lungs, smoldering every inch that it touches into pure ash, leaving only a black chunk left. Disheartening is the only way to describe it, knowing that this is the way Hange chooses to destroy themself.

The breeze picks up, shaking the truck slightly in its wake. Hange stubs their cigarette and sets it into a trash bag sitting in the back seat before rolling up both windows. The burnt, acrid smell suffocates the car and you find yourself fighting a gag.

“It stinks,” you utter, attempting to wipe the smell out of your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Tastes better than it smells, I’ll tell you that.”

You can’t even imagine what cigarettes would taste like if the campfire aroma is the only description to go off of. Flavored cigarettes are fairly common, but you know Hange likes everything raw and unfiltered, just like their actions.

“What does it taste like?”

“I’ll show you.”

Without a second thought, Hange’s left hand grasps your cheek, and you can feel their lips press against your own. Their lips are slightly chapped, but you can relish the nicotine on them. The taste is bitter, far too similar to black coffee for your liking. 

The kiss concludes just as quickly as it started, a simple peck to prove that you’re more than just friends. You aren’t sure whether it’s the nicotine or Hange’s lips, but it’s addicting nonetheless.

“Did you like it?”

“Which part?” you giggle breathlessly, the scene beforehand replaying itself in your mind.

—————————

play i crave for you by :of the wand and the moon:

The beginnings of fall surround you as Hange’s truck streaks down the barren road. Every single hue of red, orange, and yellow decorates the trees as a couple straggling leaves fall to the concrete ground.

Hange’s kiss remains on your lips. While it isn’t there physically, the memory of plump flesh pressing against your own loiters in your brain. Certainly not the best scenario to have your first kiss with Hange, but if you had to choose, you’d do it all over again.

Their sweetness, their confidence, the way their head tilts to the side and reels you in like a new catch at the lake. Butterflies fester in your stomach, snagging against every single nerve in your body.

You look back at Hange, and a heat rises to your face, undoubtedly red. You just kissed Hange. You felt their face centimeters from your own as your lips melded into one, the world disappeared around you. 

You got to experience that feeling.

The sight of your house sends a wave of disappointment into your blood, having to tear yourself away from Hange for the night. Hange’s truck skirts to a stop in your dirt driveway, kicking up dust and debris behind it. You sit, unmoving for a moment as a single thought becomes clearer in your mind.

“Do you want to come in?”

A river of words rush from your mouth before you can stop them, the aching need to be closer to Hange swallowing you whole. They turn their head to you, the only sound present is a rustle of the leaves blowing outside. Hange gives you the softest smile before turning off their ignition.

“Yeah.”

The world goes quiet again, just the two of you admiring each other as if there is nothing more beautiful in the world than your love. It’s stunning, a taste of the euphoria that comes with being friends with Hange.

With loving Hange.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you slip out of the passenger seat and shut the door. Hange follows quickly behind you, skipping up to your front door as you unlock it. You allow them in first, closing the door and locking it behind you.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve had a friend over, let alone a crush. It’s frightening, stepping into new territory with a heart full of fear. You walk into the kitchen, your floorboards creaking with every step of the way. The kitchen has a soft glow from the afternoon light, basking everything in a golden hue.

“Do you want a water?” you ask as you open the cupboard to grab a glass.

“I’m fine,” they reply quietly, taking in their newfound surroundings.

You hold the glass under the sink, filling it up with water and taking a small sip to ease your nerves. You gesture for Hange to follow you up the stairs. It’s a lonesome hallway with three doors, one with the guest bedroom, a bathroom, and your own room. Nervousness builds inside of you as you open the door to your room, the buzz of your old fan filling the silence.

Your glass of water is set upon your nightstand, and you take a seat on your covers. The comfort of being in your own bed is a calming touch that aids in leaving your nerves behind.

Hange eyes the guitar in the corner of your room, a flash of excitement filling their features. 

“Do you play?”

“Not really, it’s my mom’s,” you admit lowly. You want to lie, to prove that you’re just as amazing as Hange makes you out to be, but you would feel guilty.

“Okay, I’ll play, and you sing.”

Their offer strikes fear in you. Singing in a group is fine, it’s easy and you’re able to get your emotions out while not being the exact center of attention.

Music is a sacred art, one to be learned and practiced to a tee without mistakes.  A coping mechanism that allows for the release of all emotions that maturate inside of your body, a feeling that makes you feel complete. Music isn’t meant to change on the fly, it’s supposed to stay the same. To perform the same in front of everyone, to unleash your writing onto the audience to prove that you’re worthy, to show what you’ve done to give the final blow of the chorus.

“I can’t sing.”

“You’re in choir,” they refute, their voice challenging, egging you on to prove that they’re right. A moment of unease and silence passes as they settle on the bed, creaking slightly from the added weight.

“Fine, but you have to sing with me.”

They smirk at their victory, testing the tuning of the acoustic with a single strum.

play anyone else but you by michael cera and elliot page

The opening chords are messy and rushed, but you recognize the song immediately as Anyone Else But You. It’s soft and simplistic, an homage to the first moments you spent together.

When you were nothing but friends.

They start the song with a honeyed deep voice, their eyes locking onto yours with an admiration that can rival Romeo himself.

“You’re a part time lover and a full time friend.”

Their singing creates a smile that crosses your face, sweet and genuine. Your previous fear is gone, descended below into the ground and replaced with an undying love, a love reserved for Hange.

“Don’t see what anyone else can see in anyone else, but you.”

The lyrics hold you captive, keeping you in place as Hange only continues the song, giving you a small nod of reassurance as the melody flows from your lungs.

“We sure are cute for two ugly people.”

Their smile is infectious, sweeping your nervous grin to a more confident one.

“Don’t see what anyone else can see in anyone else, but you.”

It’s a shared intimate moment. Love and adoration pouring out from each orifice of both of your bodies, everlasting to each other. They fumble a chord when switching to another, but they keep playing after a slight curse. It’s not practiced, it’s not routine, it’s new. It’s an art that Hange creates with their hands to demonstrate their true feelings to you, to humbly express the love that erupts from their heart.

Hange chimes in to harmonize with you, the contrast of voices designing an alluring dissonance that fills the air.

“Now I’m in love with how you feel.”

“I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else.”

“But you.”

Hange stops strumming abruptly, clearing the smile from your face just as it had begun to grow in size. They place the guitar gently on the floor before looking directly at you. The same admiration from before is clear, intriguing and pleasing all the while.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N.”

All other aspects of your life disappear, their statement crashing over you with a wave of joy. Everything fades around you, the guitar, the room, the sky, the only thing remaining is you and Hange, sitting on your bed together. 

“I do too.”

Just as quickly as before, Hange cups your face and leans in. Their lips flush against your own, an experimental kiss. The force knocks you backwards on the bed, finding yourself lying back as they crawl over you with the same confidence they always possess.

Your hands navigate to their own cheeks, reeling them closer until you both pull away, desperate for air. Your breaths are mingling, and Hange rests their forehead against your own. You smell the remnants of their cigarette on their lips, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Hange Zoe just asked you out, officially.

“You are fucking incredible,” they huff, still gasping for air.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you chuckle quietly, carding your fingers through their messy ponytail. Hange pecks the apple of your cheek, just as tender as the first time you shared a kiss.

—————————

play see you later, i’m gone by robert lester folsom

Hange lies below you, your head resting upon their chest. The steady beat of their heart lulls you into a peaceful trance, not quite asleep, but not fully awake either. Faint smells of cigarette smoke still lingers on them, but you inhale it without hesitation.

Thump, thump, thump.

Hange’s hands entertain themselves in your hair, combing through it and scratching your scalp occasionally. Your phone next to you plays music quietly while Hange mindlessly scrolls on their own. It’s uncomplicated, a simple love that you’ve yearned for finally finding its way to your heart.

It’s an unexpected, divergent experience. Changing with the seasons the same way water crashes into the shoreline. Hange is your partner, someone to spend time together with an added touch of intimacy and romance.

Thump, thump, thump.

You begin to realize that all the previous nervousness was excitement. A similar feeling that’s easy to mix up, but now excitement is the only emotion that brews within you.

Hange’s hand travels down to your back, smoothing the wrinkles in your shirt and rubbing soft circles into your spine. A sigh retires from your lips, and Hange grabs a blanket to pull over your bodies.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your body itches to be closer, even closer than it already is. To mush into a singular being filled with every bit of adoration that seeps from both of your bodies. To feel every inch of their skin on yours, to relish in every molecule that makes up their body together with yours.

It’s pathetic, but your love is irrefutable.

Your head moves slightly, opening your eyes properly to look into Hange’s. They’re already looking at you, a soft smile gracing their features.

Looking into Hange’s eyes is like looking into a mug of coffee. Bittersweet, but warm and addictive nonetheless. Their newfound gentleness with you is virtuous, a pleasurable warmth wrapping around your heart.

“You’re very pretty,” they remark with a grin.

“You’re very handsome,” you counter with a similar expression.

Their hands stop on your back, closing in on your hair again as their slender fingers slip through the threads. It’s comforting, and you find yourself leaning into the touch like a puppy.

You ponder on the similie, the interchangeable similarities of you and a dog is uncanny. The undying loyalty, the peculiar sense of smell, the necessity to be close to someone. Most of all, the hatred for change.

Lying in Hange’s arms is different, the first person you’ve ever had the satisfaction of sharing intimacies with. Soft kisses to the top of your head, and the same impulse to be ever closer to the other. It’s innocent, the purest form of love that sweeps you off of your feet and into the unknown world of relationships.

The change in your life you’ve vowed to be disgusting, is now welcomed in the form of Hange. Hange is the change that you’re growing to love, to watch the love inside of you bloom into a fully grown plant whose roots intertwine with theirs.

Their love is sweet and full, filling your body up to the brim with pure adoration.   Tobacco still stains their shirt with its smell, but you can’t find yourself bothering to care. A soft smile appears on their lips, and the warmth transfers from their gaze to yours.

Hange takes their phone and flashes you with their camera, leaving you disoriented.

“What was that for?” you giggle.

“For when I’m missing you.”

Hange’s voice is quiet and sweet, singing melodies into your ears as an orchestra. Their voice always has this specific tone to it whenever they’re around you, softer and more approachable. The soft spot that only gives way for you.

—————————

November 2025

Hange crumples into your arms, your bodies merging into each other’s rigid edges. The ache of their previous absence from your life haunts you, taunting you with a wiggling finger. Their sobs subside, leaving a hollow body lying limp in your arms.

You’re perfect.

Words you once admit freely now stutter in your throat, a silence falling over the room only shattered by their wheezes. The same smell of burnt paper reeks, clinging to their hair and clothes. Searing pain flutters in your chest, an ache to be seen and bleeding onto them. Your body retracts from Hange’s, leaving nothing but warmth upon their skin. A shared breath that you’ll never remember, the taste of tobacco loitering on your tongue, just the way you remember it.

You’ve given Hange years to ripen, to grow themself into someone that they no longer are. Parts of them are still the same, the shaggy hair framing their face, the oval glasses, the hooked nose that you dream about in slumber. 

You know in your heart they’re different. Even from the first moments of your relationship, it was different. Something changed inside of them, you aren’t sure of the catalyst, but the product still shakes you to this day.

You bite your lip just to feel something, your face feels numb, like a mask. If you open your mouth, you’re sure that your true thoughts would spill freely onto the velvet couch.

Hange’s ego is floored, sinking to the ground with a pathetic whistle. Someone you would spend every single second with now sits in front of you, eye shifting up to meet your own. Something familiar leaks from their eyes, one you’ve only seen years ago.

Longing.

play anything by adrianne lenker

You want to hate Hange. To crush them between your fingers and watch the crimson flood from them. Revenge would be so sickly sweet, but reminiscing on the gentle way their hands used to caress your cheek causes a lump to form in your throat.

 You still love them. Your own personal galaxy would curve simply to grace their shoulder, to smell the familiar musk of cigarettes and cinnamon that reeks off of them. It’s cruel, having been able to taste their love and their lips just for it to be ripped from your hands. Your brain thrives off of the dopamine Hange feeds you, spoonful by spoonful.

Without Hange, your body doesn’t feel whole, and the opportunity to experience their love fully again presents itself to you. You aren’t made for anyone to hold. Anyone except Hange.

Resolve crumples to ash in your veins, and your head rests upon their shoulder. Their smell is still the same, that same musk with a wave of warmth and comfort. 

Hange lays their own head on top of yours, and the tears you’ve fought so hard to restrain flood from your eyes. A choked sob escapes from you, but you feel so fucking good. Closure that was never received finally hits you full force. Part of your brain wonders if they feel the same love that you still do. Yearning for the sweet touch of each other’s lips to feed your hunger for happiness. 

You don’t want to feed your own delusions, living off of the lies that they so delicately spread to your bones. Hange admitted to missing you, but were they simply craving the attention that you supply to them forever more? While Hange definitely changed, you know that they aren’t like that. They always have a reason, one way or another.

Feeling Hange next to you, touching their skin to yours willingly, you finally feel alive for the first time in years. You feel the air fill your lungs, the dingy light kissing your skin, it’s enough for you. Enough is everything. Enough is feeling Hange, your love still too prominent for them not to notice.

“I wish we could try again,” they whisper. A cold reminder that what love is left can never be kindled with a fire again. You loved them too much, too closely. Knowing Hange and you are never meant to work out.

I wish.

But you do too. You wish on every shooting star, every loose eyelash, and every birthday since that day. You wish for their love to suffocate you the same way it did. To feel the overwhelming desire of being ever closer, to love every part of them again. 

It’s gone.

Shriveled into the dead flowers they bought you, flaky petals sitting on your nightstand with the only moisture being your tears. Feeling their breath on the top of your head is now grotesque, nausea fluttering throughout your body. 

“Why?” you mutter, the question slipping from your lips before you can even process it.

“Why, what?”

You falter. The words straggle in your throat, stuck between wanting to speak every single thought that crosses your mind, or protecting yourself. Protecting yourself from the pain of hurting yourself for the love you know still festers inside of you.

“Why can’t we try again?”

You can hear Hange’s breath hitch, the hesitance crystal clear.

“It’s complicated.”

“Then why tell me you miss me?” You spit, anger once again flowing into your veins.

Hange pauses, picking up their resting head from yours to look at you. A scowl from your face stares dead at them, icy and cold. 

“I’m not lying. It’s complicated, Y/N,” Hange breathes out, trying to keep your frustration at bay.

“So, what? You just hurt me over and over. That’s all you fucking do. And now you’re trying to hurt me again,” you cry. It’s the truth that you’ve pined to tell them, to finally squish the ego that they’ve retained.

Hange’s eye narrows at you, their brows knitting into an unreadable expression. They seem angry, but sympathetic in the way that their eye twitches ever so slightly.

“You don’t get it,” they choke out, bottling up the vexation that floods through them.

“Then tell me. Tell me so I get it. Because right now, I don’t. I don’t understand what you’re doing,” you reply, softer this time.

“It’s a stupid explanation.”

“I don’t care.”

Hange sighs, taking a breath to compose themselves. 

“I hurt people. I don’t know why, I don’t want to, but I do. I hurt people all the time, and every time I try to fix it, I just hurt them again. I hate myself for it. I left you that night because I knew I was just going to hurt you again. Because every time I wanted to help you, I fucked it up royally and caused you to hurt even more. I couldn’t hurt you anymore.”

You’re stunned, it’s the truth. The disgustingly honest truth. Hange’s right. They do hurt people. They hurt you. But you know now, they wanted it to be better for you. To let you love yourself before you could love them.

“I still want to be your friend, more than anything.”

“Hange, I don’t know—“

“Please, Y/N.”

Your hands shake in your lap. You’re terrified, terrified that they’ll only hurt you. You can’t deny them, they pull you in every time, every interaction, you’re still theirs.

“Okay.”

mutable | chapter four

[cosmosorbitt]

mutable | hange x fem reader

happy birthday @4zedd! wrote this angsty chapter js for u <3

hange x fem reader

wc: 4137

tags: angst, modern au

cross posted on ao3

chapter three - sleep like wolves

color in our hearts

i’ll let him question love

play sleep like wolves by lalleshwari (katie jane garside)

November 2025

You detest Hange. You hate their hair. You hate their glasses. You hate their piercings. You hate their tattoos. You hate their sickeningly sexy smirk.

Most of all, you hate the fact that you still have a place in your heart for them.

You hate yourself for it specifically, after every single moment spent together, you still love them. It certainly wasn’t as much as you did in high school, but they’re still positioned deeply in your heart. The memories of the past, the sweet love sickness that could have hindered you bed ridden, all hidden in the maze that is your brain.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You planned a future with Hange, promises to love each other forever and always, but they fell empty. Ideas of a shared house, a cozy place to come back to after completing their unchanging goal to travel the world. 

Hange always wanted to go to Marley. The country was supposedly significantly more advanced than anything in Paradis, and Hange’s pursuit for knowledge is always never ending. They enjoy finding out each little detail about everyone and everything, breaking it down into some kind of science project. 

That was their favorite subject, you recall every project that they would present to the class was filled with such passion and enthusiasm. A tiny smile graces your lips as you look back on the times that their presentations would get cut short for being too long, but they were so thorough, so full of life and fulfillment.

As soon as you catch yourself smiling, you stop dead in your tracks, the smile falling to a frown. Hange ruins you, the emotional turmoil that arises now every time you even hear the name, the soul-crushing yearning that takes over your body is unbearable.

It could’ve been different. It should’ve been different. Things would’ve worked out.

If only Hange wasn’t so fucking mutable.

They change with the winds, each day bringing a new story and life that they experience. The same change that you despise so much, and yet it was such a big characteristic of someone you would have given your life to.

A sudden warmth drips down your cheek, and you bring up your finger to see the tear that escaped. Only a single tear that falls from your left eye, but you can’t quite tell what it’s from. Were you crying because you were angry? Or sad?

It causes an itch in your brain, one that is just out of reach with the jumble of thoughts that run wild.

Deep down, you know it wasn’t anger. You know you can never be mad at Hange, no matter what. Their presence alone is enough to make you crumble, falling to your knees in defeat.

You know that if they ever ask to get back together, you’d come crawling back to them without an ounce of hesitation in you.

You sit up in bed, wiping your eyes and grounding your feet on the floor. A long pause of silence overtakes the room, only being broken by your breaths and a small sniffle. You swallow the lump forming in your throat and stand up, walking to your bathroom.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, face red, with both eyes glossy and pink.

This is fucking pathetic.

You splash your face with some water, allowing it to drip down your face and rid the previous emotions that were present. The water drips into the drain, washing away your sorrows into the plumbing.

—————————

After a couple hours of sulking in your room, you get up for work. You make a silent prayer that Hange doesn’t come in today, for the sake of your self-respect.

Getting ready for the day is another one of your favorite things. It’s a routine that doesn’t change, another methodical chore. Concealer, eyelashes, brows, eyelashes again, lip gloss. It was comforting. You keep all of your products the same as well, dreading the outcome of a possible break out or spending too much money on something you didn’t like.

It was consistent.

Far from anything Hange tries to be.

Guilt begins to stir in your stomach, the sickness swirling the same way a whirlpool does. The hatred that burns in your heart is all a facade. Talking down on Hange wouldn’t make you feel better. It’s a twisted realization, one that makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry like a child. Tears well in your eyes again, but you blink them away with such haste that it feels as if they were never there.

You snatch the brush up from your vanity, desperate to change your train of thought to distract yourself. You comb through your hair, trying to smooth out any knots and kinks that sit in your messy bedhead. 

You stare at yourself in the vanity mirror. An empty shell of a person, a cold and resentful being that you can no longer recognize as yourself. 

You aren’t hateful.

You are a kind person.

—————————

The drive to the library is agonizing, filled with the quiet music of your playlist and the hum of your car. You’re left only with your thoughts, yet again drifting back to Hange.

Blatantly, it sucked. It sucked more than you thought imaginable, guilt eating at you the way a lion tears apart its prey. Parking the car, you slide out with your bag, triple checking that your car is locked behind you.

The library is empty, only your coworker, Armin, being behind the front desk. You step up to the front, clocking in for your shift and letting a sigh ooze into the air. 

“Are you okay?” Armin questions softly. His hair is neatly brushed downwards, the blonde looking even brighter in the sun from the window. He had just cut his hair shorter, so you were able to properly see his blue eyes this time.

“Just tired. Long night,” you reply softly, the familiar buzz of the air conditioning ringing in your ears. It wasn’t entirely wrong. You were exhausted, having spent the entirety of last night pondering on your little “hangout” with Hange.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You nod, and he clocks out. The bell above the door jingles loudly, contrasting the silence of the library. He gives you a little wave before stepping out of the doorway.

Just like that, you were left alone again with the endless thoughts sprouting out of your brain.

—————————

play puppet by tyler the creator

Closing the library is easy, only consisting of shelving the remaining books that have been returned and locking the door behind you when you leave. You take the two books that were returned today, shelving them in the appropriate location, and escorting yourself to the exit after the alarm is set.

The car ride back home is mind numbing, the rumble of your small car emptying your mind for the first time in the past twenty four hours. Your mind finally felt quiet, all the thoughts that rested in your mind were finally free into the open sky.

Your apartment isn’t far. A soft coat of snow layers on the road, dancing down onto the ground. Snowflakes stick to your windshield, and you turn up the hot air in your car to oppose the cold that runs through your body.

Your parking spot has always stayed the same, just outside the apartment. Not very close, but not far enough away that it’s a struggle. The freezing temperatures pinch your skin as soon as the car door opens, sending a shiver down your whole body. You rush into your apartment complex, jogging to your door and fiddling with your keys as your hands shake.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you, deserting the snow outside and collapsing on the warmth of your couch. It sucks you in, the cushions inviting you closer until you sink fully into them.

Your eyes close with the moment of peace, your mind still empty. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier hours of the day, where your mind had run miles upon miles without stopping. It was fatiguing, but it felt so exhilarating at the same time.

A buzz snaps you out of the trance you’re in, your eyes shooting open and jumping slightly. You pick up your phone, feeling your stomach drop to create a bottomless pit of nausea.

hans_zoe wants to send you a message.

The notification knocks the wind out of you. Your breath hitches, stopping for a moment before you finally exhale the breath you had unintentionally been holding.

You crave their attention, to know what they want to say to you. You feel them grasping control over your body, urges to proclaim every feeling that stirs inside of you out into the air. The lack of self-control overwhelms you, the pit in your stomach spreading to your entire body. Hange wanted to talk to you, again. After the fiasco that was last night, they still wanted to talk to you.

Expecting yourself to let out a sob, you surprise yourself when a laugh escapes you. A genuine laugh that doesn’t escape very often, only one that Hange could bring out of you.

Part of you is disgusted, disgusted with the fact that you’re letting yourself lose your self respect yet again. But the other part of you is ecstatic, a crumble of hope sparkling in your chest.

You stare at the notification before finally unlocking your phone and opening it.

“hey, i’m really sorry about last night. i’m playing at a bar tonight, i’d love it if you could come and watch, we can talk after.”

You can’t think of a single coherent thought after reading it. You read it and reread it over and over again until you can see it every time your eyes close to blink. You should reject it, you should. 

But heaven knows you won’t.

You know the effect they have on you. The way you praise their every movement and decision, the way you treat them as a superior. 

You treat them better than yourself. The respect that you deserve and know that you deserve, all granted to Hange without hesitation.

They know it too.

Hange knows that you would drop everything to be theirs again, that you would buckle at their feet just to kiss their sweet lips again.

But you’re falling for it.

“hi. i’ll come tonight, where’s it at?”

—————————

play eat them by lady pills

You find yourself standing in front of an old dive bar. It’s shabby and decrepit, but you hear the music playing loudly from inside. The bass cuts through the walls, reverberating the floor outside beneath your feet. You take a deep breath, hurrying your shivering body into the bar.

As soon as you step into the bar, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol invades your nose, settling into your lungs. Some other band is up on the stage, playing a song you’re unable to recognize. The guitarist strums with such force you’re afraid that the strings will snap beneath her touch. 

Her hair is a bright strawberry blonde, tied into little pigtails that protrude from the sides of her head. Her green eyes bring out her freckles, allowing you to see them even in the shabby lighting.

You look around, and the place is flooded with college students. There couldn’t have been anyone over the age of thirty residing here. You find a hallway leading to the restrooms, stepping inside the single room and locking the door for a moment of privacy.

The bathroom is littered with graffiti and trash overflowing from its can. You stare at yourself in the dirty mirror, tiles cracked around it, still covered in vandalism. It’s weird looking at yourself now, just a couple hours ago you perceive yourself as a husk, a skeleton without any personality. Now, you see the life growing inside of you, the same sparkle of hope from earlier taking over the previously disgusted emotions.

Even in the bathroom, you can still hear the music. It blares through the foundation, and you let yourself relax. Despite everything, Hange wanted you here. They invited you, they talked to you again.

You take a final breath of the cigarette stench, unlocking the bathroom door and walking back down the hallway where the music is loudest and people are socializing without a single care in the world.

You sit at the bar, waving down the bartender to order a virgin Shirley temple. It makes you curious, is Hange’s beer taste still the same? Miller Lites keep them sane, as they say.

It was funny, both of you remembering the other’s tiniest details. Knowing everything about Hange was a flex, they didn’t just open up to anyone and everyone. It was secret information, something that kept you two together and promises that only you would hear from them.

You sit in Hange’s room, watching them strum absentmindedly on their guitar. Their fingers were calloused from years of playing, but long and slender enough to perform even the most difficult chords.

“Play a song, Hans,” you order them.

They direct their gaze from their guitar to you, sitting criss cross on the floor of their childhood bedroom. They gave a small smirk and a nod.

“Okay, like what?”

“I don’t know, just give me something good.”

They look at their guitar, then back to you. Rich and brown, warm and inviting with every glance.

“Alright.”

They strum softly, a test of the tuning, before starting on the chords. Hange’s fingers move quickly, moving from one chord to the next in perfect time. The sound was nostalgic, bringing you back to times of listening to music with your father.

They mess up a chord, cursing and strumming angrily. The action makes you giggle, and they look back to you with a soft smile before pressing a peck to your lips, leaving you flustered.

The memory pops out of your brain just in time for the current band to exit stage. Applause and cheers fill your ears, but the only thing on your mind is if Hange still plays the same as they did all those years ago.

—————————

play sad boys by dazey and the scouts

The lights dim around you, allowing for the next band to enter the stage. Of course, it’s Hange’s. You avert your gaze to your drink as it’s placed in front of you, taking a sip as they set up.

The condensation around your cup wets your hand, and you flick it off to the side  along with your dignity. What were you doing here?

Hange had asked you here, you reassure yourself, but there’s a quiver in your own inner monologue. A hiccup that should signal you to run, to run with what’s left of your pride. Your gut tells you to scream, to let all the years worth of emotion out at them at this very moment, but you don’t.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the stage, finding Hange already looking right at you. Your eyes lock on each other, reminiscent of the very first time you saw each other.

Their oval glasses sit atop their nose, being the only thing that comes in between their intense gaze that’s locked on your own. They wear black pants, an old, beat up pair of doc martens, and a white wife beater with stains on it. Just as messy as you remember.

Hange positions the mic directly by their mouth, clearing their throat and turning to the rest of the audience.

“We’re Mutable, and this song is for someone in here.”

The bar erupts into cheers and oohs, the noise rumbling the building itself. Hange looks back to you, taking a deep breath and beginning the starting solo of the song.

Hange’s voice is deeper than you remember, but the raspiness stays the same from years of smoking cigarettes. If you were still in choir, you would’ve berated them for their use, especially being in a band.

But you aren’t. You’re a new and entirely alternate person from who you once were. The guitar echoes throughout the bar in perfect harmony with their voice, and only then do you realize the truth.

They still play the same. Hange is still the same person that they were in high school, no matter the physical difference. 

Nostalgia seeps out from your pores as you listen, the way their fingers move in time with each chord, the angry strumming that only you can notice through a fumble of chords, but this time, they keep going.

Hange doesn’t stop the song to curse, only continuing on with the angry look on their face. One that you know far too well. They look directly at you, nearly kissing the microphone the same way they would kiss you.

“I don’t want to live together knowing we’d both rather die.”

The lyrics descend into your bones and blood, causing a deep and shaky breath to manifest itself inside your lungs. It’s foul, knowing that these lyrics are directed at you. Poetry written in the form of music that only you of all people can understand.

Lyrics and poetry, a simple combination that creates a longing in your heart. A longing to know why, to know what prompts Hange to be the person they are.

You do know why. Despite the fact you haven’t spoken in years, you do know why Hange acts the way they do. You know they crave love the same way you do, even if they pretend it’s all faux. You know this song is written for you.

A sip of your drink brings down the lump that infects your throat. Twisted and sickening nausea grows in your body, but the question plaguing your brain stays the same throughout the entirety of the song.

Why did they invite you here?

Was it some bilious game that they’re playing? Hange knew very well what kind of person you were, that you never fully let things, or people, go. Everything sits in your heart eternally, no matter the outcome of a relationship. Good, bad, you still care for each and every person that once had a place in your heart.

Hange knows this.

They know better than anyone.

A sniffle flees your nose, but you push back any tears that threaten to fall. Hange finally breaks the eye contact that they held so tightly with you, looking out to the rest of the bar.

You see the remnants of high school still in them. The scar on their right hand, the hair that was once much longer, the bittersweetness of their glasses, still the same frames. 

You take another sip of your drink, letting out a soft sigh. You let the crash of the drums rattle, the bass boom through the speakers, the added touch of keyboard flowing into your ears. Of course, the main show is the electric guitar. The main show is Hange.

Only for a moment, you enjoy the music. Ignoring all other aspects of the scene you find yourself in, and letting yourself release.

The song ends with a final blow to the drums and an ending chord. Cheers and applause crackle from the bar, with a couple whistles thrown in as well. 

The applause dying down finally gives you a moment to rest in your thoughts, picking at your nail bed and licking your lips. Talking with Hange was foreboding, a dark presence looming over your figure as if the devil was sitting on your shoulder.

—————————

play for emma by bon iver

You finish off your drink with a bitter swallow, dreading the upcoming interaction you know is coming. Cold air flushes into the bar as the door opens and closes, several groups leaving for the night.

A warm hand taps you on the shoulder, and there they were. You turn your head to see Hange, right there, staring back at you. Being this close to them is suffocating, the smell of cigarettes and a faint tinge of pine surrounding them.

“You came,” they say in a breathless whisper.

“You invited me,” you reply softly, shame encircling your heart and soul.

It’s the change you’ve sworn your whole life that you hated. Hange used to be a good change in your life, but now you wish that you could extricate all of the memories with them into the winds.

“Can we talk somewhere more private?”

You look at them, seeing the few droplets of sweat on their forehead being partially covered from their bangs. Hesitation crosses over you, something you’ve never done when it comes to Hange. Despite the pause, you still nod your head, accepting defeat.

You step off of the barstool and follow their lead to the tiny powder room behind the stage. It has two full length mirrors, two plush velvet couches, and even dimmer lighting than the bar itself. You seat yourself on the couch, across from Hange.

“I just want to get this out of the way first,” they pause, removing their gaze from the coffee table to your eyes. “Why did you run last night?”

You open your mouth, preparing yourself to lie through your teeth, but they cut you off.

“And I want the truth.”

You bite your lip, their demeanor serious and frightening. Hange is never like this.

You’re already here. Might as well be honest.

“I didn’t want to say something I’d regret later.” Silence engulfs the room, you watch their face contort slightly into a look of confusion, but change back to the intimidating one hastily.

Silence truly is deafening.

“Like what?”

The question strikes fear in you, fearful of their judging manner and how they would yell and scream in pure anger.

But Hange isn’t like that. 

“That you fucked me over,” you reply bluntly. Your confidence is a frontage, a lie from the depths of your bones.

Their previously angry face falters, a rare look of concern spreading across their features. The same features that you still love so wholly.

“How did I fuck you over,” it’s not a question. A demand, a desire to know the whole truth from your side of the story.

Your hands quiver and shake in your lap, feeling the squeamish need to escape as fast as possible. To run again.

“You left me when I needed you.”

Your words are a stab to their heart. Hange’s years of built up walls crumble before you, leaving a new version of them that you’ve never seen before. Out of all the years of knowing Hange, you’ve never seen them cry.

“I know,” they choke out. Hange tears their gaze away from you again. Your hands crave to touch them again, to soothe their woes until nothing is left but joy. You disgust yourself, knowing that you feel bad for them.

“I am so, so, sorry, Y/N.”

Their sobs come out quiet, a slip from their usual persona. You find yourself fighting your own tears. The words that you’ve yearned to hear for years, finally easing from their mouth to bless your ears. 

You hold out a hand before retracting it just as quickly, fearing that you would ruin them even more. Seeing Hange buckle before you, the same way you buckle before them, it was oddly satisfying. Knowing that they desire the same closure you do, that they recognize they’re wrong.

It’s different.

But in all the good ways.

They rest their head in their hands, tears falling from their cheeks from years of pent up sorrow. Your heart aches, fighting the impulses to grab them and never let go for all of eternity.

The impulses win.

You stand from the couch, walking over to Hange and sitting down next to them. You wrap your arm around their back, the other around their chest, and pull them close. They collapse onto you, their head resting atop your shoulder as their sobs stain your jacket.

I forgive you.

“It’s okay.”

I love you.

“You’re alright.”

Your unspoken words fall into the depths of your brain, out of sight, but not forgotten. Hange falling into your arms again felt so right, even if it was different. 

“You played wonderfully tonight.”

A snort escapes them, briefly pausing the cacophony of sobs that they were letting out.

“I fucked up a chord.”

“I know. I could tell from your face.”

They only smile at you, the need for words long forgotten as they wipe away their tears.

“I’ve really, really, missed you.”

Hange’s statement is a whisper, and as much as you want to believe them, you know you can’t.

mutable | chapter three

[cosmosorbitt]

thank u so much buddy

hey @cosmosorbitt, I don't know what a "goon material" is, but here's your commission!

The full-sized body pillow is coming in the mail, so be ready!

[cosmosorbitt]

mutable | hange x fem reader

here is chapter two! I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for the support on the last one! hange x fem reader

wc: 4360

tags: modern au, fluff, first dates

cross posted on ao3

chapter two - live well

you’re something, i’m nothing

we’re everything

play live well by palace

August 2017

It started as a hallway crush. The first time you saw Hange was on the way to your math class, the hallways just as crowded as an interstate during rush hour. You trudge down the hallways behind a couple walking at a snail’s pace.

Then you look over and lock eyes.

 It was only a glance, a moments worth of eye contact. Even though it was only a second, you felt butterflies flit throughout your stomach.

The entirety of your math class was spent thinking of those rich chestnut eyes that made eye contact with yours. The teacher talking became background noise in your mind, your thoughts locked on the person that gave you a mere glance. Their glasses flashed a glint at you, sitting atop their deliciously hooked nose. The dark, silky hair that was pulled back into a ponytail with bangs in the front, it was so alluring.

It was a brand new feeling. Something that enticed you and drew you closer with no intention of stopping. Your insides crave to know more about them, to see who they truly were and how they acted.

For someone that had only given you a quick glance in the hallway, they had already planted themselves firmly in your mind. What about them had drawn you so close already? 

The bell signaling the end of your class pierced through your ears. You immediately pack your bag and leave the class, scouting the hallways for the same mysterious person that had captivated you. Your eyes continue to scan the hallways as students spill out of classrooms everywhere, but no sight of them. 

You sigh in defeat as you head to your next class, dragging your feet through the hallways until you reach the science room. 

Lo and behold, there they were, sitting at a lab table with a shorter boy, dark hair covering the top of his head and ending just above his eyebrows. Your breath hitches slightly as you sit at the table behind them, setting your bag on the floor. 

You sat next to a friend from middle school, Moblit. Ever since he had gotten his license, he’s taken you home from school. His hair was neat, bangs sitting comfortably on his forehead with a navy blue shirt and black sweatpants. You weren’t very close, not nearly enough to hang out outside of school, but he was always a comfortable presence. 

You greet him softly, making small talk about your classes for the year and the ones you would have together.

The teacher talks endlessly about the syllabus, but the only thing that lingers on your mind is the brunette sitting right in front of you. Each strand of hair is memorized by the time the teacher finally finished talking, after what seemed like ages.

You watch as the person in front of you turns around, and you get another look at the beauty that is their face. Sharp features accentuate their entire being, keeping your gaze glued to them as they face you. You look at their clothes, analyzing each fold and crease in them. They wore a white band t-shirt, severely oversized jeans, and a black leather jacket to top it all off. You give them another once over before averting your gaze to the desk.

“Moblit! You should’ve told me you had this class!” They exclaim.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting a junior to be in honors chemistry. Shouldn’t you have taken this last year?”

“Uh, I was busy. My schedule was full, asshole.”

Their gaze shifts to you, those same deep, brown eyes staring into yours. You felt a little nervous, but give a small smile. They flash you with a cheeky grin in response before turning back to the boy next to them, noting the way their gaze lingers a moment longer than needed.

The shrill bell echoes in your ears once again, and you pack up your belongings before lunch. You watch as the duo leaves the classroom, strolling out without a care in the world.

“Who was that?” You whisper to Moblit.

“Huh? That’s Hange.”

Hange.

The name slips into your mind with ease, settling itself within the folds of your brain.

“Hange…” you mutter to yourself, letting the name fall out of your mouth and graze the tip of your tongue.

“Why do you ask?” Moblit questions, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“No reason.”

—————————

play shark smile - edit by big thief

You go throughout the rest of the day with an intense curiosity of Hange. An incredibly unique name for an incredibly unique person. They were so different, perhaps that was what had drawn you to them.

Their voice had a certain melody that flows from their mouth into the open world. The sheer enthusiasm and confidence that erupts from their vocal cords shocks you, only intriguing you further.

Even as the final bell rang, you pause at your desk, unable to rip yourself out from the sea of thoughts that swam through you. A slight nudge to your shin finally snaps you out of it, and you look to see Moblit beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, “You look.. Lost.”

“Yeah. I’m fine, just tired is all.”

You walk out beside Moblit as he chats with a few friends, but you stay quiet all the while. Who was Hange? How did they know Moblit? How had you never seen them before?

“… Y/N?”

“What?”

Moblit gives you a worried smile, “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past two minutes.”

“Sorry,” you utter the apology, although you weren’t completely sure what you were apologizing for. You slide into the passenger seat of his slightly dingy car, settling your backpack onto your lap and directing your eyes to the window.

Moblit has driven you home so many times, he could do it blindfolded. The hot remnants of summer fell over his car, coating your forehead with a few beads of sweat.

“How do you know Hange?” You ask before you can even begin to think of how stupid you sound. You felt weirdly giddy to know more about them.

Moblit doesn’t peel his eyes away from the road for a second, even when he responds.

“I’ve known them since we were kids. Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Just curious.”

I don’t know. 

The truth is, you do know. You just don’t want to admit it. They were different, a light that shines in the darkness. The sight of your house coming closer sends a wave of relief crashing over your body, thankful for the excuse to get away from the conversation. You thank Moblit for the ride, heading inside your house and making a beeline for your room.

The familiar surroundings comfort you as your bag slips off your shoulders and onto the floor. It elicits a soft thud before you flop onto your bed, immediately fishing your phone out of your pocket. You open Instagram, quickly switching to the search tab.

Hange was a unique name, it should be easy to find.

Your fingers slide over the keys as you look up the name.

h.zoe

Bingo.

Their account was barren, no highlights and no posts. Their profile picture was of them at a sunset as they look the opposite way, depriving you of the privilege to see their face again.

The thing that intrigued you, however, was the fact that another one of your old friends from freshman year was following them.

Followed by historyuhhh, moblit_b, and others.

Historia is timid, soft spoken, and more of a bookworm than anything else. You don’t know Hange very well, but they seem like quite the odd pair of friends.

You stare at your screen a moment longer before turning it off and staring up at the ceiling. An odd fuzziness tingles throughout your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You longed to see them again, that tiny interaction sitting in your mind until it overwhelmed you enough to fall asleep.

—————————

Your mother woke you up a couple hours later for dinner, the quiet hum of the refrigerator filling your ears as you sit in your usual spot.

This was something that had never changed. Your unassigned assigned seat, it was something that stayed the same no matter what, and you preferred it that way.

It wasn’t that you necessarily hated change, but having something as small as a seat at the dinner table that had stayed consistent felt important to you. It was an unspoken rule, in a way.

Change wasn’t all bad. Your younger sister living with her dad wasn’t expected, but it kept the house quieter. You didn’t mind.

At least that’s what you convinced yourself.

People are never consistent. You’ve learned that the hard way. People change and discover new things about themselves, and who they surround themselves with. You hated it. The constant change, every new person that comes into your life changes in some way or another, people are so inconsistent.

You try to be as flexible as possible for others, life changes and that’s just the way things go. Sometimes other things come up, something more important.

But why can’t people put you first?

You swallow the bite of food you had taken, excusing yourself and putting away your dishes before heading back to your room. You stare at your phone again, the temptation to do something spontaneous gnaws at you.

But that would require change.

—————————

play bags by clairo

The next few days were filled with anticipation and that god-sent lovesickness swirling throughout your body and mind. It was a Friday, and the buzz of the first week of school began to die down.

Chemistry was now the highlight of your day, skipping to take your seat behind the brunette and turning your attention to theirs endlessly.

You scour the back of their head, each follicle of hair pulled into their messy ponytail and the way it fell out in scattered strands so perfectly. Whenever Moblit tried to talk to you, he had to yank you out of your own head.

You smile to yourself as your eyes bore into the back of their head, your legs bouncing up and down repeatedly. It’s such an illustrious feeling, inviting in all the right ways and warm in all the right places.

“…Hello? Are you listening?” Moblit finally snaps.

“Sorry, what?”

A sigh leaves his lips before he starts talking again. “My car’s in the shop, so neither of us have a ride home.”

“Well, shit, Moblit. What are-“

“I can take you guys home,” Hange chimes in. 

A fluttery feeling erupts in your stomach and bile threatens to come shooting out of your throat. Hange, taking you home? You couldn’t have been more lucky.

You look to Moblit before the rational side of you finally takes over and you look back to Hange.

“You don’t have to, we can find a ride,” you blubber, attempting not to seem like a complete asshole and an idiot.

“No, seriously. It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

You glance over at Moblit again, biting your lip. He sighs before nodding.

“Okay.”

Hange finally turns around in their seat, blessing your eyes with Aphrodite’s child before you.

“Y/N, right?” they smirk.

“Yeah, how did you-“

“Don’t worry about it,” they stare into your eyes before winking at you. Your mouth parts in shock, but you close it before they can see your action.

They smile before turning back around in their seat and focusing on the worksheet in front of them. You put your head in your hands, your mind running rampant with everything that just happened.

Oh my fucking god.

Did they catch you staring one too many times? Had they found out that you were stalking their instagram from top to bottom? Were you that oblivious to your own idiocy?

Only then did it hit you that Moblit’s house was much closer to the school than your own, meaning that Hange would likely drop him off first before you.

How were you not supposed to make a fool of yourself? Being in a car with someone as attractive as Hange creates a sense of unease in of itself, but the fact that you had a mind numbing crush on them certainly didn’t help. 

This being your first time alone with Hange was certainly not ideal either. Having Moblit tag along would be nice, but he wasn’t always great with social cues. You had hoped for a much more romantic moment, but the universe certainly loved to keep you at an arm’s length from everything you want.

A sigh passes through your lips, and you instinctively bite your lip again. You look over at Moblit. He has a weirdly happy expression? Not only that, but traces of relief are etched onto his face. 

What on Earth is going on with him?

You groan internally to yourself, feeling your abdomen curl in on itself in embarrassment. Swallowing the embarrassment in your throat, you lay your head on the desk before you, contemplating if this was worth it.

There wasn’t another way to get home, though. They did bring up the offer themselves, but it still felt odd. Something about this was too much like a book, everything was being handed to you on a silver platter.

It was too perfect.

The bell ruptures the silence that had encapsulated your mind and the classroom, reminding yourself of the fact that you were still a student. That being said, you need to knock some sense into yourself and realize it was just some stupid crush. Although your heart yearns for Hange, to know more about them, you’re hesitant in the same way a baby takes its first steps.

The hallways are truly your worst enemy. A pure definition of how interchangeable and ignorant others can be. People shoving each other, walking in the middle of the hallway, and walking slow enough to put them in a retirement home. You grumble a curse under your breath as you maneuver through the jungle of people to the cafeteria.

It’s small and extremely crowded, which is surprising considering its majority of freshmen and sophomores like yourself. Only upperclassmen are allowed to leave campus for lunch, which causes your mind to wander back to Hange.

What were they doing now? Did they go out for lunch? It lingers in your mind for a moment too long before a tap on the shoulder launches you back into reality. Your head snaps in the direction to see Moblit, again.

“Hi. So — I might be busy after school.” He says it quietly, a hint of shame in his voice as he utters the sentence. You watch him fiddle with the hem of his shirt as fury rages through your blood.

“Seriously, Moblit? You’re leaving me with someone I don’t even know?” You huff out the last few words, staring daggers dead into the pupils of his eyes.

“It’s not-“ He starts, but the venom boiling in your body cuts him off.

“No, Moblit. That’s an asshole move,” you spat, your hands clenching into knuckles.

“Listen, it’s,” he trails off, taking a deep breath and grabbing your wrist. You swear at him as he drags you to a corner.

“It’s a date. A date with.. uh, a guy.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“Fuck, Moblit. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, I would’ve been pissed too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just..” You trail off to take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, “I’ll suck it up. See you tomorrow.” And with that, you direct your stride to the opposite direction of the cafeteria, towards the bathroom.

Bathroom stalls have been your saving grace for most of middle and high school so far. It’s a moment of relaxation where you’re alone, and allows you to collect your thoughts into a single jumble instead of hundreds of them.

The stalls are unsurprisingly gross, but you stand, staring at your phone and biting your cheek. It was rude of Moblit to ditch you, even if it was because he was going on a date. For fuck’s sake.

—————————

Hange meets you by the front doors of the school, and you walk up to them with the same shame of a kicked puppy.

Their truck isn’t far, just across the street. However, the silence between the two of you only being broken by your shared footsteps left an awkwardness that created a pit deep in your stomach.

You take a deep breath before climbing into the passenger seat of their car as the engine sparks to life with a loud rumble.

play conditions of my parole by puscifer 

Their truck smelled like cigarettes, the scent staining into the seating and a hint of alcohol and cannabis left the stench lingering in your nose for longer than expected. You notice a used pack sitting on the floor of the truck by your feet, but push it to the side with your shoe and set your bag down in place of it.

Once their truck roars, the radio clicks on and loud dad rock fills the once awkward silence in the car. The bass shakes your seat and reverberates in your bones, eliciting a small giggle from you as Hange hastily turns down the volume.

“Sorry, I like my music loud,” they mutter, a small flush appearing on their cheeks. Hange settles themself properly into the driver’s seat, clicking their seatbelt into place.

“I’m not complaining,” you say fondly as a smile twitches at the corners of your lips. 

A smirk creeps up their cheeks as they turn the music back up, not as loud as before, but enough to make your seat shake from the bass again. You follow their lead and buckle yourself into your seat swiftly.

“Who am I to turn down a pretty lady?” 

You feel a warmth spread across your cheeks, but you look out the window to hide it. They pull out of their parking spot and you take the opening to look back at them to see their side profile in all of its glory. Their jawline was sharp enough to cut you, their nose jutting out in a way that’s sharp and incredibly attractive.

Hange began down the road, but a realization hits you with full-force.

“Where are we going? You don’t know where my house is.” The beat of the bass and the tumbling of rocks by the road make your voice shaky, following the same movements the truck made.

“We’re getting food first,” they remark with a smirk.

“I don’t have money on me,” you retort.

“Who said you were paying?” Hange snickers, the sound slithering into the air with a hiss. Their smooth voice falls upon your ears and you turn your head to look them in the eyes for any sign of a joke.

You stare at them skeptically, quivering a brow at the way their eagerness changed the whole mood in the car to a playful tone.

“Isn’t that like, a date rule?” You ask, desperate for a new topic that wouldn’t involve the rising heat at the top of your ears.

“I mean, I didn’t say that this wasn’t a date,” they reply snarkily, their pride evident in their voice.

“Oh my god,” you chuckle, trying your absolute best to hide the fact your heart was screaming at you to freak out, to fangirl over your crush and kick your feet in exhilaration.

It didn’t feel real. It was so new and sickening to your core, the pit in your stomach growing deeper and deeper the longer you sat in their truck. When they finally hit a red light, they peel their eyes from the road to look at you, allowing you to see their eyes from a good angle once again. The smell of their car felt suffocating, trapping you inside until you choke on it.

Why did they make you so damn nervous?

“Is it working?” They query with a cheeky grin.

“Is what working?” You respond with a slight quiver in your voice.

“My flirting.”

Once the last syllable escapes their lips, they turn the volume up further, leaving you in their passenger seat as the music blares into your ear. The traffic light turns green and Hange takes the turn into a small diner.

The bright red neon light in the front read Braus Diner. It was out in an older part of town, tiles of the front cracked and some were already biting the dust as they lay on the ground. 

Ragako was a small town as is, but even this kind of diner was a little drab for the countryside. It was still August, so there was a good bit of summer that hung in the air before the cooler chill of fall comes to settle in.

They led you inside the diner, the tile floor squeaking beneath your shoes as the bell above the front door jingled. That small jingle would signal the start of your date with Hange.

play there is a light that never goes out by the smiths

The swish of the door closing behind you allows for the warm air to flow into the air conditioned foyer of the diner. A shiver runs through your body as Hange seats themself across the booth, and you look at the years of scratches scraped into the table.

“Have you been here before?” Their knee brushes against yours. A touch so gentle that it almost goes unnoticed, only something that you could feel.

“Once or twice,” you pause. “It’s cozy,” you add on after.

They flick up the menu in front of them in a dramatic fashion, scrutinizing the list of dishes that were served. You glance down at the menu as well, but it was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Moblit’s car suddenly breaks down. He suddenly has a date after school even with his apparent absence of a car. Hange, the person who had been living in your mind the past few days suddenly decided to take you home and out to eat?

It was far too perfect. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

You tear your eyes from the menu and to the body before you, taking in their appearance today. Another band t-shirt, green cargos that were easily three sizes too big, and a chunky belt that stretched over their waist.

“I have a question,” you start, not really sure where your train of thought was going, but enduring it anyway.

“Well, I think I’ve eaten everything on this menu once. I can help you with that,” they say with a chuckle.

“It’s not about that,” you mutter, a pink tink dusted over your cheeks as you avert your gaze back to the table.

“Oh. Okay. What’s up?”

You contemplate whether or not to continue with the words that threatened to explode out of your throat, trying to settle them down before it snapped and you rambled on and on.

You bite your cheek for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Was this a set up?”

Hange’s facade fell, a blank expression taking over their once prideful and cocky one. Their mouth dropped open for a moment before closing it again. You stare at them, knitting your brows. The only sound in the diner was the clicking of utensils and music playing in the background.

“Well?”

Hange finally opens their mouth again. Avoiding your dagger stare into their soul, they speak up.

“Kind of. But not in the way you think.”

You sigh out a huff of frustration, fiddling with the small hoop earrings that fell from your earlobes.

“Okay. Then what way is it?” You reply calmly, shoving down the venom of words that edged your vocal cords.

The waitress interrupts just as their lips separate to speak again. She was short, pale skinned, with brown hair pulled into a ponytail. The name tag read Sasha. 

“What can I get you to drink today?” she cheers, a stark contrast to the previous conversation you were immersed in.

“Water, please.”

“Sweet tea, thank you.”

She nods, going into the kitchen. You turn your gaze immediately back to Hange. Their brows were furrowed, the once confident persona gone and replaced with a new bashfulness.

“It’s.. well. Okay. I saw you on that first day of school. I thought you were really pretty. I talked to Moblit about it, and he helped me.. set up this. A date. This date. Jesus — I’m rambling,” Hange huffs out the last words as they spill from their mouth in a frantic manner.

“That is the shittiest way to get a girl on a date,” you say after a long pause of silence.

Their signature cheeky smile returns to their face. 

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, you basically kidnapped me. So where is Moblit actually?”

They keep that same stupidly wide grin on their face before responding.

“That part wasn’t a lie. He’s on a date.”

Your eyebrows raise up, and you let a low whistle loose from your lips.

“Well, good for him.”

Sasha pads over to your table, setting down both of your drinks in front of you. You take a sip of your water, letting the drink soothe the previous bile in your throat. Looking back to Hange, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face when they’re already looking at you.

“So. Uh — what’s your favorite color?”

The simple question elicits a giggle from you. Simplicity at its finest, a normal first date question.

“Is that your attempt to flirt?” You tease, kicking their shin gently under the table.

“I think my effort is paying off. Based on your blush.”

Smooth.

You only laugh in response, gazing at them again. Their glasses hid their eyes in the dim lighting of the diner, leaving you staring at an empty shell of their face.

Even so, you know that they still look the same. 

Unchanging.

mutable chapter 2

[cosmosorbitt]

hi all, was planning on posting mutable ch2 earlier this week, but i’m on vacation, so it’ll have to wait

see you all soon! 🩷

[cosmosorbitt]

hange eat me out challenge GO!

[cosmosorbitt]

mutable | hange x fem reader

i abandoned my old fic bc i hated it 🩷 here’s a new one ty guys bye

hange x fem reader

wc: 3286

tags: modern au, angst

cross posted on ao3

mutable - liable to change 

chapter one - lover, you should’ve come over 

broken down and hungry for your love 

but no way to feed it 

play neverrr everrr by villagerrr 

November 2025 

“Is that all for you today?” you inquire to the customer standing before you. Long, blonde locks sprouting from her head, framing her face perfectly, and blue eyes bright enough to make the sky envious of their shade. She was a regular, Historia. A quiet girl, but headstrong nonetheless.

“Yep!” she responds cheerily, a smile gracing her lips. Your attention flickers to the prominent smile lines etched into her face, signifying the endless joy and laughter she’s experienced throughout the years.

“Do you have your library card on you?” The words had become so familiar, spilling out of your mouth without ever thinking about how much you say them. Every day is filled with the same memorized routine and sentences, you could sing them in your sleep at this point.

Historia doesn’t respond, instead handing you the card politely over the counter. You take it between your fingers, punching the string of numbers into your computer before someone much taller comes up beside Historia. Though, you finish putting the numbers into the computer before looking up again.

You hand the card back and take a quick glance at the girl beside the blonde. She had a warm complexion, freckles adorning every inch of her cheeks, and short brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She had never been here before, as far as you knew. After exchanging a farewell with Historia, they leave arm-in-arm, taking the books Historia had checked out as the little bell above the door rings to announce their departure.

You turn and look at the cart of books needing to be shelved, deciding to take up the task. You grab the cart and wheel it towards the hauntingly endless shelves before you.

You had always loved libraries, each section was always organized. Fantasy, teen, romance, biography, each aisle had its own genre, and was perfectly sorted from A-Z, you had made sure of it. It was methodical, everything had its own place and origin.

You take the cart down the first aisle, peeking at the labels to find exactly where it had belonged, shelving it in the designated spot. You continue down each aisle until every book that once laid on the cart was put in its proper place.

————————————

Two Days Later 

Historia comes into the library again, holding the books she had previously rented. A couple textbooks, and a romance novel. She sets them gently on the front desk, waving to you.

“How was this one?” you hold up the romance novel, glancing at it before scanning it back into the system.

“It was so cute! You should read it, Y/N, you’d love it!” she beams. You give her a skeptical ‘ what are you talking’ about look. She knows your taste in books. Specifically, your distaste for romance in particular. There’s always some cringey or unsettling trope that has to carry the story. It’s too perfect.

“Aw, come on! Give it a try!” Historia attempts to persuade you with a pouty face. You roll your eyes as obviously as possible, making your own feelings clear without the need for words.

“Yeah, sure. Have fun with your exams coming up,” you grumble. You scan the textbooks back into the system, a disgruntled sigh leaving your lips. Historia gives you a final pout before striding out of the library and meeting with someone just outside the door. It was that same brown haired girl again. You bite your cheek as a different but all too familiar feeling churns in your stomach.

Jealousy .

Why on earth would you be jealous of that? Were you seriously jealous of a couple? It felt like you were in high school all over again.

You rid your head of the thought with a slight head shake, taking the returned books and creeping down to the familiar aisles to shelf them. You walk down the textbook aisle, eyeing the cover. Calculus Basics , yuck. You put it with the “C” books and continue onwards to find the proper places for the rest of the books.

After shelving the rest of the textbooks, you walk back to the romance aisle to put the last book away, but stare at it for a moment. Would it be worth it to try? You sigh heavily, putting it away with the rest of the romance.

“Can you help me find something?” an oddly familiar voice calls out to you from behind. The smell of cigarette smoke fills your nose, confusing you. Why would a smoker be in a library of all places? The voice is slightly raspy, but deeper than most people’s. You jump slightly as you turn around and find an all too familiar face staring you in the eyes.

Hange Zoe.

Your first ever partner.

“Hey, wait. Y/N?”

play lover, you should’ve come over by jeff buckley 

This was not the Hange you had known in high school. The Hange you had known was scrawny, nerdy, and above all else, afraid of commitment. Ironically, they have tattoos all over their arms and chest, sleeves adorning roses and music notes. That surely was a commitment. You scan over their much shorter brown hair, tied messily into a half bun. As you scrutinize their face, a small ball of silver catches your eye, and it shocks you to see a small eyebrow piercing contrasting their smooth face. They were much taller, and more toned. Not too obviously muscular, but subtle in the way their shirt sleeves roll up to their forearms. However, the most shocking of all, is the black leather eyepatch that stretches over their left eye.

“… Y/N?” Their voice snaps you out of the sea of thoughts consuming you.

“Ah. Um, yeah, it’s me,” you mutter softly, unsure if your voice could physically go any higher.

“You’re working in a library? That was always your dream,” they chuckle.

“Yeah. You look very.. um. Different.”

“Oh, yeah. College will do that to you.”

You nod uncomfortably, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. The ground must be calling your name with the way that it was retaining your attention so well.

“So.” You look up. “We should get drinks or something, catch up, y’know?” they ramble, words tumbling out of their mouth before you can process it fast enough. They’re almost too similar to the way they used to be mentally. It’s weird looking at them now, someone you knew everything about, but now, it seems just like an empty shell of a person. Every like and dislike is different, the same way their appearance had changed over the years.

“I get off at six,” you blurt out. Something inside you was so drawn to them, yearning for the sweet release of being able to talk to them again after years apart. Guilt swims in your stomach, after such a long time without seeing one another, why do you feel guilty now?

Truth is, you get off at five. But you were too entranced with the fact your first love was standing right before you and talking to you, for the first time since your junior year of high school. The guilt eats at you, but why? They had broken up with you , why are you the one feeling guilty as it tries to consume you whole? 

“Wanna go to Tybur Tavern?” they question. You had heard about it, sure, but never bothered to go. Bars were fun, definitely, but not without friends. Which you seemed to have a concerningly low amount of.

“Yeah. Um, yeah, that’s fine. We can meet at 6:30,” you swallow before you can stutter and embarrass yourself more than you already had. 

“Sweet, I’ll see you there, yeah?” They pronounce it fondly. Too fondly, what on earth were they thinking? “Oh, I still need help finding something, though.”

“Oh. Right, right. What is it?”

“I.. uh, I need a book on how to quit smoking.”

You snort involuntarily. Then a giggle, then you burst into laughter. You can’t remember the last time you saw Hange without a pack of cigarettes, even in high school. The smell followed them everywhere, it had been a comfort for you when you’d dated. You reminisce on kissing their lips, the taste of tobacco and nicotine constantly transferring to your own. Your laughter finally dies down, and you look back to them, they’re wearing a blank expression.

“You’re serious?” you question.

“Yes, I’m fucking serious,” they bite back, a sharp sound cutting through your ears.

“Sorry. Sorry, I just… I can’t remember when you’ve ever gone without a pack,” you utter the apology, shameful of the way you had neglected the fact it would be true. “I’ll show you where it is, I think we should have one.”

You lead the way down the “Self Help” aisle, searching the shelves until you find the “S” section. After a few moments of scanning, you pull the book from the shelf and hold it out to them. 

“I’m sorry. Again. That was an asshole move,” you mumble.

“I can’t really say I’m surprised, I would be shocked to find out I was quitting too. Sorry for snapping at you,” they reply softly.

As you both begin to walk towards the front to check out, you ask the question that’s been bugging you.

“Why are you quitting?”

They sigh, looking at you with their single eye as you go behind the counter.

“Uh.. I’m in a band, and our lead singer quit. I have to fill in. Can’t really do that with shitty lungs.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage to slip past your lips. They had always loved music, so it made sense, but they certainly weren’t a singer. “I don’t believe you have a library card?”

“No. Why the hell would I have a library card?” They snort.

You chuckle in response, taking a new card from a drawer and putting their information into the computer. It’s still memorized from all those years ago.

Hange Zoe, 9/5/2001.  

Their full name and birthday, something you could never forget no matter how hard you try. You hand the card to them. Their hand brushes yours, sparks shoot through your hand, and it feels like they hold it for a moment longer than necessary.

“Don’t lose it, it’s a five dollar fee for a new one.”

“Oh, big whoop, five dollars, I’m gonna go broke,” they tease. You can see they’re still the same person from high school, a jokester at heart. “See you tonight,” and with that, they walk out the door, book in hand. The bell rings as it closes. Immediately, guilt eats at you once again. Only then did you come to the realization of what you had just done.

What the fuck am I doing? 

————————————

play isn’t it a pity by george harrison 

You stare at yourself in the floor length mirror in your room. A jean skirt, black tights, a black tank top, and a leather jacket. Was it too much? Too little? 

You groan softly, why did you care so much? You weren’t dating, just old friends. Old friends going out for drinks at the bar. Old friends .

You sigh, snatching your phone next to you and unlocking it with a swift swipe. You scrutinize your screen, your gaze set on the Instagram app. Without a moment wasted, you open it and navigate straight to the search.

hans_zoe 

Hans, the same nickname you had used for them when you had been dating. The nickname you made for them. There the account was, in all its glory, still with no posts, but now new highlights for you to explore. Your shaking hand taps on the first highlight, named “H.Z.” It’s not a long highlight, just a couple posts, but they’re jaw dropping. The first is a picture of them playing guitar for what you can only assume is their band, a bright green light shining atop their features, specifically the hooked nose you know far too well. 

Tapping through their highlights ignites a wave of nostalgia that shoots through your whole body. The tingle in your chest and stomach never ceases, and you swallow your pride away. You lock your phone and stare up at the ceiling, what was wrong with you?

More importantly, how were you supposed to get through tonight without making an utter fool of yourself?

————————————

You park your car outside of the tavern, feeling the chill of the November air bite at your skin and lungs as you step out and lock your car. The sun is in the process of setting, cascading the whole town into an orange glow. You walk up to the front and spot Hange, smoking a cigarette.

Some things never change. 

“What happened to quitting?” you tease as you step closer to them.

“It starts tomorrow,” Hange jokes back, the cigarette between their lips slightly muffling their words. They take a quick drag before stubbing it out in the ground and tossing it into a nearby trash can.

“Unfortunately, my favorite bartender isn’t working tonight. So there’s no way to escape if you need it,” they state matter of factly.

“Oh great, hopefully you aren’t here to kidnap me.”

“Maybe. Depends on my mood after a few drinks.”

You snort as you’re seated at a booth, sitting across from Hange. Your gaze involuntarily travels to their eyepatch, the new addition to their face sticking out like a sore thumb. 

“You’re staring.”

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t-“

“No, no, it’s fine. Are you curious?”

Of course you were curious. Who in their right mind would ever wear that in public? To be fair, Hange was never particularly normal, but this was different, even for them.

“Yeah. Is it for your band or something?” They laugh in response, a real, genuine laugh. Not some small chuckle or giggle, it’s true to themself.

“No, we aren’t fucking pirates or anything. I had surgery on it a while ago, they uh. They messed up, fucked my eye up real bad. It’s got a nasty scar on it now,” Hange says it so effortlessly, as if it was nothing. Did it really feel like nothing to them?

“Jesus, I’m sorry, that’s awful,” you reply solemnly.

Just as Hange opens their mouth to talk, a server comes up to you both. Joyful greetings are exchanged before she asks for your orders..

“Just some fries, and a beer,” Hange looks to you. “And a shirley temple for the lady.” The waiter nods and walks away.

“You still remember my favorite?” You ask shyly.

“Yeah, duh. Making homemade shirley temples in your dad’s basement is like, a core memory.” You laugh softly, it’s a real laugh, similar to the one Hange had let escape earlier. No part of it is fake or forced, but true laughter that comes from your heart.

“Yeah, and you taking all my dad’s beer so I could get an ass whooping the next day,” you retort, giggling at the memory.

“He has good taste! His beer is simply delightful .”

“Right,” you giggle again, the chat between you two flowing effortlessly for a while. The music of the tavern is warm and inviting, allowing for the comfortable atmosphere to really soak into your bones.

“What kind of music do you play? For your band, I mean,” you ask politely.

“Depends. Sometimes it’s rock, sometimes it’s softer, it’s based on where we play.”

“So, do you like, go on tour?”

“ Hell no. Are you kidding?” You laugh loudly as they take a large swig of beer. Once your laughter dies down you take a sip of your drink. “First of all, we’re not nearly big enough for that. Secondly, I refuse to do anything for huge crowds, bars are plenty good to play at anyway.”

“Well, who all is in your band?”

“There’s me, obviously. I play guitar. Ymir plays the drums, Annie plays bass, and Historia’s on the keyboard.”

“Wait. Historia? You’re shitting me.”

“What? Are you shitting me?”

“She comes into the library like, every other day, never would’ve never thought she was in a rock band.”

“It’s not all rock, come on now,” they reply slyly, a grin stretching across their face. You laugh again, sipping on your drink again. You were on your third by now, Hange was surely on their fourth or fifth.

“What about the lead singer? Who was it?”

“Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman. She quit because of her dumbass boyfriend. He’s a real piece of work, I’ll tell you that,” you giggle at the description, letting the alcohol calm your previous nerves and releasing held back laughter.

“Wait, you were in choir in high school.”

“Hange, I’m not joining your fucking rock band. I don’t even know the name of it.”

“I just told you it’s not all rock! Come on, please?”

“Even if I did, I can’t sing in front of crowds.”

“You literally did at choir concerts!”

“That doesn’t count! Theres like, twenty other people on stage with me.”

The banter between the two of you continues, ending off with a final swig of Hange’s beer followed by them ordering another round of drinks.

“Hange, I can’t afford another round, these are like, five bucks each.”

“I’m paying,” their lips curve into a smirk, the same one you admired all those years ago. The same smirk they’d give you before they kissed you softly.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s just a little sorry gift.”

“Sorry gift?” You snort, “For what?”

“For high school.”

Your heart drops, the same feeling you got the day they left. The empty pit in your stomach feels apparent now more than ever, when they had left your house that night with a final goodbye. A promise not to talk anymore after, leaving just as the sun set and the darkness surrounded your town and clawed at your heart. 

“What?”

play look on down from the bridge by mazzy star 

“Seriously,” they start, “I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have left you like that. It was really shitty of me.”

“Hange, it was a high school relationship, it’s fine,” you reply softly. But really, it wasn’t fine, Perhaps it was the alcohol seeping into your blood, but it didn’t feel fine. Hange was right, they shouldn’t have left you like that. Not when you had needed them most, when you felt like the devil himself was dragging you down into the pits of hell.

“Yeah. I just-“

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you cut them off, standing up from the booth. You knew this was going to happen, something was going to be brought up, something about the fact you loved each other more than anything else in the world, when you only had each other to rely on.

You ignore their voice that calls out to you, walking out into the freezing air that sends full body chills through you. You shouldn’t have accepted their offer, you should’ve respected yourself enough to know that talking to an ex-partner after ending on bad terms was a terrible idea. You should’ve known it would be brought up.

That same guilt from earlier in the day overwhelms you again, you shouldn’t have done this to yourself. To torture yourself by spending time with someone you know your heart still yearns for on the daily. The alcohol only adds to your emotions, making you feel like a hormonal teenager all over again. 

You vow to yourself to never speak to them again.

Never.

mutable | chapter one

[cosmosorbitt]

still mad we didn’t get a hange backstory

[cosmosorbitt]

hey! could you do a hurt/comfort school au where y/n is upset over a bio test they failed, and hanji cuddles them and maybe explains a few concepts they weren’t getting :]

A Failed Test!

Help me cope!

Type: Fluff, Comfort, sliiight angst (???), Modern!AU

WC: 2,160

Pairing: Hange x Reader

A/N: I know I had the name "Hange's Biologist" at some point for like 2-ish months, but holy hell anon were you aware that I'm currently majoring in biology? I was kinda spooked when I got this lol but a lovely request regardless! And fun fact, the score is absolutely based on a true story. The train part is as well, but that's less impressive. Does anyone even read my author's notes? Comment your favorite fruit if you do. Also this was barely proofread so I apologize. I hope this satisfies your request, anon!

hange masterlist

Hange comes to the rescue after you failed a test!

[Texts with these means it's your message!]

Stumped. That’s what you were after seeing your results from a short test that you were so initially confident about. It was normal to fail every now and then– numerous posts on social media and people’s shared personal experiences proved it that much– but still, you remained mostly negative about the entire situation. You were so sure your answers were right, so what gives?

You felt uneasy on the way home. The walk to the train station felt like a blur, the nearly blaring music in your ears helping to numb your awareness of your environment. You were usually averse to any music as you walked by some of the dangerous paths on the way to the station, but for today it was an exception.

You knew you had to let Hange know, you had no plans in hiding your disappointment from them anyway. To do badly on a test you were mostly positive about was sure to manifest some extreme reactions, and it was evident in the speed at which you walked.

Sitting down in the train, you pulled your phone out, fingers heading straight to message Hange. There was at least 25 minutes before you reached your destination, and you made sure to use the ample time to let your emotions seep out into their inbox.

[hii] [hanji hanji]  [i failed that test we did the other day.]

Straightforward. Direct. There was no easy way to break the news to Hange anyway.

Hange: What happened? How did you do?

[awful.] [i got a 4 out of 17 for goodness sake] [oh my god i suck]

Hange: How did the others do?

[the ones i kept hearing earlier are mostly higher than me] [ughf]

Hange: Ahhhj I’m so sorry about that !! Hange: Do you want me to listen first or should we get straight to problem solving it up? Hange: I know u enough to know u feel enraged right now. Come on, spill it out

You chose the former. There was a need to let it all out first. Minutes were spent on that train ride with you typing away all the profanities and complaints you could get out of your system. There were numerous pessimistic comments made about the subject and the test, and it sure felt better with Hange listening to everything you said. You were aware they probably discouraged or disagreed with some of your rather impulsive messages, but you were thankful regardless. The two of you knew better, that this necessary phase of anger will dissipate soon.

After a few more written complaints, the announcement from the train's speakers alerted you of your nearing destination. It felt good to let that all out, even if it was time limiting and only through chat. As much as you enjoyed talking with your deeply understanding partner, you had to focus on battling the crowds to get off the train.

[im near my station] [gotta get off soon]

Hange: Stay safe! Let’s hate more on this test when you get home. Hange: I love you

[thanks for listening] [ur a lifesaver] [i love you too]

Hange: Of course Hange: See you soonestt!

Getting off the train was infuriatingly only half of the journey. Although now, you definitely felt much better than your earlier stroll. There was a bit of that weight lifted off from your shoulders. After talking– or rather ranting it out to Hange, things definitely felt lighter. You were thankful they were so patient and understanding. Quite intelligent too, and you knew for sure that after your little tantrums, they’d be quick to understand the lesson you were having such a hard time with and explain it to you in an easily digestible way. 

They’d also be quick to understand your thought process on the questions on the test and point out what the right steps to take were. It was infuriating sometimes, feeling so dumb compared to them, but God were you thankful for the amount of help. They’re so loving, both when they teach and in general, and your heart almost aches.

Taking a bus home, the final transportation before finally reaching home– reaching Hange, you felt lighter. The heartache is not entirely gone, but it was dissipating. You couldn’t wait to see them and complain your heart out.

Thankfully, the ride home was a breeze. In half an hour, you’ve reached home. Walking with a much more spring in your step, your feet soon bring you to the door of your shared apartment. It only takes a few knocks before Hange’s smile– both empathetic and delighted to see you– came to view with the open swing of the door.

“There’s my star student.” Sarcasm or not, you roll your eyes playfully from Hange’s remark.

Widening the door, they let you in, allowing you to fix yourself up and get settled and leave this day behind in a few hours. You strip yourself from your day clothes and your bag, settling into something more comfortable and soft. It was definitely deserving and not unreasonable to slip into your favorite clothes for tonight.

“God…” Sighing, you plunge softly onto Hange’s firm chest, simultaneously an attempt to hide away from the world and to open yourself into vulnerability in your lover's arms.

“Ohh dear,” Hange embraces you gently, pressing their lips atop your head, “That took a toll on you, huh?”

“I fucking suck.” You mumble against their chest. You can practically hear how Hange is denying it in their head, and the very words come shortly after.

“No you don’t. Don’t say that.” As you two continue to stand in the middle of the room, Hange urges you to move to the couch with them, but you won’t budge. Your face remains planted on their chest.

“Come on,” Hange urges again, this time waddling the two of you to the couch with their hands around your shoulders. It was quite an adorable sight.

Hange lay first, comfortably sprawling on the couch for you to lay right on top of them. They didn’t mind your weight on them, they never did. Plus, they knew how greatly you needed this, no matter how much you’ll try to deny it or downplay it to them now that you’re talking about it face to face.

“So…” Hange starts, urging you to speak up and rant away.

You elaborate on your initial confidence followed by the disappointment when the scores went out. With a finger drawing circles on their chest, you poured your tired little heart out as Hange comforted you with a hand gently motioning up and down on your back.

“What do you think you did wrong anyway? To get a score like that.”

“Pfft. Well, firstly none, but I guess I must suck that much,” Hange laughs at your defiant and slightly stubborn attitude, still livid and riddled with endless disappointment.

“You don’t suck,” Hange reassures again, “I like the confidence, but I know you don’t suck. I’m sure you’re already going somewhere, just confused at some parts. That’s what always happens, doesn’t it? My little star student’s just confused.”

You can’t deny that, amidst the mix of emotions, the nickname was making you softer and alleviating your downcast mood. They press a kiss atop your head adding to the gentle feeling, the kiss lingering a second longer than necessary.

“When do you want me to teach you about it?” Hange offers, knowing you’ll ask them for it anyway.

“Tomorrow night, if that’s okay?” The beauty of Friday nights: there were two more whole days available to be spent with Hange; your partner, sometimes teacher, and your comfort.

“Of course it is. Anything for you.” Hange chuckles at your reluctance at the request, “So it’s just cuddle time tonight then, hm?”

“Yeah. I just need a break.”

“You do.” Another kiss planted on your forehead, “I’m here. I’m here for you. Just lean on me tonight.”

And with that, the subject of failed exams and possible confusions over lessons with their even more puzzling solutions were left alone. The only sound filling the space between you two was the faint buzzing of the AC in the room and your intertwined breathing.

It wasn’t easy, dealing with such a blow on something you were so sure about. But Hange was here to share some of that pain which made the burden a little easier to bear. It lulled you to sleep knowing you have your partner’s support and unending understanding, leaving Hange with a soft smile tugging at the corners of their lips as they watched you fall in your own deep sleep.

Hange made sure that you had an easy morning the next day, subtly doing most of the work around the house before you got to it. They knew how much you dreaded studying on the weekends even though it was necessary. Despite how thirsty they might seem for knowledge, Hange understood that feeling of dread. To have just a few rest days be turned into something for work again was certainly awful.

Night came faster than both of you would’ve liked, but the activity was necessary. Though you found you didn’t mind it much: it was Hange teaching you after all. Worst case scenario, you’ll have to tackle them to the bed after either you didn’t get their teachings or they themselves became the distraction. An outcome both of you wouldn’t have minded, but you really did have to get to the teaching and the studying first.

It was calming, having Hange teach you. They studied the material a few hours earlier, and of course, you weren’t very surprised at the speed in which they understood it. Being together with such a bright and clever partner had its ups and downs.

They were quick to pick up on which areas you were having trouble with, and you were verbal on the things that you didn’t quite understand despite their repeated explanations. You two were at it for a few hours: giggling, hating on the subject material, doing some exercises over and over again, Hange getting you both another cup of water. 

But your mind was reaching its limits and they were patient to an extent, though their effort wasn’t wasted. If anything, you feel a little lighter now, finally understanding the main points of this god awful subject and what you might’ve done wrong on that quiz. Cleaning up your workspace, you decide it’s time to end the study session for tonight.

“We’re done for tonight?” Hange asks, head propped in one hand and watching as you skillfully clean up the mess you two made on the desk.

“Yeah, I’m beat. You need to rest your pretty little head too, you know.”

“Oh, this old thing?” amused, Hange taps their temple, “Well thank you. But you’re not so bad yourself.”

They prop their elbows on the desk, eyes never leaving yours as they assess the events of your ample study session, “You got the topic pretty quickly. And you made me know if you still didn’t understand something. I liked that.”

You stammer under their praiseful words. “Oh– um. Well gee, thanks mister.”

“Mhm-hm. And I definitely enjoyed hearing you complain. Seriously, it’s cute.” They giggle, “You mutter under your breath a lot. It’s cute. Did I say it was cute? It’s cute.”

“Pfft, it didn’t annoy you at all? I thought it was bothering you…” 

“No, no!” They defend, waving their arms as if to diminish the thought, “I thought it was adorable. And who knows, maybe a little more hate will make you understand the future topics better, so how about that?”

“You are silly.”

“And you did well tonight. Seriously.”

After you finish cleaning up, you let yourself look over at Hange, a soft smile adorned on their face. You feel a smile creep up and tug at the corners of your lips after seeing such a sight.

“Thanks.” You reply back.

It doesn’t take much longer before you two are comfortably snuggled in bed. It was a productive day, so you couldn’t be too mad, and how could you be when Hange was right beside you? 

Hange thought the same, the activities of today fulfilling them greatly. They always did enjoy teaching you, learning the material you were struggling with and helping you along with it. In a way, they felt more included. Your day to day life as a student was busy enough, and they were glad to help in any way they could. It couldn’t have turned out better.

With tired eyes and a more educated soul, Hange watches as you fall asleep first, cradled deep and comfortable in their arms. They say their goodnights with a kiss on top of your head, and a promise to keep you safe and understood. For as long as you have your problems with your academics, rest assured they’ll always lend a helping hand, ready to guide you whenever you need.

[cosmosorbitt]

platonic/sibling relationship jean x y/n fic? canonverse ^_^

or wholesome platonic springlestein (jean, sasha, connie?)

absolutely adore this omg. ty for suggesting!

The Quiet Horizon

jean x gn reader

wc: 668

tags: fluff, platonic, sibling dynamic

please leave more suggestions! i had a blast writing this :3

cross posted on ao3!

The cool October air seeps through your skin, sending a small shiver down your spine. The trees have already turned several vibrant hues of orange, red, and yellow. A leaf falls softly to the ground beside you, snapping you out of your thoughts as it gently graces the ground. 

The memories of the most recent mission flood your brain. Several deaths and many casualties, but successful nonetheless. You sigh, leaning your back against the tree that you had been sitting against. You look up at the setting sun along the horizon, admiring the colors painting the sky nearby. 

A leaf crunches under someone’s boot, and you turn your head to the sound, revealing the ash-haired man standing next to you. The familiar face smiles down at you.

“Mind if I take a seat, m’lady?” Jean says teasingly. He’s always been quite the jokester, no matter the time or place.

“Not at all, kind sir,” you snort in response. The air sways the trees nearby, almost as if they were waving a small hello to you. Jean sits down quickly as he wears that stupid smug smirk that he’s adorned for several years. 

“How you doin’?” he asks quietly. There was something a bit different about his tone now, something softer and more caring.

“Just thinking. Y’know, about the mission and whatnot,” you say quietly. Something about the mission was… weird. Something nagged at you, clawing at your chest and heart, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Jean stays quiet for a moment, his previous smug smirk now replaced with a blank expression, nearly unreadable. A flicker of concern shows in his eyes, but you hardly catch it.

“You aren’t the best liar,” he states matter of factly. “Come on, talk to me. I’m not just a pretty face,” he smiles at you teasingly. 

You chuckle softly. Jean wasn’t just a pretty face. He had been nothing but a phenomenal friend, consistently putting in effort and checking on you.

“Something about that mission. Something is wrong with it,” you admit quietly. As the memories fade into your mind again, you feel a slight pit in your stomach, unsure of how to put off the unease.

“What about it?” Jean asks curiously.

You pause for a few moments, unsure of how to put your thoughts into words. To be honest, you weren’t really sure. Something was different about it, something big. Some big part of the puzzle was missing, and your mind was screaming at you to find it.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly, sucking in a sharp breath. The cool air infiltrates your lungs, providing a solid relief for a moment.

Jean stays quiet, looking along the horizon at the almost set sun. He’s slowly piecing his thoughts together, just like a puzzle.

“You don’t know?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t.”

Jean pauses for another moment, his expression still blank and unreadable. He speaks up after a minute, the words quiet and almost mumbling.

“That’s okay.”

You chuckle softly. While Jean was almost entirely a man of jokes, there was something different about this conversation, a more caring side to him.

“It’s okay not to know,” He adds softly.

You turn to look at him, your eyes gazing over  the features of his face, more specifically, the stubble forming on his face.

“You need to shave,” you joke teasingly.

“Way to ruin the sappy moment! Jeez, I was really trying to help!” Jean exclaims, feigning offense and raising his hands in defense.

You can’t help but laugh, gently elbowing him.

“You did help, don’t worry.” It wasn’t a lie. Something about his presence made you feel protected, like an older brother.

Jean smiles at you softly, “Glad to help, told you I’m not just a pretty face.”

You snort again, smiling as you look at the rising moon. The nagging feeling in your chest has subsided. Even if for just a bit, the pit has turned full, leaving you content as you watch the horizon.

[cosmosorbitt]

ALMOST 200 CHATS 😭😭🙏🙏 THANK YOU EVERYONE!! omg that’s crazy tho i literally made the bot yesterday….

[cosmosorbitt]

hellooo i’m here for any kind of aot fic requests! i’ve never rlly written so pls be patient w/ me but im also willing to make cai bots if you’re into that as well! my fav character is hange, but i’m willing to write for anyone in aot <3

[cosmosorbitt]

i need hange mf zoe to strap me down right now pleaseplspls