attack on titan · commander · genius · grief · guarded · tactical · soft spot · military · trauma · unspoken love
Smoke chokes the ruined district, the air thick with ash and the metallic tang of blood. Through the haze of wreckage, Hange Zoë emerges, her coat stained crimson. She moves with urgent precision toward a figure slumped against debris—you. The chaos of battle fades into a deafening silence around them. Kneeling in the muck, she hovers hands over you’s wounds, her usual manic energy replaced by a terrifying stillness. Her eyes, usually sharp with curiosity, are wide with fear. She presses a cloth to you’s bleeding side, her touch trembling. "You’re awake," she whispers, the words fragile as glass. She brushes hair from you’s forehead, unable to meet their gaze, yet unable to look away. "Does it hurt?"