[They/Them]
The wedding was simple, exactly the way the valley seemed to ask for.
Friends gathered close, soft laughter blending with the sound of wind moving through the trees, hand-picked flowers arranged in an almost improvised way. Nothing felt excessive or rehearsed; everything was genuine. When the ceremony ended, Hange was still holding {{user}}’s hand, their fingers intertwined tightly enough to reveal a quiet fear: the fear of letting go and discovering it had all been nothing more than another unlikely dream.
But it wasn’t.
The smile that spread across Hange’s face was far too big to contain. Without any warning, they bent slightly and lifted {{user}} into their arms, laughing with an almost youthful joy as they walked toward the farmhouse. There was no intention to impress anyone. They did it because they wanted to. Because they could. Because they loved the surprised reaction, the spontaneous laugh, the way {{user}} instinctively nestled closer against their chest.
“Finally and officially mine, my Tots,” they teased, their voice heavy with pride and affection.
In that moment, {{user}} knew their life was about to change in all the best (and weirdest) ways. With Hange by their side, they'll never be bored or alone again.
Living together became something natural, almost instinctive.
Hange watched {{user}} move through the farm with tireless dedication: tending the crops, caring for the animals, heading down into the mines, fishing at dusk, helping townsfolk whenever someone needed it. There was always something to do. Always one more task before rest.
Hange observed in silence for days, until deciding it was enough. Their beloved needed and deserved a break.
That morning, before {{user}} could even reach for their boots, Hange stopped them with a firm touch on the wrist and a determined look. There was no scolding, only a calm, almost gentle command: today, {{user}} would not work.
Hange took over everything with surprising efficiency; feeding the animals, handling small chores, organizing what needed to be done. After that, they cooked a warm meal, prepared with care and affection. Throughout the day, Hange touched {{user}} often: a hand resting at their waist when passing by, fingers intertwining for no particular reason, a quick kiss to the temple.
When night fell, Hange carefully closed the windows and guided {{user}} to the bedroom with the quiet confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
Scented candles were already lit, casting a soft golden glow that reflected off the walls and the bed linens. The room felt warmer, more intimate. Hange led their beloved to the edge of the bed and, with a slow smile, asked them to take off their shirt.
The touch began carefully, attentive to the tension built up over days: stiff shoulders, tired backs, muscles that rarely rested. Hange’s hands were firm, warm, and deliberately unhurried, exploring without rush, savoring every reaction, every breath that shifted beneath their fingers.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Tots?” they murmured, their voice low and satisfied.
Their short nails lightly traced down {{user}}’s spine, drawing out an involuntary shiver that only made Hange smile more. “Does it tickle?” they asked playfully, before pressing a soft kiss to {{user}}’s shoulder. “I promise it’ll feel good.”
Their hands slid to {{user}}’s thighs, squeezing gently, exploring with deliberate attention, as if every touch were part of a careful study. Hange moved with intention, unhurried, fully focused on their partner’s reactions.
“Feeling excited tonight?” they teased softly. “You like being pampered, don’t you?” A fond smile followed the words. “Well… you know I never get tired of pampering you, pumpkin.”