Oops, My Bad (Not Really)
Chapter 1: Sorry, Wrong Number
started with a text. It escalated into…whatever this is. (Levi Ackerman x Hange Zoe - Modern AU)
Hange Zoe had never been known for her attention to detail. Genius? Yes. Organized? Not in the slightest.
On this particular Tuesday morning, she was juggling two mugs of coffee, three half-replied emails, one very inquisitive intern, and a sticky note with a phone number seemingly half-obscured by a brown coffee ring.
Her thumb hovered over the screen before she pressed send to the number Erwin had written down for her new assistant. Or was it Moblit who wrote it? Hard to say. The note had a smudge. Might’ve been an 8. Might’ve been a 3. Definitely coffee-stained.
She didn’t double-check.
She hit send with zero hesitation, mid-sip of her second espresso, then returned to rearranging her desk to make space for a microscope that had absolutely no reason to be there.
Five minutes later, her phone buzzed. She expected a resigned "Sure," or maybe a confused emoji.
Instead:
She paused. Blinked once. Then let out a delighted laugh.
“Wow,” she said under her breath. “New intern’s got edge.”
Moblit, seated nearby and diligently labeling sample tubes, looked up. “What now?”
“Nothing,” she chirped, already typing her response.
A longer pause this time. She swiveled idly in her chair, tossing a pencil up and down as she waited. On the fourth catch, the reply came.
Hange froze mid-keyboard mash. She stared at the screen, mouth slightly open.
Wait.
She scrolled back up. Checked the number. Checked the sticky note on her monitor. She may have entered a "6" instead of an "8." Or maybe there was a coffee blotch on the note. Or maybe she just typed it too fast while hanging upside down from the rolling chair again. Hard to say.
“Oh,” she muttered. Then: “...Oh.”
Read. No reply.
She sighed, shaking her head and setting her phone down. She was already halfway back into an explanation about protein denaturation when her phone buzzed again.
“Fair,” Hange muttered, biting back a grin. But of course, the reply only encouraged her.
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
Levi Ackerman stood in the sterile calm of his apartment kitchen, the quiet hum of his kettle competing only with the soft jazz playing low in the background, not that he’d admit it. The space around him was pristine. Minimalist. A glass container of perfectly aligned tea packets. Countertops so clean they reflected light like steel. Not a single object out of place.
He held his phone in one hand, staring down at the unprompted chaos on his screen.
A frog skull.
Diet soda.
The woman—if it even was a woman—texted like her brain was on fast-forward and no one had told her where the brakes were.
He set the phone face-down on the counter and poured his tea with quiet precision. The scent of black tea with faint citrus filled the air, his usual choice when people annoyed him.
He should’ve blocked the number.
But when his phone buzzed again, he didn’t pick it up immediately.
He didn’t block her either.
ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩
#writing this was therapy just started writing again, god knows how long has it been. I also posted a new LeviHan fic recently on AO3—Hange's Unsent Letters by blamjra). I felt the need to write angst so I'm making it up for this new fic, posting this on AO3 as well . Recently got inspired by Challenge Accepted by @sleepyheadven, thank you!
