#《 i don't even have that many muses and my head is spinning doing a mental roll call 》

[tuesdayscanons]

My current status with my LMK muses

Alternatively:

[serenelia]

ᴍᴀꜱQᴜᴇʀᴀᴅᴇ

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ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ/ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content includes: SFW, mentioned vampire Harbinger Childe, ball room dancing that's probably all over the place, the reader experiences stress (to say the least) and vomits.

Scroll away if you don't entertain any au's regarding vampires, witches, and hunters. Also this is quite long (yes again), almost two-thousand and five hundred words, grab a drink!

If you haven't read the first part: ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ

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Before she could even begin to theorize who the person was, she’s promptly shut up once he ceases spinning her around and intertwines their hands. One of his hands takes hers from the same side and places it on his shoulder, resting his on her waist soon after. The gentleman looks.. soft; compared to his intimidating gaze and aura, his features are similar to those of a porcelain doll. A pretty one at that. If one were to differentiate between Childe and him, she could definitely say with confidence that the stranger is more pleasing to the eyes, one would be easy to be distracted by such a man.

The two stared at each other as they swayed gently from side to side, and [Name] felt her breath be taken away upon examining his face even further. Illuminated by the bright light of the chandelier above, his soft indigo-colored hair framing his soft cheeks, his pale skin, and sharp eyes perfectly compliment his very being; even [Name] could feel herself slowly starting to get insecure in his presence. And upon shifting her gaze to his lips, she could see the corner of his lips quirk up and the shine of a sharp and long fang.

[Name] gulps. “Is it too late to back out now?” the stranger muses, evidently entertained by her previous comment that was very obviously for the man she danced with before.

“..My apologies, dear sir; I had intended that for my previous dance partner, Childe, who.. had suddenly left.” She forces herself to look away, her gaze locking with the audience as she turns away, and sees Childe scurrying away in the crowd, not even bothering to look back at her.

Well, it's not like she wanted him to, but she was hoping he'd be attached somehow. Those make the killings easier.

The latter snorts, “Do you…” His laughter dies down as quickly as it came, and [Name] didn’t have enough time to react as he abruptly raised their intertwined hands and spun her around, eliciting a surprised gasp from the lady.

He slows her down after a few spins, intentionally making her land right on his chest. He places a careful hand on her back, pulling her closer, and he whispers, “When dancing with someone, it's rather rude to focus on other people, don't you think?”

“…” Her eyes widened, her mind turning to mush at their nonexistent distance, and her heart started beating loudly in her chest. Yet before she could even respond, he swiftly maneuvered her back to her previous place and started swaying them once again, wearing a small but polite smile.

“..My apologies; I was simply confused for a mere moment.” [Name] says through gritted teeth, mentally cursing at the rate of her heart at that one cheesy action. How many more times is he going to spin her around?!

“Forgiven,” he replies, a smirk growing on his lips. “I am Scaramouche, the 6th of the Eleven Harbingers. I must apologize for my fellow Harbinger’s actions. I’ll make sure to ask him to give you a proper apology later.”

[Name] smiles back politely and shakes her head. “Good evening, Sir Scaramouche, I am Lady [Name]. You ought not to, I’m sure the matter is something of outmost importance for him to handle.”

“Even if that is so, it’s still rather rude to leave your dance partner in the middle of it.”

“You need not to fret; I take no offense to it.”

Scaramouche squints his eyes. “Lying is not a very friendly mannerism to a stranger, is it?" he says, tilting his head to the side and peering down at her.

forcing a smile, [Name] made an effort to avoid glaring at him, “Quite so, though, may I ask why you took it upon yourself to replace my previous partner?” her charm was working marvelously on Childe, a little more would have him end up in her lab. Why did he have to intervene?

The Harbinger replies in a sly tone, “Upon realizing his gaze would inevitably stray away from you, I had to clean up after him to make sure he doesn’t do more harm than good.”

[Name] raises a brow, “Then one should not bother himself with a fleeting matter such as this, I assure you, there is no need to occupy your time with a dance.” She removes her hand from his shoulder and takes a step backward with her body following suit, accompanied by an outreached hand; the latter does the same and assists her once she spins herself and lands carefully near his chest. His hands outlining her waist, she wraps her arms around his neck and threw her head back as Scaramouche leans her downward.

She tries her utmost best to avoid ogling his face, “Why, there is no need to belittle this wonderful dance; I am finding it rather enjoyable, so consider my time well occupied.” Scaramouche praises, though [Name] could clearly see the empty words behind it.

He guides her back to her feet by the waist, “I am incredibly honored to hear such.” [Name] lies, moving her hands from his neck back to his shoulders as they started swaying side to side, frowning at his natural beauty and nonchalant behavior.

a flicker of doubt crosses his face, “..I find myself honored as well to be able to speak to you, Lady [Name].”

[Name] forces out a smile.

silence overruns the space between them, both plastering polite smiles on their faces, one more visible than the molecule of a smile the other has. After a few more seconds of their bodies swaying, they switched their perspective positions and once again intertwined their hands together. [Name] takes a step back before raising their hands to hang above her head to be able to place herself by his side, facing the opposite direction with their arms resting on top of each other.

To her surprise, it was he who broke the silence between them: “How does one find the event so far? I hope it suits to your adequate tastes.”

[Name] glances at him from behind. Is he one of the people who arranged the whole event? Or maybe well acquainted with the person who did?

Perhaps she should watch her mouth from now on.

“This event has been wonderful so far; I can tell a lot of effort has been put into it to make it satisfactory for both races,” she replies, which, in a way, is true.

Scaramouche suppresses what sounds like a scoff: “Yes, this whole event wishes to bring both the human race and the vampire race together.” The two break off the physical connection between their arms and held hands, with Scaramouche raising them as [Name] spins herself before doing the same for the latter. After he spins, they repeat their outstretched arms by their sides. “I must say, this whole idea is rather.. idealistic. Don’t you think so?” he continues, gaze glued to her figure during the whole step.

[Name] remains silent for a second longer. “Why does one think so?" she asks, her eyes finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. They each took a step to meet at the center and held hands, withdrawing for a mere moment before letting go of one pair as she started to slowly walk in a circle around him, with Scaramouche having to adjust his hand over his head once she made her way behind him.

“Anyone who had proper education would be able to process that.. ideas like that are just utterly impossible. It defies the natural law in the food chain, no? With who has the most favor in the eyes of the “gods,” it’s pretty obvious whose more deserving to rule.” Scaramouche states.

[Name] could almost trip at the absurdity of his belief. “…Is that so?”

He tilts his head once they come to face each other. “Do you not agree, Miss [Name]?”

“I.. don’t have a particular view on that subject,” [Name] mutters, lowering her head slightly to avoid his unwavering stare. Aside from the predicament she finds herself in, at least she can confirm that this gentleman is a vampire. A psychopathic human who would be willing to be a blood bag for vampires doesn’t seem to be a plausible explanation. It is also worth adding the glimpse of a fang she saw earlier, further supporting her theory. The only remaining challenge here is figuring out where he prefers his blood to come from.

They repeat their outstretched hands from their side, and [Name] could feel her anxiety (or could it be giddiness?) spike up once she felt his hands embrace the sides of her waist firmly after she spun herself to land with her back to his chest, “To be able to grasp the true reality of this hierarchy-focused world, one must adapt their beliefs and get rid of this foolish agenda,” he speaks up while lifting her carefully into the air, her feet kicking purely out of instinct at the loss of ground beneath her. [Name]’s heart rate only increases as he spins himself around, taking her along with it, her beautiful dress a dazzling display for the awed audience.

He swiftly gently places her back on the ground, their hands instinctively finding their way to each other, “Only in that way can you accomplish your desired goals,” Scaramouche adds, his eyes boring onto her whole being with silent but much perceived expectations. [Name] feels the overwhelming urge to run away to her bones; she feels naked around him. With the way he worded his sentences and the tone along with them, it was as if he knew everything about her already.

Cold sweat drips down her back.

What does he mean by that?

Does he mean something more?

Does he know I’m a witch hunter already?

Is he going to expose me?

Oblivious to her panic, Scaramouche continues dancing to the music, seemingly thinking she’s merely thinking about it in her head. He decides to take the lead. His hand always with hers as they became the sole partners left dancing under the light. Their movements were graceful and calculated, appearing to be peaceful for both parties, with the exception of [Name], whose expression slowly turned to one of morbid horror the longer they danced. Scaramouche, for some reason, doesn’t react whatsoever, only keeping a small smile on his face. Only giving rise to her unparalleled feeling of distraught.

The cheerful atmosphere inside the manor suddenly becomes claustrophobic, and the space around her seems to be choking all the air remaining inside her lungs. She needed to get out of there fast. She had underestimated the gravity of her whole situation; she had overestimated herself.

When will this dance end?

The music provided by the musicians was constantly fighting with the dominating ringing in her ears, the muffled voices of the audience increasing and decreasing in volume; it pierced her ears, yet it was almost as quiet as the soft whisper of the wind. Her feet stumbling even at the perfectly made marble floor, her heels screeching upon contact, they trip among themselves, every spin and turn made, but never did she make an attempt to run away. She can’t.

It’s all too much. She could feel the merciful brush of the wind upon her hair, the warm touch of the light above, the tight hug of the corset in her chest, yet the most primary of all, his penetrating gaze set on her, the strong scent of his cologne hazing her mind, his cold touch on her clothed skin, leaving a burning sensation behind. Every trail of his finger from her hand to her shoulder, down to her waist, creates a shockwave of shivers that resonates with her very core.

Please, please, have pity on me, gods!

Let this night end!

Suddenly, everything stops.

The crowd applauds as the music slows down, and they’re both standing in the middle of the circle, facing one another. [Name] had to take a moment to process it. She scans the room around her, and with her raggedy breathing, she can’t find it in herself to say anything, let alone breathe in his presence.

It’s… over?

Something heavy and tight presses itself against her neck, and she involuntarily flinches. Her hand immediately shoots up to her collar; it grasps on nothing. The imaginary force’s hold on her tightens as she locks gazes with Scaramouche. “I thank you again for having this dance with me, Miss [Name]. I hope the rest of the night treats you well.” He purrs and takes her hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss on the glove.

She clutches her free hand tightly, “..To you too… Sir.” [Name] manages to croak out, barely hearing him over the sound of her heart in her ears and the audience’s amazement.

And with that, he lets go of her hand and leaves his station, blending in with the crowd only a few seconds later, and [Name] is left on her spot, frozen. Looking in his direction with a chill up her spine, this mission was too precious to give up, but was it really worth it just for her experiment?

Her stomach twists and turns in her throat, and [Name] makes quick work with her feet in finding the restroom.

She hastily washes her mouth and hands after exiting the cubicle, banging her hands onto the sink counter repeatedly.

Curse him, curse him, curse him!

her voice strains itself in her throat, tempting her to let it out, but imagining the possibility a fellow guest walking in on her and having to explain brings a blush to her cheeks and a headache in her already dazed head. So she settles by whispering it loudly to herself instead, resulting to her coughing into the sink as flashbacks of the previous dance floods her mind. She takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, but it proved to be useless meditation for his smell clouded her sense of smell everywhere she turns. Oh, how she wishes she could wash it off her right this moment.

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

the sensation of dread and excitement only continued to plague her mind. It never occurred to her—the real danger of being undercover and having a dance with your victim. It was as if the gods were punishing her and keeping her humble.

She scoffs and takes out a small container she kept hidden in her, opening it before applying the ingredients imbedded in it to her lips, wrists, and neck.

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..this was originally supposed to be like 5k words but I held back (my schedule partook in it too). Truly, I was supposed to make this plus two more scenes all in one post, but I was editing and decided to check the word count and... almost 2,500k words... And I know that'll be a mouthful 😪 and I thought that if I delay it further I was afraid ya'll would lose interest and would probably forget about it, haha.

Apart from my self-pity, I really enjoyed making this! Took me like 5 days for this and the rest of the outline.. It was still enjoyable nonetheless. So I hope it's a joyful read too!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!

[fanmoose12]

Levi ignored the formal greetings and salutes of the soldiers he passed as he made his way through the barracks. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. He had to get to the infirmary.

Apparently, Hange had decided to start her experiments bright and early that day. So early that the sun had barely begun to rise. Not long after, a titan's arm broke free from its restraints and swung at Hange while her back was facing away. With no time to react, the full force of the attack had her instantly flying through the air and only stopping when her body met a wall. Levi didn't comprehend much of the details after that. He simply threw on his uniform as is, not bothering a second glance in the mirror.

He bit back a chill as he entered the courtyard, not knowing whether it was from the sudden cold winter air or from his own nerves. It was only then that he realized he had left without throwing on a coat.

When he entered the infirmary, he immediately noticed a small group of people huddled together. Hange's squad, Mike, Nanaba, and Erwin along with a nurse Levi didn't recognize. They all spoke in hushed whispers and, as if on cue, all turned to look at him. His pace suddenly slowed, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at their ominous gazes. He hesitated to approach.

After a moment, Erwin resumed speaking to the nurse and exchanged a few more words before she finally walked away. Erwin then dismissed the rest of the group as they shuffled away, avoiding eye contact as they passed Levi.

Levi swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and approached Erwin. "How's Hange?" He asked, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn't obvious.

"Levi," Erwin began, his voice stern and his jaw tight. "How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

"Just this morning." He answered.

Erwin's brow furrowed and Levi could see the wrinkles in his face. "I will ask again. How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

The question was puzzling. What kind of answer was Erwin looking for? Levi felt like a child being chastised. He was coming in blind to this whole situation, only knowing the information that Moblit had told him earlier.

"Moblit came by my room about twenty minutes ago and told me about the accident. I came as fast as I could."

Erwin's eyes stared intently at Levi, as if he was trying to look through him instead of at him. It was then that Levi noticed the small beads of sweat lining his forehead.

Levi's heart rate quickened. Something wasn't right. "Erwin, what the hell is going on?"

What was Erwin trying to get out of him? What did he know that Levi didn't? Was Hange sick? Surely he would've noticed, right? Then again, they hadn't seen much of each other recently. Hange had been busy testing a new theory involving the evaporation of titan blood and Levi had been assigned to oversee the development of the new training grounds.

She and Levi had grown close. Immensely close. Too close for Levi's comfort sometimes. They had become a bonded pair in all forms; emotionally, physically, and mentally. They knew each other's strengths and short-comings, their pet peeves and bad habits, their fears and hopes, the way each other tasted and smelled, how their bodies felt intertwined, the rhythm of each other's heartbeats. Hange had become the one thing Levi never wanted; someone to lose.

As if Erwin could sense his inner turmoil, his shoulders dropped and his eyes relaxed. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Nobody's told me a damn thing."

Erwin released a tired sigh. "Hange is alive but she suffered a concussion. The nurse wants to keep her here for a few days to monitor her once she wakes up."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"I'm not sure but this could have been much worse. In more ways than you realize."

Levi could feel his frustration reaching its peak. "Why not just come out and tell me whatever the hell it is you're hiding?"

Erwin just shook his head. "It's not for me to tell. We'll continue this at a later time. You may see her if you'd like."

Levi decided not to further the discussion and made his way towards the room. Once his hand had reached the doorknob, he heard Erwin's voice behind him. "Levi, once you're finished, meet me in my office. We have much to discuss."

Levi's hand tightened around the doorknob. He didn't like being left in the dark but he was humanity's strongest, surely he could handle whatever news Erwin was refusing to disclose.

He shook the thought from his mind, wanting to be solely focused on Hange. He readied himself for the sight and pushed open the door.

Hange appeared natural as she slept in the hospital bed before him. Her expression was peaceful with the usual stress lines in her face relaxed. Her glasses rested on a table next to the bed with her uniform and winter coat thrown over a wooden chair. She had been changed into a hospital gown with a white bandage wrapped around her head.

"That was an extreme stunt to pull just to get some sleep don't you think, four eyes?" Levi mused.

He examined the bandage and noticed a minimal amount of blood from a scrape on the side of her head. He wasn't sure what the worry was about. Concussions were a normal injury for most soldiers, especially new recruits who were practicing with their ODM gear.

Still, Erwin had mentioned her "condition" which meant there was something Levi was missing, something he wasn't seeing.

"Sorry about this, Hange." He said as he grabbed the blanket on top of her and tossed it to the side.

Before the blanket had even touched the ground, Levi had stumbled away from Hange's bedside until his back was forced against the wall. His heart beat hard against his chest, he struggled to catch his breath and felt as if he was suffocating, his knees trembled beneath him, and his mind could not comprehend the sight before him.

Levi looked around the room as if an explanation would appear before him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her again. He was almost thankful that she was asleep.

The sight of her winter coat suddenly drew his attention. Like most things, Hange was too engrossed in her research and often careless when it came to her own health. Levi would often find her outside in the snow, watching over her precious titans, wearing nothing more than her usual brown jacket. She never bundled herself properly and always claimed she felt fine despite the obvious signs of her red nose, chapped lips, chattering teeth, and shivering body. And as expected, Levi would be the one to have to care for her when she fell ill.

Although, come to think of it, this was the first year that Hange had actually been adamant about wearing her coat. Each time Levi saw her, she had it buttoned around her, refusing to take it off even when indoors. And if he thought about it further, he realized that it always looked a size too big for her.

The realization suddenly came crashing on him as all the pieces fell into place. The air felt as if it had been knocked out of him and his head was spinning. If it weren't for the wall supporting him, he's sure he would have collapsed.

It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real.

It was stupid, he knew, the evidence was right in front of him but he just had to confirm it for himself. He looked towards her still sleeping face and then very slowly trailed his eyes down her body until he was staring at a small bump on her torso.

He steadied his knees and pushed himself away from the wall. It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to move his legs and reach her bed side. With a shaky hand and a deep ragged breath, he outstretched his arm until it rested gently on her swollen abdomen. He ignored the water stinging the corner of his eyes and forcefully blinked the sensation away.

It was as if his mind was not his own as he began to slowly stroke small circles on top of her belly. As he was getting used to the feeling, he felt a sudden pressure hit against his head. He immediately froze his movements and waited. A few seconds passed and there it was again, a small push to his hand.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and could feel his lips curve into a smile. He was feeling a kick. The being inside of Hange was making it self known to him.

He became overwhelmed with an abundance of conflicting emotions bombarding him all at once. He had so many thoughts, questions, ideas, fears. At that moment all he could do was reach for her hand and relish in the comfort of her warmth beneath his palm. He needed her here with him.

And then a new realization chilled him to his core.

She would eventually awaken...wouldn't she?

"Hange." He whispered desperately. "Please, wake up."

omg, you got me so worried!! i thought hange lost the baby, but whew! i'm so glad the baby is alright! and your writing is top notch! if you ever think of posting it and maybe adding a second part...... hmu?