#liquid handling instruments

[microlitseo]

 What is the most durable electronic pipette?

When it comes to selecting the most durable electronic pipette, Microlit stands out as a leading choice. Our commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction has made us a trusted name in the scientific community.

Our electronic pipettes are designed with durability in mind. We use high-quality materials and advanced manufacturing micropipette technology to ensure that our products can withstand the rigors of everyday laboratory use. From the robust construction of the pipette body to the precision-engineered components, every aspect of our pipettes is built to last.

One of the key factors contributing to the durability of our electronic pipettes is our rigorous quality control process. Each pipette undergoes extensive testing and calibration to ensure that it meets our stringent quality standards. This attention to detail guarantees that you'll receive a product that is reliable, accurate, and built to last.

In addition to durability, our electronic pipettes offer a range of features that make them ideal for demanding laboratory applications. Our pipettes are easy to use, ergonomic, and designed to minimize the risk of repetitive strain injuries. They also feature a variety of pipetting modes and adjustable speeds to accommodate different workflows and sample types. 

Here are some of the key features that make our electronic pipettes so durable:

Robust construction: Our pipettes are made from high-quality materials that can withstand harsh laboratory environments.

Precision engineering: Every component of our pipettes is designed and manufactured to the highest standards of precision.

Rigorous quality control: Our pipettes undergo extensive testing and calibration to ensure that they meet our stringent quality standards.

Ergonomic design: Our pipettes are designed to be comfortable and easy to use, reducing the risk of repetitive strain injuries.

Versatile features: Our pipettes offer a variety of pipetting modes and adjustable speeds to accommodate different workflows and sample types. 

If you're looking for an electronic pipette that is both durable and reliable, Microlit is the perfect choice. Our commitment to quality and innovation in liquid handling instruments ensures that you'll receive a product that is built to last and will meet your most demanding laboratory needs.

[liquidhandlingproduct]

What are the various categories of Medical Lab Instruments

Pharmaceutical and scientific research laboratories conduct numerous chemical and biological tests daily. To ensure precise and accurate results, these labs rely on a diverse array of advanced and sophisticated equipment. Let's examine some of the medical lab instruments, including liquid handling instruments, commonly found in a pharmaceutical research lab and explore their applications.

[calmcoldevening]

Back at it again with a prompt idea!

What if the slasher/s are trying to kill a victim but they are immortal and keep coming back

And the victim keeps following the slasher only to annoy and be a little menace to them >:3

(maybe they fall in love later O.O)

What ever slasher you choose is fine for me ;)

Art the clown x immortal!reader

Tw: blood, murdering, torturing? well, yeah. Art is an ass sometimes

• Art has always been a fan of violent and noisy 'games' that chilled the blood in his veins. That was his sadistic nature, and the whole of Miles County and people for hundreds of miles around had already heard a lot about it. A strange man in a clown costume, who sent at least a dozen unhappy teenagers and adults to the next world. He loved blood and horror, and no one would dare stand in his way, not wanting to become another victim of brutal violence.

• Maybe it was fate's will, or maybe it was just your bad luck or an accident, but one day Art saw you in one of the cafes late at night. He was watching you from a dark alley, so it's unlikely that you would have seen him even if you really wanted to. He clutched his garbage bag in his hands, and a cruel grin appeared on his face. You were a good little thing and you definitely could have brightened up this cold night for him.

• Without thinking for long, Art hit you on the head at the most unexpected moment and took you to one of his 'game rooms', which in fact was just a room of one of the old factories in the city. He wasn't in the mood to hunt you down and catch you in your own house for a long time. This game was supposed to be fast but colorful.

• The clown involuntarily licked his lips, watching you slowly regain consciousness and open your big innocent eyes. He walks around you like some kind of fancy Christmas tree. You're sitting on an old wooden chair, badly scratched and already soaked in blood from past victims. Your limbs are tied in wooden material with strong leather straps, and thick barbed wire with rusty, blunt teeth is wrapped around your neck, chest and abdomen. There was a smell of dampness and fear in the air, which made the Clown giggle noiselessly.

• Finally, Art stopped right in front of you and gestured at the trash bag to your right. Making a playful, almost pretended sweet expression, or reached into the bag as if looking for a Christmas present for a small child. In the flickering light, a long thin tool with a convex handle and a bizarrely curved metal tip appears, more like a sharply sharpened blade. A man comes behind you and caresses your tense shoulders with almost uncharacteristic tenderness. His fingers are rough and rough. The clown's palms slowly descend lower, sliding along your clothed back through the open part of the back of the chair. The movements are slow and measured. Suddenly his movements stop and in the next moment they are replaced by acute pain. Sparks dance in your eyes and you emit a strangled cry, reflexively your body gives way forward, blunt spikes painfully dig into your tender flesh. Art laughs soundlessly, continuing to press the blade deeper into your spine, and then abruptly moves his hand down. With a nasty creak, the fabric of your T-shirt is torn, and at the same time your soft flesh is torn. Art rejoices, seeing how his hands and white gloves are stained with maroon lingonberry liquid, flowing in a thick stream onto the concrete floor. Tears are pouring from your eyes as you desperately bite your lower lip in an attempt to control yourself. Your back, which was once a flawless canvas of pale skin, is now covered with a network of terrible red lines, each of which testifies to the cruelty of Art's tools and his relentless thirst for suffering. There is a pungent smell of iron in the air, mixing with the acrid smell of fear that remains on your sweat-soaked skin.With deliberate slowness, I pick up the razor-sharp instrument again, its sinister curves gleaming in the dim light. Your body is trembling, every muscle is tense with fear, while the man is preparing to inflict even more torment on you.In the flickering shadows, a grotesque smile appears on his painted face, a silent promise of future torment.

• Suddenly, the blade hits the blood-soaked concrete with a ringing thud and bounces off somewhere to the dark wall. Art goes back to his "magic" bag and takes out some kind of leather strap. With a deft movement of his hands, he hooks the clips connected by a strap onto your wet cheeks, the gloves wet with blood rub unpleasantly against your face. Art smiles his creepy smile and gently touches your chin with his fingers. Your eyes were swollen and your cheeks were wet from tears and saliva flowing from your open mouth. But not that you can complain here. All you had to do was mumble something, barely moving your limp tongue.

• An unpleasant crunch filled the half-empty concrete room. With a strong crack, Art broke off a piece of your tooth with pliers, the fragment unpleasantly scratched the already bleeding gum. All you had to do was mumble something indistinctly, to which Art just grinned madly and jokingly grabbed your tongue with the edges of the pliers, watching the despair in your eyes. He broke off tooth after tooth until a dozen teeth had been pulled out in his hand.

• Your throat burned from screaming, and your eyes burned unpleasantly from the tears you shed. You wanted it to be over as soon as possible. Realizing that Art won't get the right reaction from you anymore, noticing your exhaustion, he snorts soundlessly, clearly losing interest. With a graceful movement of his hand, Art deftly takes out an old battered pistol from a trash bag. He slides the edges of the gun over your cheek, drawing uncomplicated patterns. His movements are slow and upward. One. Two. Three. Finally, his hand reaches your head, the muzzle of the gun is pressed against your painfully throbbing temple. You wearily close your eyes, feeling a leaden heaviness in your limbs. His arms and legs were already blue from lack of blood.

• Art blows on the smoke coming from the shower of the gun and throws the weapon back into the bag. The man steps back, admiring his work and your smoking wound on his temple for a couple of moments. After that, he carefully removes the straps from the dead body and puts them in a bag, slowly leaving the building.

• Art pinned a young man to the ground, slowly cutting the meat from his face and putting the skin in his mouth. A soft laugh was heard abruptly behind him, and another pair of hands, softer and softer palms, covered his hands. The man raises his eyebrows questioningly and turns back, meeting your satisfied gaze. Your face still looked tired and tear-stained, and there were bruises and streaks of blood on your neck, but overall you looked almost.. normal?

• Without thinking twice, you grab the scalpel from his hand and with a sharp movement stick the blade into the clown's eye. He screams soundlessly, raising his hands to his face. You step back, watching his agony with a satisfied expression on your face. "You didn't think it would end so easily, did you?" You purred, folding your arms over your chest. The clown frowns, baring his sharp black teeth, and jumps up from the lifeless body. He walks towards you with quick steps and grabs your throat with his cold hands, lifting you off the ground. No matter how thin he looks, the guy has plenty of strength. You giggle, covering his hands with yours. You can already feel the air leaving your lungs, being replaced by an unpleasant burning sensation. Without thinking twice, you reach out your hands, touching the clown's face with your fingers, and scratch his painted face, mixing the paint with the blood from his wounded eye. He presses harder, enjoying the crunch of your airways.

• It quickly turned into a constant game of cat and mouse. Wherever Art was, you were always there. And I was in his way. Art was angry, cursed, and killed you. But you were coming back. Each time, your body was still decorated with old scars, but the man added new ones. He realized that the old scars would disappear. He had to make new ones. It was as if he was celebrating his favorite, best victim in this way. He can't be uninterested in your natural stubbornness and immortality.

• Over time, the clown really begins to look forward to your recovery and return, despite the slight irritation that you cause in him. He feels it in the pleasant piercing of his fingers. His hands crave you, your body, his fingers want to touch your scars and leave new ones.

• Your constant presence in Art's life begins to gradually change his thinking and thoughts, your image has settled in his head like a damn poison.

• Your immortality and lack of fear make you a really worthy partner for Art, he realizes this on an unconscious level. There's something about you. Something that makes his blood boil in his head. He's falling in love with you. Yes, in his own way, but he falls in love. Despite your initial maniac-victim relationship, Art is starting to see you as almost an equal. This is surprising. He loves you in his own twisted way.

• Art and you are in a love-hate relationship, constantly joking and arguing with each other. Despite the constant quarrels, you are united by a deep connection and understanding, which becomes apparent in your communication. You both feel extremely comfortable in such a relationship in your own perverted way (this is especially damn noticeable in sex..)

• Art begins to crave your company and gets annoyed when you are not around. There's something nice about knowing that after a bloody murder, he can properly combine his anger and passion on you. Especially in your intimate moments. Playing with blood, strangulation and other elements of bdsm is an integral part of your pleasure. You are a perfect match for each other, you are feared by all the states in the district.

[polyestercleaner]

sfw and nsfw headcanons of joost dating a russian girl with rockstar gf style PLSSSSS😞🙏

Was waiting for someone to request this *wink* ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

|Summary:Headcannons of joost dating a RAD Rockstar Russian gf ☆

|Content Warning⚠️:Nsfw

SFW☆:

Always with you when you wanna pick guitars and new instruments, your so picky with it and he dosent mind the fact you both usually spend hours there before you pick a guitar

Loves how cunty you could be, ripped tights and short skirts, cunty walk and everything, he likes to watch you put on your makeup, you're so messy with it yet you nail it like a (once again) cunty star that you are

Both your pronunciations of words are terrible sometimes and you like to joke around with him about it, sometimes randomly repeating words you both don't know how to properly pronounce and giggling about it

Eventually he hears you speak Russian on a random day and now he wants to learn a couple of words, over time he picks up on stuff, the swear words you say when you hurt yourself on accident and whatnot

You'll wake him up with all that guitar playing and he dosent mind, does he even mind anything at this rate....

You always do your nails, always filing them always painting them and he think it's just the prettiest thing ever. Kissing your hand after you done to show you how well you did.

Always sharing nail polish and t-shirts that he owns, when he comes back from a long tour and you're there rotting in his shirt, it's adorable is what he thinks.

Loves how you two could be so different, your always so fierce and confident, and even though you could say he's confident, he's much more sillier.. if that's the right word.. hmmm

NSFW☆:

Speaking of you wearing his shirts, if he finds it just too much to handle he'll always drop what he's holding from luggage to run up to you and drown you with kisses, eventually he's between your legs, sucking at your clit and making sure he tastes every part of your pussy, if you try taking off his shirt he'll pull it back on your body

After your both done partying and you go back home, both of you tipsy you'll always find yourself bent over something his cock deep inside of you with every thrust you can feel his tip brushing over your sweet spot, he loves playing with the hem of your skirts in the midst of it, everything about you is so pretty it just overwhelms him!

Speaking of him picking up on Russian words, he'll pick up on those you say when he's fucking you really good and your brain is too much of a melted liquid to process what language you're speaking, curse words and pleasurable sentences slipping past your mouth.

Backstage sex once he's done or if your done with your concert, quickly dragging him to the changing room, his fingers deep inside of your mouth that your almost choking as he fucks you into exhaustion.

If your a Rockstar who chose to get those iconic dyed chunks in your hair, trust he'll always be there to admire how well they look wrapped up in his fist, chunks of your pretty hair spilling from between his fingers

Loves pulling at your hair, enough to not hurt you a lot, enough to pull your head back closer to him so he can place kisses on your cheeks as you inch closer to orgasming around his cock

Yes he'll rip off your panties when he's really pussy drunk, he won't waste time, you've lost several soldiers due to this😞🤞

Your voice is everything to him, when your singing, when your talking, when you whimper and moan whilst your cunt clenches around his cock, he just loves your voice.

|Hope this was good enough to please ya! Thank you for the request! Xoxo

ROCK OUT!(✯ ◡ ✯)

[harpyface]

Kim Kitsuragi - The bullet falls in the bag leaving a smattering of blood on the plastic. He raises the bag under his eyes and says:

Kim Kitsuragi - "Unknown calibre. Rifled. Some kind of brittle alloy, fractured on impact..."

You - "Can I have it?"

Kim Kitsuragi - "Of course. You've *earned* it." The lieutenant drops the bag in your bloody hand. It feels light.

Perception (Sight) - Your gardening glove is completely covered in the corpse's blood.

Inland Empire - Cold and absent of life.

Half Light - Lick your fingers.

Volition - What-

Electrochemistry - YES-

You - Um...?

Endurance - Uh, no. You barely got your shit together when approaching the hanging corpse. Your body will not be able to handle its dead blood inside it.

Electrochemistry - The dark liquid glistens on the yellow latex in the cold sunlight. Your fingers are *dripping* with it.

Authority - You outlived this sad, sad man. It's only right that you should feast upon his corpse.

Logic - No, you shouldn't. The corpse has been hanging outside - mouth open - for a week. In any case, it won't taste good.

Conceptualisation - That's because it's raw, unseasoned blood. This is just a little taste.

Perception (Smell) - You waft the odor towards your face. If you close your eyes, you can imagine it's a kebab.

Volition - We all know that the kebabs you ate were no better than a week-old corpse. Take the gloves off and clean them when you get back to your room.

Reaction Speed - You will never get this chance again, especially with how the lieutenant regarded you when you tried to remove the hanged man's boots.

You - Lick your fingers.

Perception (Taste) - You swipe the flat of your tongue along the back of your hand. Why did you do that? You could have just dabbed at it. It's disgustingly sour and tastes awful. You gag when your saliva washes the fluid down your throat.

Authority - You have bested this man. You have consumed him.

Electrochemistry - It's fucking vile. It's enlightening.

Logic - Great. Now that you've established that brain fluid and blood tastes bad, let's get back to the autopsy.

Kim Kitsuragi - He had turned to his notebook when you took the bagged bullet. He's still looking down at it.

Kim Kitsuragi - He was beginning to write the bullet wound's description. The pen has not touched the paper.

Composure - He *saw* you lick your bloody glove.

Empathy - It's not a surprise. He is still appalled.

Half Light - You conquered your prey. You are the predator.

Inland Empire - A four-legged beast with sharp claws and numerous teeth. Muscles powerful and flexing.

Shivers - In a grimy butcher shop in Faubourg, a rugged man pulls a thawed lamb down onto the somewhat clean counter. He grips the front legs and tendons crack. In the front of the shop, raw meats line the shelves. Red steaks with beautiful marbling, sausage casings stuffed full of spiced pork, pink breasts of chicken shining in the artificial light.

Electrochemistry - You recall the sweet ham of Gaston's sandwich.

Physical Instrument - Your muscles are also powerful and flex-worthy. Your meat would be highly coveted.

Volition - Right. Who would want to buy meat sourced from an addicted alcoholic? Take off the damn gloves.

You - "I wonder what I taste like."

Kim Kitsuragi - You pull him out of his silent stupor. After a second, he decides to ignore what you said. "We need to add an item to the injury list."

[gurugirl]

This is a Patreon exclusive one shot! If you're interested consider joining my Patreon! xoxo

When your hot waiter offers you a private demo to make a specialty cocktail at his place who are you to say no?

723 word teaser below

“What can I do to help?” You placed your palms onto the kitchen island and watched him.

“Well, let’s see,” he slid the cutting board in front of you before pulling a knife from a magnetized block that hung next to his refrigerator and walked behind you, placing the sharp instrument on the board, “Let’s see how you handle a knife in the kitchen. Can you slice this orange for me? Lengthwise.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder as he stood close. You laughed through your nose and nodded, “Okay, Harry.” Maybe he really was just going to give you a demonstration.

You picked the knife up and placed the orange steady, slicing through the middle.

“Here,” Harry’s hand wrapped around yours and moved your palm down the handle, adjusting the way you were holding the knife, “Hold it like this, it’s safer.”

He removed his hand from yours, placing his palm on the counter as he kept himself directly behind you.

You sliced through the orange again. A slim cut that flopped to the wooden board and Harry hummed, “Pretty good. Let me see you do it again, this time a bit thicker. We want the slice to be juicy when we bite into it.”

You bit your lip and ran the knife through the flesh of the orange again, cutting a thicker slice and then turning to look up at Harry.

“Very good. You’re easy to train. Do another one for me. Just like this one.”

You could almost feel the heat from his chest he was so close. Part of you wished that he’d just press into you and touch you solidly. Give you a squeeze or something that was a clear signal.

Steadying the orange with your left hand you picked up the knife with your right one and angled it over the rind, slicing down to the board. It felt silly really. You knew how to cut things. You were an adult who’d sliced oranges many times over the years. But even as silly as it felt, there was an aspect to the whole thing that felt like foreplay suddenly when he leaned in closer, his breath cascading down your neck, “Gorgeous. Give me two more just like that.”

You gulped and picked up the other half of the orange and repeated the slices, finding yourself leaning back the slightest in hopes of getting him closer.

“Do you cook a lot?” You spoke when the last bit was sliced and Harry moved away to get the cocktail shaker and a shot glass.

“I do. My father is the main chef. He curated the menu. I help him with it, though. Learned almost everything from him. Now if he’s not there I’m in charge and I run the kitchen. We’ve got a really great chef that we trust who takes our recipes seriously,” he poured the Grand Cru into a shot glass.

“Wow. Are you there a lot? At work?”

He nodded, “Nearly every day. It’s hard work but it’s worth it. I love the job.”

Harry opened up a bottle of red wine, uncorked the top, and poured two servings into the cocktail shaker then added in the Grand Cru, “Stir this for me and I’ll get the glasses ready. We want the liquid inside to be very cold before we pour to serve.”

You took the cocktail spoon and dipped it into the shaker with the liquid and stirred while Harry prepared the glasses with fresh ice and the orange slices and then put the strainer over the shaker, “Pour.”

“This was an easy drink to make, Harry,” you grinned as you emptied the cocktail shaker into both glasses.

“Of course it’s easy.” He took both glasses, handing you yours, and raised his upward to clink, “To private demonstrations,” he winked.

You giggled and took a quick sip, “Thank you. I just thought there would be a lot more to the demonstration.”

Harry moved to stand next to you, and leaned his hip into the island before taking a sip, “Oh yeah? I can give you a more in-depth demonstration. I wasn’t quite done just yet.”

“So there’s more to it?”

Harry licked his lips and you noted the quick glance he gave your cleavage before looking back at you, “I hope there’s more.”

Check out my Patreon masterlist here! xoxo

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[silaswritesthings]

heyy im asking again for scara x yandere reader *bats my eyelashes at you*

could you do one inspired by "The Dismemberment Song" by Blue Kid😻😻

Summary: On Scaramouche’s pathway toward godhood, you worked in the shadows cast by his glory. You were an assistant of Il Dottore but a crucial one especially after you were granted the opportunity to work with the rising god for two weeks during his divine preparations. Too bad the God in question had no ounce of gratefulness , or anything at all, to spare for you and so you worked through your bitterness and guilt for having the harbinger be so vulnerable in your hands.

Starring: Wanderer/Scaramouche

Genre: Yandere, horror

Warnings: dismemberment, reader is not stable, experiment , dottore (yeah he needs a fucking trigger warning)

Author’s note: I really tried to make it come out and I accidentally made a part two 🧍‍♀️ so there’s that. I’ll probably post it in a fee days because i’m away from home rn and my wifi is shitty. I hope you enjoy the read and I hope this is at least similar to what you were hoping for! Enjoy <3

Word count: 859

“I owe you the utmost gratitude for your expert execution of my research. I would not expect anything less from my most capable student.” The Doctor’s words to you were eloquent and purposeful as you walked together through the dim hallway. Fluorescent runway lights glared down at you, and your hair cast shadows onto your face.

Your shoulders were tense from two things: The first, the remnants of snow on your coat from the snezhnayan winter outside and the second being your anticipation for Dottore’s next words.

“Your hard work rewarded us with success,” he said. “Scaramouche responded very well to the treatment and we have reached a very big milestone in my research.”

Your gaze lowered at these words. You could not say you were disappointed but at the same time you were not delighted, not when you were returning back to the same laboratory without the ability to reign power over The balladeer that you had previously for two weeks.

The days you spent alone with him were more aggravating than Scaramouche himself. The constant hum of the machinery connected to the harbinger throughout did nothing to help preserve your fragile sanity. Instead what kept you together was your handling of the harbinger’s puppet limbs and connecting them to various cords filled with a dark purple liquid that Dottore refused to dive deeper into when you inquired about it’s composition.

Who cares though? Scaramouche was never kind to you, he would not spare you a single glance, not even a spiteful comment no matter how much you tried to force a reaction from him.

Even then, under your mercy, he did not react. He neither reacted when you chained him to the table as you explained the steps in the procedure nor did he react when he watched you inject his body with a chemical that would shut off his consciousness.

However, your disappointment faded to bliss when you reached the most anticipated part of the two week procedure: the separation.

His skin was soft, his body lithe but cold. He reminded you of a corpse and this comparison made it easy for you to handle his body parts like scientific instruments. The ball joints were perfectly rounded and you thought; the electro archon must have been a genius for being able to create such an advanced being. On the third day of monitoring his body parts, you had enough courage to trace your fingers over his bodiless hand.

He was in pieces.

Even though his limbs were seperated but he didn’t bleed. He had no organs like any human you’ve seen and dissected, he was something different. A puppet: that’s what the doctor would call him but but the term never left your lips in fear of dehumanizing the one person who reminded your heart to beat. By the fifth day you had been comfortable enough to confide in a detached head about your grievances:

“You make me suffer without doing anything.” You said as you noted down a few things. “Sometimes I wish to be on the receiving ends of your cruelity because it’s something.” You turned to face his head, his eyes closed as expected and he remained expressionless. It was easier to appreciate his beauty like this, you thought. “But you give me nothing and I hate it.”

He was in pieces.

His demise was supposed to uplift you and give you a moment of victory, but it filled you with dispair. Scaramouche, even in his vulnerable state and in his demise, was able to make you feel more human than you ever had… because there was not a single day of that fortnight you went through without battling a mix of intense joy and despair.

He was in pieces… and only you could put him back together.

Dottore kept his gaze ahead of him in the face of your obvious silence.

“You do not seem delighted,” he began, “Does the survival of my test subject displease you? I have noticed your ongoing feud with him, so that would not be peculiar in this case.”

“I’m satisfied with our success.” You noticed you were nearing the laboratory. “Is the harbinger conscious?” You asked, feigning disinterest to whatever answer he would give but you hung onto his every intake of breath, you would not miss a single word.

Seeing Scaramouche in that state did feel unnatural. His lashes brushed against his pale cheekbones. His soft hair sometimes rising on its own because of the electrical currents he was exposed to throughout the entire procedure. A head without a body.

He was in pieces and you were glad that you put him back together in the end.

“Why would he be unconscious when he was conscious the entire time, hm?”

How you wished you could tear him apart again.

Your guilt bubbled over into anger the moment you registered his words and this was as soon as you entered the laboratory. Scaramouche’s eyes met yours, his expression smug and egocentric.

He tilted his head to the side in mockery. “What’s with the long face?”

[zyhkoo]

little spark ☆ ー REGULUS BLACK X READER. chapter 7

fluff, angst, regulus reunites with you, friends to lovers, co-parents

synopsis: with james and lily dead and sirius’s false conviction. regulus had escaped the death eaters with harry in his arms. his last resort was go to you, his former best friend and james’s sister. mlist

Regulus slowly stirred from his sleep, his eyes blinking open to greet the early morning light streaming through the window. He stretched a bit, letting out a soft yawn as he sat up in the bed. His thoughts immediately went to you and Harry, wondering if either of you were awake yet. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was still relatively early.

Although, Regulus knew that you and Harry would still be asleep at this time. So he decided to do it on his own. With a silent resolve, Regulus slowly got out of bed. He walked carefully, attempting not to make any noise.

He slipped out of the bedroom and crept down the stairs, heading to the closet under the huge box in the living room. Regulus carefully scrutinized the manual, studying the instructions on assembling the grand piano. The task was more complex than he had initially thought.

There were numerous pieces and parts, all of which needed to be put together in a specific order. He sighed, realizing that this would take some time and effort. But Regulus was determined. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

He pulled out the various components from the box, carefully handling each one with a sense of care. He followed the instructions in the manual, piecing together the intricate parts of the grand piano.

An hour passed, it was 7 am. Just in time for..

“Good morning.” Regulus heard a yawn as you descended from the stairs with a small sleepy Harry in your arms. Your eyed widened “Oh wow, setting up already?” Regulus looked up from the grand piano, his attention shifting to you as you arrived with Harry in your arms. The infant was still half-asleep, rubbing his eyes with his tiny hands.

Regulus nodded with a proud smile, "Morning. And yes, I couldn't wait any longer. This beauty needed to be put together." You nodded, “Okay, sweet or bitter.. huh you’re halfway?” you glanced at him. Regulus glanced up from the piano once more, his gaze meeting yours as he considered your question.

"Halfway, yes," he confirmed. "And I will appreciate some sweetener in my coffee, please."

“Sure.” you placed Harry’s food on his table and started to prepare breakfast. Regulus continued working on assembling the grand piano, his nimble fingers piecing together the various components. With each part he added, the instrument took shape, its majestic form starting to emerge.

He occasionally glanced your way, watching as you moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for both of you. “Here you go.” you placed the platter on the floor beside him.

Regulus looked up from the piano, his eyes meeting the platter of breakfast you had placed beside him. He smiled in appreciation, his stomach rumbling at the sight and smell of the food. "Thank you," he said, pausing his work to take a sip of the coffee. The hot liquid slid down his throat, providing a much-needed energizing boost.

“Want me to help?” you asked. Regulus looked up at you, a small smile on his lips. He was about to refuse, to say that he was perfectly capable of handling the task on his own. But the truth was, your help would expedite the process. "I suppose a bit of help wouldn't hurt," he conceded, stepping back from the piano to allow you to join in. You nodded “I don’t mind. Alright, what do you want me to do?” you took a spoon of your cereal.

Regulus pointed to a section of the piano that was still partially assembled. "You can start over there," he instructed. "The manual is over there," he gestured towards where the manual was laid out on the carpet. He took a bite of his food before continuing, "There are a few parts that need to be connected. Just follow the instructions in the manual, and you'll manage just fine."

“I got it.” you took the pieces and started to assemble some pieces. Regulus watched as you started to work on assembling the piano pieces, his gaze occasionally flickering between you and the manual. He couldn't help but admire your focused expression, your determined demeanor, and the way you carefully handled the different parts.

You caught his glance “Why are you smiling?” Regulus quickly averted his gaze, a small blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. "No reason," he said quickly, trying to seem nonchalant, "Just enjoying the view, that's all."

“The view? The window is behind me.” looks like your brain was still half asleep. Regulus felt his blush deepen at your question. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit foolish for his poor attempt at deception. "Not the window," he mumbled, "You, I meant. I was enjoying the view of you."

You flushed “Ugh, I’m too tired for praise Reg.” you looked away from him.

Regulus couldn't help but grin at your reaction. He chuckled softly, "Since when are you shy? It's quite endearing, you know, seeing this side of you for once." You frowned “Okay then maybe I won’t work on this.” he approached you "Oh, come on." He reached out and poked your shoulder lightly. "You know I was just teasing you. And I really do appreciate your help, even if you are tired and cranky this morning."

“…”

Regulus softened his tone, sensing that he'd perhaps gone a bit too far. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Hey, it was just a little harmless banter," he said, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. "Forgive me, please?"

You were silent, staring at his face for a moment then looking away. He could see the flush on your face even more. “I hate you.” you cursed, working on the piece. Regulus chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he had pushed your buttons, but it was harmless fun, of course.

"Of course you do," he said playfully. "That's why you're still helping me, even when you're tired and grumpy."

“It’s for you so..” you mumbled. Regulus's eyes softened, his expression growing warmer at your mumbled words. He knew that regardless of how grumpy you were acting, you cared deeply enough to still help him, all for the sake of making him happy. He didn't say anything more, opting instead to squeeze your hand in a silent 'thank you.' A small smile crept on your lips.

Regulus noticed the small smile on your lips, and a wave of affection washed over him. He loved these moments, when your defenses dropped, and he caught glimpses of the softer side you usually kept hidden. "There it is," he murmured, "That smile I like so much." you scoffed “Go work on your piano.” you playfully rolled your eyes.

Regulus chuckled, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting go. "Yes, yes, I'm going." he said, returning to the task of assembling the grand piano. As Harry started to make sounds, his small coos and babbles piercing the early morning quiet, Regulus couldn't help but glance over at the infant, a soft smile on his face.

"At least he’s not cranky," he noted, his attention shifting between the grand piano and Harry. You nodded “Yeah.” As Regulus continued to work on the grand piano, his hands moving with practiced ease, he couldn't help but cast occasional glances at Harry. The infant was a constant presence in their lives these days, a small and adorable bundle of noise and mess.

He thought back to all the changes that had occurred in their lives since Harry had arrived. It hadn't been easy, but in a strange way, it had also brought them closer together. “Hmm..” you wondered. Regulus noticed your thoughtful expression and couldn't help but be curious.

"You look like you're deep in thought," he said, pausing his work on the piano to look at you. "What's on your mind?"

“If Harry grows up, what is he going to call us?” you asked. The question caught Regulus off guard, and he paused to consider it. He hadn't thought much about that aspect before. "Honestly, I haven't given it much thought..." he admitted. "But I suppose it would be strange if he just called us by our names. Wouldn't it?"

“Aunt sounds old.” you shivered at the thought. "Yes, it does sound a bit too formal, doesn't it?" he agreed. "And I can hardly imagine Harry calling me 'uncle.' It seems rather... detached, somehow." You chuckled “Haha, Uncle Reggie.” Regulus grumbled at your words, a playful scowl forming on his face.

"Please don't call me that," he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "It...it makes me sound like a doting old man with a pocket watch and a cane." But there was a hint of embarrassment in his tone, indicating that your jibe had hit its mark. He resumed his work on the piano, hoping to quickly divert the conversation.

"I suppose we could let Harry decide what he wants to call us," he suggested, "once he starts talking, that is." You nodded “Nana sounds cute. But I want him to say something with my name..” You hummed, thinking “What's French for aunt?” you asked.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at your question, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He thought for a moment before replying. "The French word for ‘aunt’ is ‘tante,'" he said, pronouncing the word with a perfect French accent.

“It’s cute.” you commented while you ate cereal "And I'm sure Harry would have no problem pronouncing it once he starts talking. He's a bright little one, that much is clear already." he said. “You should teach him French when he grows.” you suggested. Regulus huffed at your suggestion. "Teaching him French? You're full of ideas this morning," he remarked.

"I suppose it would be valuable. Knowing a second language can only benefit him in the long run." The sound of Harry babbling caught both of and your attention. He was sitting in his high chair, tiny fists waving around as he made series of noises. Regulus chuckled softly, his expression softened at the sight of Harry. "Looks like someone is eager to join in the conversation," he noted, setting aside the pieces he was working on to focus on the infant.

“Uhuh. Like his bloody father.” you stood up and took Harry from the chair. "Oh, you're one to talk," he retorted lightly. "You're not exactly known for your quiet demeanor." You ignored him and planted a kiss on Harry’s forehead then placed him on his play pen. "Lucky kid, getting all the attention," he muttered under his breath. You turned to him “What did you say?” Regulus smirked at your disapproving tone, feigning innocence.

"Oh, nothing. Just muttering to myself, that's all," he said, returning to work on the piano as nonchalantly as possible. As the two of you continued to work on the grand piano assembly, a comfortable silence settled between you. The only noises were the occasional sounds Harry made as he played with his toys nearby.

Regulus looked over at you, his gaze scrutinizing the pieces you had assembled. He gave a nod of approval, a smile tugging at his lips. "Looks good," he said, getting up from the floor. "All the pieces are in place. We've done a decent job, I must say." “Well? Play it. Do you still remember how?” you crossed you arms.

Regulus chuckled at your challenge. "Of course I still remember how to play," he said, rolling his eyes playfully. He took a seat in front of the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys. "Any specific requests, or shall I just play whatever comes to mind?"

“Just play, anything you play sounds good.” Regulus smiled at your compliment, touched that you enjoyed his piano playing. "As you wish," he said, his fingers beginning to dance across the keys.

The soft, mellifluous melody filled the room, each note played with precision and finesse. It was a piece he had known and practiced many times, and he poured his soul into the performance. Regulus felt your presence beside him, and a warm contentment washed over him. Playing the piano was something he deeply enjoyed, and having you nearby, sharing this moment of music, only added to the experience.

His fingers glided effortlessly over the keys, the music flowing naturally from the instrument. “Oh, I know this song.” you said “Just the chorus though.” He stopped playing for a moment. "Oh, you know this one, do you?" he chuckled. "Go on then, sing along to the chorus. Let's see if you remember the lyrics as well."

“What? No way.” you protested. Regulus raised an eyebrow at your protest. He was having fun with this. "Oh come on, don’t be shy. Let me hear those vocals. I bet you've got a lovely singing voice, just like your piano assembly skills." You gave in “Fine, start playing.” Regulus smiled triumphantly. "With pleasure," he said, his fingers returning to the keys.

The soft, familiar melody began to fill the room once more, and Regulus continued playing, his eyes fixated on your face, waiting for you to start singing. As your voice began to fill the room, Regulus's eyes widened, momentarily distracted from playing. He was taken aback by how lovely you sounded singing, your voice flowing effortlessly over the melody.

He continued playing, his gaze alternating between the piano keys and your face, watching intently as you sang. With each passing verse, Regulus could feel a pleasant warmth spreading through his chest. Your voice was beautiful, a natural fit to the soulful song, and it stirred something within him. He found himself watching you more than the keys, his fingers moving almost automatically, the music now an afterthought.

The piece concluded, and so did your singing. For a moment, there was silence, a comfortable stillness that hung in the air. Regulus lifted his gaze from the piano to look at you, his expression soft and almost admiring. Regulus smiled at your question, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Nothing," he answered, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Just... your voice. It's quite nice, you know? I didn't expect you to sing so beautifully." You looked down “Thank you.” Regulus observed your expression, noting the slight change in your demeanor.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said gently, leaning towards you. "You really have a wonderful voice. Honestly, I could listen to you sing all day."

“You’re only telling me all of this because I got you a piano huh?” you bashfully covered your face. He reached out, gently prying your hands away from your face. "No, I'm saying it because it's true," he assured you, his touch tender against your skin. "The piano is just a bonus. Your voice... It's a gift. You should embrace it, not hide it away."

He held your gaze, his gaze steady and sincere. His fingers lingering on your hands, he took a moment to study your face, noting the slight flush to your cheeks. "You know I'm not one for empty compliments," he said softly, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "When I say your voice is beautiful, I mean it. You should know that by now."

You bumped your head onto his chest “I hate you, you have no idea what you do to me.” Regulus chuckled, his arms coming around you to hold you close. "I think I have a pretty good idea," he said, his voice a gentle rumble in his chest. "And I quite like the effect I have on you, for the record."

You didn’t answer, instead you encircled your arms around him. He held you to him tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head. He inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You," he murmured softly, "are a handful, you know that?"

“Sorry.” you muttered at him. Regulus chuckled again, feeling the curve of your smile against his chest. "Don't be sorry," he said, his voice warm and amused. "I think I like the way you are. Even if you are a handful. It's... endearing, in its own way." Regulus felt a sense of satisfaction at your change in demeanor. Normally, you were a firecracker, feisty, and loud-mouthed, he agreed. But now, here in his arms, you had turned soft, and silent. He found it oddly pleasant, though he'd never admit it aloud.

Regulus noticed your silence "You are quiet today," he observed, his fingers gently stroking your back. "No witty comebacks? No smartass remarks?" Regulus felt you grasp onto him tighter, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. He knew this wasn't just a physical act - you were holding onto him, seeking comfort, reassurance.

"I've got you," he murmured into your hair, his embrace growing tighter still. "You can hold on for as long as you want." You mumbled something in his chest. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat it?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble. He pulled back a little, just enough to tilt your head up so he could see your face.

“Maybe another time.” you answered. "Oh, don't tease me like that," he said, a hint of mock indignation in his tone. "Now you have to tell me. You can't just mumble something against my chest and then refuse to repeat it." You nuzzled on his shoulder, “You already know what it is.” you whispered.

Regulus chuckled softly at your words and the way you nuzzled into his shoulder. He knew exactly what you were referring to. "Yes, I know," he murmured back, his voice low and soft against your ear. "But I want to hear you say it. You know why."

“Don’t torture me.” you groaned. Regulus chuckled, enjoying your flustered state. "I'm not torturing you," he protested, although the glint in his eyes indicated he was having fun doing just that.

"I just want to hear you say it," he repeated, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is that so difficult?" You whispered again, but this time he heard it. Regulus's breath hitched at your confession, his heart skipping a beat. He'd expected it, sure, but hearing the words from your lips still had a profound effect on him.

He pulled you tighter against him, his voice a soft murmur. "Me too," he said, his words warm and tender. "Perhaps just as much, if not more."

taglist: @jqtaro @ampal98 @wizzerreblogs

[microlitseo]

The Future of Liquid Handling: Smart Instruments and IoT Integration

The field of liquid handling is undergoing a significant transformation, driven by advancements in technology. Smart instruments and the integration of the Internet of Things (IoT) are reshaping the way laboratories operate, offering enhanced efficiency, accuracy, and data management capabilities.

Smart Instruments: A New Era of Liquid Handling

Smart instruments are equipped with advanced features such as:

Touchscreen interfaces: Intuitive and easy-to-use touchscreens streamline operation and reduce the risk of errors.

Connectivity: Built-in Wi-Fi or Bluetooth capabilities enable seamless integration with other devices and systems.

Data logging: Automatic recording of experimental data for efficient analysis and reporting.

Real-time monitoring: Continuous tracking of instrument performance and parameters.

Self-calibration: Automated pipette calibration or any other instrument procedures ensure accuracy and reliability.

These features empower researchers to perform tasks more efficiently and effectively, while also reducing the risk of human error.

The Power of IoT Integration

The integration of IoT technology with liquid handling instruments offers numerous benefits, including:

Remote monitoring and control: Laboratories can monitor and control instruments from anywhere in the world, enabling remote operation and troubleshooting.

Data management and analysis: IoT-enabled instruments can generate vast amounts of data, which can be analyzed to gain valuable insights into experimental processes. 

Improved efficiency: Automated workflows and real-time data can streamline laboratory operations and reduce turnaround times. 

Enhanced safety: IoT sensors can detect potential hazards and trigger alarms, improving laboratory safety. 

Integration with other systems: IoT-enabled instruments can be seamlessly integrated with laboratory information management systems (LIMS) and other laboratory equipment, creating a connected and efficient laboratory environment. 

Applications of Smart Instruments and IoT

The combination of smart instruments and IoT technology has a wide range of applications in various scientific fields, including:

Life sciences: Research, development, and quality control in pharmaceutical, biotechnology, and medical device industries.

Chemistry: Analytical chemistry, materials science, and environmental testing.

Biotechnology: Genomics, proteomics, and cell biology research.

Food and beverage: Quality control, testing, and production processes.

Environmental science: Water quality monitoring, pollution analysis, and climate research. 

The Future of Liquid Handling

As technology continues to advance, we can expect to see even more innovative and sophisticated smart instruments and IoT-enabled solutions in the future. These advancements will further revolutionize the way laboratories operate, making them more efficient, accurate, and data-driven. In conclusion, the integration of smart instruments and IoT technology is transforming the landscape of liquid handling. By offering enhanced features, improved efficiency, and data-driven insights, these technologies are empowering researchers to achieve new levels of productivity and accuracy in their work.

[liquidhandlingproduct]

What are the different types of Medical Lab Instruments?

Pharmaceutical and scientific research laboratories conduct numerous chemical and biological tests daily. To ensure precise and accurate results, these labs rely on a diverse array of advanced and sophisticated equipment. Let's examine some of the medical lab instruments commonly found in a pharmaceutical research lab and explore their applications.

[oneshotnewbie]

Can I request Spencer Hastings x Reader where A actually made Spencer hurt someone while being at the dollhouse where she is covered in blood and it's Reader? At the hospital Aria sees that Reader gets stitched up because she is having a deep cut from a knife and tells the other when she goes to Spencer's room? Spencer is all worried because you changed since then and are all quite and not that bubbly she used to know you and she also knows that A took all the anger out of Reader and she had to take the most shit because A thinks that Reader is the weakest member of the girls squad? At home Reader doesn't want to talk to Spencer or the girls at all until Spencer is all messed up on her door and crying her eyes out because she remembers what happens? Angst and fluff please???!

⚠️Trigger warning! ⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of kidnapping, blood, stabbing/cutting wounds. These plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

---

Two months. Your friends and you had struggled to survive for two whole months.

A had played games with you, tortured, despised and treated you as puppets. Asking so much mentally that you all didn't even know what you should feel after your, almost failed, escape. At least not you.

You didn't know how you could ever be around your best friends again after A urged you to shock them, choose who was next to play his sick game and who wasn't allowed to get water for the next few days. But apparently they had taken out their desperation on you too; you didn't get anything to drink or eat for days. A even managed to bring Spencer to hurt you.

And now you were out of the underground hell and had no idea what to do next and how you should behave towards Spencer. She apparently had no idea about the night when you woke up on her bedroom floor, your best friend attacking you like a fury and hurting you; A had probably put her on some kind of drug.

But you escaped the chaos thanks to Alison and were now in the hospital for observation according to the circumstances and the lack of nutrients. Mentally you had suffered a lot and it was not easy for all of you to return to a regular life but you knew that somehow, the girls would get through it.

While the others had probably gathered to talk about what had happened, you were bound to your bed and frankly you were glad for it. Standing across from Spencer would be too uncomfortable for you at the moment.

You looked at the ceiling with your lackluster eyes while you gave the doctor the time to sew up the last few inches of your abdominal wound, not really listening to him or the words that came out of his mouth- Your thoughts completely wandering off.

They were repeatedly disturbed by a gentle drop of the liquid flowing to your vein and it was unbearable for you to hear this noise, it brought you back to the place where you didn't hear anything else except the ticking clock in your supposedly own room.

With a violent pull, the door to your room opened with a loud squeak and you jumped up before you let yourself fall back onto the couch with a wrinkled nose, a pained face and tightly closed eyes.

"I´m sorry. I did not know-eh." the short brunette stuttered as she stood in the doorway and looked at you in shock. Staring eyes and an open mouth embraced the long cut on your stomach, which stretched sideways to your navel.

A little embarrassed, you pulled the piece of cloth you were wearing over the doctor´s hands to uselessly hide the cut - she´d already seen it anyway. The old man in front of you stopped in his movements and put the instruments he had a hold of in his hands aside before turning to Aria. "I am asking you to leave. We´re in the middle of a treatment."

She nodded quickly apologized before she took a few steps back, still confused without further speaking, and the door clicked shut with a soft click.

You actually intended to keep it a secret from your friends, but you knew that as soon as Aria entered the other girls room, she would tell them what she had seen and you had no chance to talk your way out of it.

And then the whole truth would come out.

---

Confused by the imagine she had of her best friend and the huge gap on her abdomen a few seconds ago, the little brunette walked quickly down the hospital corridor to get to Spencer´s room where they all wanted to meet up.

She had not learned anything from just now and threw herself against the heavy door to open it, also without knocking first, and now stood in the entrance of the bare room. Three tired and lost pairs of eyes settled on her and surveyed the enraged statue, which stood in front of them with a wide open mouth.

Completely isolated in her thoughts, Aria sat down on one of the chairs that Emily had already placed in front of Spencer´s bed and fumbled around with her fingers. She bit her lip bloody from sheer worry and not knowing when the deep and long cut on your stomach was made and who was responsible for it, but one thing was clear; if she found out who A was, she would kill him for the pain that person had caused you and the others.

"Earth to Aria.. are you okay?" Hanna tore her out of her thoughts and gently nudged the smallest of the pack. Now Spencer and Emily, who were talking wildly earlier, had stopped and looked eagerly at the brunette. "Yes.. no. I´m okay but Y/n is not."

"What about her? Have you seen her?" Spencer abruptly intervened in the conversation, sitting up from her laying position. Her voice had lost it´s tone, was hoarse and low, even though she had just sounded perfectly normal not too long ago. "What happened?"

"I went to check on her because I was worried and then I saw how she was being treated." Aria quietly informed her friends as she cleared her throat and started playing with her fingernails. "She has a huge cut on her stomach. Something happened to her down there and she has not told us anything."

Shocked looks turned to the youngest of the group and she pushed back in the chair. Crossing her legs and arms, Aria looked back and forth between the girls and caught on to Spencer. She could clearly see the brunettes pulse in the main artery of her neck, the trembling of her dilated pupils surrounded by nervousness.

---

The situation between Spencer and you lay like a stone on the brunettes heart. Through therapy sessions with Sullivan, she had managed to partially bring her memories back to the fore.

The person she did this to was still fuzzy but it must have been you; the wound Aria had told her about matching where the blade in her hand pierced through the body beneath her. She had felt it was you. Of that she was sure.

But you remained silent about this situation as if this event had not happened in your reality. A week had passed in which you were discharged from the hospital with a whole medicine cabinet. Since then, you had been holed up in your room at your family home with no communication to Spencer.

Calls and messages flooded your phone, even literally exploding it with requests about getting in touch with her; at least let her know how you are doing. But she never got a single answer and your chat remained empty from your side.

The paths to your front door were softly lit as she walked through them. Flares were placed to the right and left of the pacing stone and illuminated the entire flower-planet front yard. The sprinkler system whirred next to her as she took one step after the other.

On the way here, she had given herself a motivational speech, but it disappeared with ever step she took.

Reaching the mahogany-like doors, she stood motionless and still on the patio. Her heart raced as she exhaled shakily and began pounding on them. It was a cooler evening, one of the firsts when she thought about it, and it had been too cold to wear a loose shirt. Spencer would have preferred a sweater, but that was of secondary importance.

As she waited, her mind filled with a bitter emptiness. She was terrified of a confrontation with you, but it would help her understand how you were feeling and how she could make amends. If anything. The brunette wanted to be pragmatic- the most efficient way to get a satisfactory answer.

Slow footsteps sounded on the other side of the door and she thumped heavily when she heard your faint voice in the distance. She huffed and ran a hand over her long brown hair before the door opened abruptly, revealing your pale and tired features under the hood of your white hoodie.

"Y/n.." she spoke cautiously and did not dare to look at you any further. She could see the pain you were in and Spencer felt even more guilty than before. She cleared her throat, nervously pulling her hands to strap of her bag that slung over her shoulder. "Before you slam the door in my face, listen to me. Please,"

You remained silent, disbelieving who you had in front of you.

Spencer could judge by your body language that you were more than just uncomfortable. All muscles tensed in your thighs through the dark blue ripped jeans you were wearing, your hands were tucked deep in the kangaroo pocket of your hoodie and yet she could tell you were fiddling with your fingernails nervously.

Without saying a word, you moved to the side and let her into the house. As she passed thankfully with pleading eyes, she breathed in deeply the floral perfume you were wearing. Spencer missed your closeness and your warmth towards her so much that she clung to every breadcrumb that was given to her in that moment.

"Are you home alone?" she asked in irritation as she was enveloped in the silence of the walls and saw only the flickering TV in the living room. You nodded firmly, your hands mostly tucked into your sleeves and positioned in front of your body. "My parents flew to Paris"

"And left you alone after you went through hell?!"

"What do you want, Spencer?" you shouted angrily and turned your head to her with a rigid expression. Your sudden explosion let her loosen from her rigidity before she stared at you with wide eyes and you thought you saw fear flicker in her eyes for a brief moment. "I do not think you came here to judge my parents."

The mood was strange. Cold, distant and restless. The unspoken swelled between the two of you. Sadness and fear burned in your chest while your best friend had a tiny spark of hope that she was trying to weave into normal conversation.

Motionless, the addressed person sat in front of you, looked deep into your pain-piercing eyes while tears stung hers. Spencer's heart was pounding deep in her chest and it had probably reached it´s highest point now. It pounded in her head, throat, abdomen and paralyzed her. It was indescribable.

The brunette swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She rested her elbows on the marble area and buried her head in her hands before rubbing across her nose. Very sheepishly with a shaky voice, she continued. "I know what I did. I remember."

Beside her you gasped and bit your lip, she could not quite identify the emotion she saw in your eyes. Where before there had been a coldness and severity, she now found something else. "W-what?" you said cautiously in a cracked voice.

Spencer kept shifting nervously on the bar stool, her hands alternately clawing at her pants, the counter in front of her or the disappeared back to the shoulder bag. "Just go now, Spencer. Please-I," you spoke suddenly, breaking her train of thought.

You ran a hand through your tousled hair nervously. "Y/n," she cut you off sharpy and your chest tightened. You found it difficult to breathe.

Spencer took another breath, ready to either explain or,what you thought was, more likely an apology. But she did not get around to it; you continued in a loud raging voice. "Do you actually know what I had to go through when you fucking came at me like a madman?"

You practically yelled at her, your voice already hoarse. You saw in your veil of tears how the older one flinched and her shoulders wandered to her ears. Nevertheless, she did not break her deep gaze, but got caught in your teary eyes. They had darkened. "Or how it felt to look into my best friend´s eyes, begging her not to do it while the knife was already penetrating my skin?"

The brunette felt like she was a little kid again. When she smashed the window with the hockey ball and was getting the lecture of the century from her parents. However, she would not end up in your comforting arms after she shed the first tears. You would not reassuringly run your fingers through her hair or insist that it was just glass and could easily be replaced.

No, this situation went much deeper.

Spencer opened her mouth that suddenly dried out. Tears streamed down her face in unison with yours and she let her eyes roam over you again. "I am so sorry.." she could not pronounce it, her throat tightening with every word. "I could never hurt you. A did something to me and that monster was not me. It is not me. I love you."

The leadership she took at the moment, trying to explain her actions, distracted from your troubled insides. You could not completely turn off your heart and the thoughts of the past hours and days.

Still, you knew her words were serious and she was genuinely sorry. It broke your heart to see her so upset. She too was under the influence of drugs that A had given her to commit the crime. You exhaled loudly and just looked at her, could not keep your mind from racing.

Slowly, you circled the counter and stepped carefully to her side. Your fingertips gently touched her cold, trembling and bare forearm. Spencer reacted to the touch she thought was impossible immediately and looked at you. A positive feeling flowed through her and she laid her head at the level of your belly button. You flinched at the pain, but swallowed it to keep her close.

You cupped her sticky, sweaty fingers and intertwined them with yours. Indescribable affection went through the brunette and she drew herself closer to the person who understood her so well. Who went through this hard time with her and who would master recovery together.

Relief flowed through the eldest, you could see it in her face which showed the corners of her mouth far raised. She knew that she still had a rough road with you ahead and that she had to help you to trust her completely again. Above all, you needed someone to overcome the nightmare and the anxiety.

But most of the ballast had fallen off her. A decisive step in the right direction.

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP19 (Requiem For Methuselah) let me guess. Kirk is romancing.

Forthwards:

- beaming down together <3

- uh oh a time limit!

- Spock grabs McCoy’s arm to get him out of the way of the fire

- very drawable right here

- Kirk is not fucking around today

- wow. Just wow.

- A SHAKESPEARE FIRST FOLIO?!? This guy is fucking rich holy shit

- She’s just like me when I watch Star Trek

- I like that she wants to talk to Spock about science :))

- “What is loneliness?” “It is a thirst. It is a flower dying in a desert.” Wow

- “Thank you, Doctor. I will have a brandy.” “Do you think the two of us can handle a drunk Vulcan? Once alcohol hits that green blood—” They’re adorable

- fuck off fuck off fuck off (edit: this is probably about them immediately flirting with Rayna)

- Bottles of colourful liquid. You think one of them is ketchup?

- Does Kirk know how to play pool? Is she showing him for no reason? He seems to know what he’s doing…

- I love that Spock likes playing musical instruments

- His boyfriend is dancing with a woman RIGHT THERE. I wonder what a rewrite of this would be like with canonical queer Kirk in a relationship with Spock and McCoy and why he would choose to dance with her. Cause I think he should be able to just enjoy doing stuff like dancing and holding hands without it being romantic. AND THEN MCCOY WALKS INTO THAT OMG THE DRAMA

- Damn Kirk isn’t interested in Spock’s info dump about Brahms. Tragic.

- and they’re kissing

- The way Kirk just pushed her out of the way-

- YEAH SAVE YOUR BOYFRIEND SPOCK!!!

- Flint kinda wishes that the bot killed Kirk

- Yeah it sucks to be home schooled

- This is becoming like Twilight but without the baseball and vampires

- This is a horrible power imbalance between Flint and Rayna

- And they’re kissing (Nichelle nichols futurama clip where she says "I had to kiss Shatner) (edit: here's the clip at 1:26)

- WHY IS HE SHAKING HER LIKE THAT BRO WHAT THE FUCK

- Kirk’s ass damn why is Flint hiding the Ryetalyn

- “(Spock): Captain, I shall get the Ryetalyn.” “(Kirk): Why you?” “(Spock): There may be dangers within.” “(Kirk): Let’s find out.” “(Spock): Let me go alone captain.” “(McCoy): Why? Get to the point, Spock. If there is one.” “(Kirk): We’ll all go.” Kirk and McCoy ARE NOT about to let they’re boyfriend go into a dangerous area alone

- OMG SHES BALD! (She’s bald and she’s torturing people who have hair)

- “Her only flaw, she is not human.” THATS HER FLAW??? First off Spock is RIGHT THERE. Second I'd say the flaw is that she's being controlled by a awful man

- Wait what? this guy is DA VINCI?!? And still no bitches...

- “She is my handiwork, my property.” EW DISGUSTING KILL HIM

- HE JUST BLOOPED THE ENTERPRISE OUT OF EXISTENCE

- I’m giggling

- “Give me back my ship. Your secret is safe with us.” YOU’RE JUST GONNA LEAVE HER?

- “Because you knew I could bring her emotions alive.” Bleh

- Kirk gets absolutely beat the fuck up

- “No. Do not order me. No one can order me.” YES GET IT! YES

- “She’s human. Down to the last blood cell she’s human. Down to the last thought, hope, aspiration, emotion. She’s human. Her human spirit is free. You have no power of ownership! She’s free to do as she wishes.” Kirk’s so happy for her!

- “No man beats me.” “I don’t want to beat you. This is no test of power. Rayna belongs to herself, and she claims the human right of choice. To be, as she wills. To do as she wills. To think as she wills.”

- Okay but she shouldn’t have to choose between two men. There’s so many more out there in the galaxy

- OH NO DHES SEAD

- “What happened?” “She loved you, captain.” Spock just admitted Kirk’s drop dead gorgeous

- This is giving boyfriend vs. father vibes which I hate. I hate that this is how women are treated. As burdens to be thrown from one man to the next. This is reminding me of A Dolls House by Henrik Ibsen it's a pretty short play and the ending is phenomenal for the time

- Kirk is lonely :(

- “If only I could forget.” Spock spends several seconds staring at Kirk and contemplating until McCoy comes in

“Oh thank heavens, sleeping at last.” McCoy just wants Kirk to get a good nights rest

- yeah

- “You see, I feel sorrier for you I do for him…because you’ll never know the things that love can drive a man to. The ecstasies, the miseries. The broken rules, the desperate chances. The glorious failures, and the glorious victories. All of these things you’ll never know, simply because the word ‘love’ isn’t written into your book. Good night, Spock.” “Good night, Doctor.” WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT AND WHY HAVENT I SEEN AN EDIT TO THAT. Also now I REALLY wanna write a mcspirk fanfic based solely on THAT

- “I do wish he could forget her.” BOTH McCoy and Kirk wished for this and so Spock does something crazy for his loves omg omg I’m gonna throw up wtf

- there’s literally romantic music playing in the background as Spock leans down to mind meld and says “forget”

Well

Masterpost

Episode written by Jerome Bixby

[californiaboytoybilly]

Oooh! Okay, um, how about Harringrove + breakfast?

“Hey no! Don’t you dare-” Billy couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as he wrestled a sticky, dripping syrup wand away from his boyfriend, craning his neck as far back as he physically could to avoid having it smeared across his cheek. Steve grunted, still trying to fight back even as giggles started to crack through his affronted expression. “Then take it back! I am not a bad cook!” Billy side eyed the tray table, gaze darting from the plate of more-than-slightly burnt pancakes to the slightly too wet to be edible scrambled eggs sitting in a milky puddle of unspecified liquid. He slid his eyes back to Steve and raised an eyebrow, lip curled a little into an expression that implored ‘are you sure about that?’.

It had been a sweet offer, really. Breakfast in bed to celebrate their first night as a real, adult couple finally living in their own apartment. But just because they’d been together for a year didn’t mean there weren’t new things to learn about each other, including apparently that Steve was an abominable cook. A righteous squawk preceeded a renewal in Steve’s efforts, with an advantage now as Billy couldn’t stop laughing long enough to really put his full focus into the resistance. It was barely fifteen seconds before Steve managed to win out, Billy’s sugary hand slipping off the handle at last. The blonde definitely didn’t shriek when the instrument rubbed against his cheek, leaving a trail of butter flavored corn syrup from his jaw to the edge of his nose- nor did he grin like a lovesick fool when Steve leaned down to lick the syrup off the stubbled skin of his cheek, perched triumphantly on his lap in their brand new bed.

(Steve would not agree with this version of events when later recalling the tale on the day of their wedding, thirty years from their beginning. It had taken the world a little longer to understand their love than they may have hoped in their youth, but they’d stood the test of time and loved each other through every sticky minute.)

[iwashieonhiatus]

"𝘗𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥" (18+) |𝘙𝘖𝘙

ft. Hermes

∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊· synopsis: Hermes’ hands are too beautiful for you not to notice.

･ﾟﾟ･｡　wc: 969k + warnings- mdni, nsfw content, f!reader, fingering, crying, established relationship, petnames (pretty girl+good girl).

— ☆ A/N: I know he's not a pianist, but hey, look at his hands, they could be and those long fingers don't deny it

----------------------------- ☆ ----------------------------------------------

It was normal at some point in the day for you to hear the sound of the violin, a smile appearing on your lips as you followed the sound to appreciate Hermes playing the instrument so beautifully.

It was magnificent to see him playing; the expressions, the body reacting to the chords, the agile fingers producing beautiful sounds. You loved it more and more. That moment was magnetic, you couldn’t look away from his hands.

Ah, what hands… The long, agile fingers covered by the gloves made you imaginative.

His hands could have been a pianist’s and when asked, he said he could play too and when he showed you; you were more mesmerized by those pretty long fingers.

Those fingers could do so much. You could do so much for those fingers inside you.

“Eh, do you like my fingers that much, pretty girl?” Hermes’ calm voice was so low compared to yours, moaning for him.

You waved your arms, a futile attempt as they were tied above your head and your legs were spread wide, welcoming Hermes in the middle, playing with your wet pussy.

“Use your words, pretty.” You groaned, cocking your head to the side as you felt his bare middle finger slipping inside.

“Y-Yes.” You responded and felt his warm breath on your leg, middle finger in and out and calloused thumb circling your swollen clit.

“Yes, what?” You mumbled, and he pressed his thumb, making you lift your hips off the bed.

“I like your hands…”

“And what else?” He poked another calloused finger, and you squinted, squeezing his digits and sighing heavily. “Huh?”

You writhed on the bed, feeling his fingers slowly in and out and his thumb still playing with your clit, making you wetter. You were already wet enough for the liquid to run down your thighs and smear Hermes’ fingers. His fingers just grazing your folds as you kissed slowly were enough to have you wet, rubbing against his hand.

But Hermes wanted much more than that. You knew he wanted a mess as you moaned his name.

“Your fingers are long… nimble- Oh fuck!” He chuckled softly, and you bucked against the fingers curling inside you.

Hermes continued to pistol his fingers at a slow pace, making you whimper and squirm in search of more. He would twirl his fingers and push them in and out, having you rolling your eyes and moaning his name.

“Her-Hermes, please…” He ignored your plea and continued with the motions, eyes intent on you, receiving every moan, sigh and pleading look you gave him.

“Will you handle one more?” You opened your eyes, staring at him, still feeling his fingers working on you. The dark eyes gleaming and the scarlet drawings contorted by his sadistic expression.

“Hermes, please….” You tried to get up, wiggling your tied arms and legs around his upper body, earning a hand pushing you down again.

“No, no, my love.” His face softening into a sad expression and wagging the index finger of his other hand, still covered by the glove. “Aren’t you my good girl?”

You nodded, shuddering at the feel of another finger teasing your entrance. “So you take one more, like the good girl you are.”

You moaned his name, throwing your head back, feeling three of his fingers stretching you and giving you pleasure as he entered and exited with more speed.

“Good girl.”

You shuddered and squeezed his fingers, moaning for more as you closed your eyes shut. He quickened his movements, thrusting his fingers inside you, making you lift your hips off the bed and beg for him.

Your moans, the wet noise of his fingers going in and out of you, were like music to him as he hummed contentedly, his eyes glued to your writhing figure on the bed.

“Her-Hermes!” He sped up the movements, the muscles in his hand and arm contracting, all to please you.

“Is my good girl close?” He knew the answer just by the way your legs quivered and the way your greedy pussy squeezed and sucked on his fingers.

“Y-Yes! Hermes…” You whimpered his name, your eyes blurred with tears, begging him to give you the pleasure those long, agile fingers were bringing you.

“Then should I…” You choked on a moan as you felt his mouth sucking on your clit and his hot tongue playing in circles. That knot in your stomach is tightening tighter and tighter.

“Hermes!” you moaned, feeling the knot dissolve in pleasure and the liquid gushing out, smearing his face and hand, which were still thrusting in and out quickly, trying to take every last taste from you with his mouth, gulping your juice.

“My good girl…” He withdrew his smeared fingers and brought them to his mouth, savoring your taste and wiped his face with the back of his hand, bringing it to your mouth for you to lick.

He grinned, eyes gleaming at you calming down from your orgasm; chest rising and falling slowly, face flushed, hazy eyes at him, and legs trembling.

Hermes couldn’t hide his smile of satisfaction, knowing that only he could give you the best orgasm with just his long and agile fingers.

You saw him remove his uniform and the bulge in his underwear, soon feeling his weight on top of you as he lowered his waist against yours, brushing your clit and gaining a weak moan from you.

“Will my good girl help me?” You shuddered at the feeling of his waist against yours and the wet kisses on your neck. You nodded, grinding against him, feeling his hard cock throb.

He removed the piece, returning to between your legs, putting the remaining glove in your mouth and with firm hands, caressing your waist, thrust his cock inside you. “Good girl."

---------------------------- ☆ ----------------------------------------------

© iwashie 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[ajgrey9647]

Offering them up as the entertainment to party guests to do with as they please: Sentries Skull & Adam~

The Real Lady Drakkon

She cast discrete glances through her long lashes, lifting the crystal wine glass with its pool of deeply scarlet liquid to her lips. The flickering light from the chandeliers played across Lord Drakkon’s angular features, which were more pronounced than the Tommy Oliver of Scorpina’s world. He was older than the boy she’d once fought alongside during the height of Rita’s Green Ranger days, twenty years older by the tyrant’s estimate. A fine weaving of black veins ghosted the flesh of his neck, reaching as high as his hollowed cheek bones as if the man bore an infectious disease.

‘An overload of Grid energy,’ the woman noted. ‘Mere humans were not meant to use the power of two coins at the same time. Their pitiful bodies can’t handle the side effects.’

To her discerning eye, however, Lord Drakkon appeared to be tolerating the combined energy quite well. Strapped with thick muscle unlike the lanky, leaner Green Ranger, he boasted an impressive physique under the elaborate formal attire that stretched snugly over his biceps and chest. Definitely not hard on the eyes if Scorpina could ignore the memories of the freckle-faced, childish Tommy Oliver, who somehow turned into quite the wet blanket once freed from Rita’s obedience spell.

She hadn’t foreseen becoming trapped in an alternate universe in her future, certainly not one as dystopian and… ‘Gothic’ was the term she needed, yet the alien bounty hunter wasn’t familiar with such human terminology. Here in the Coinless realm, Rita Repulsa had won, destroying the Rangers and taking over the Earth.

But such feats had cost the witch her life, dying at the hands of those snot-nosed little brats before they’d scattered like a nest of cockroaches. Scorpina found herself under the protective gauntlet of this ‘Lord Drakkon’, a more aggressive and lethal version of Tommy, who’d taken the reigns and ruled over this bizarre Wonderland.

Tonight, he’d thrown a grand ball to celebrate her arrival and make the proper introductions to the aristocracy. The cavernous room seemed to sparkle as the array of candlelight reflected off the cut crystal vases, wine decanters, and goblets, twinkling upon the handles of sterling silver and ivory utensils, and highlighting the intricate engraving of the fine China plates and bowls.

Fragrant blooms tumbled over the lips of vases situated in the middle of linen-covered tables and the music of stringed instruments floated delicately through the air, playing music of a by-gone era. Several of the aristocracy, bedecked in jewels, silks, furs, and sweeping ballgowns twirled across the dance floor in something Drakkon informed her was called a ‘waltz’, before taking his place at the head of the table.

As he sat staring down at the grandeur of his wealth and power, the man’s expression was impassive, almost bored. Idly, he swirled the wine in his chalice, taking the smallest of sips as an afterthought. The plate before him boasted an aromatic cut of lamb with mint sauce, new potatoes swimming in rich butter, and bourbon-glazed carrots, all untouched. It smelled delicious to Scorpina and she was confused as to why the evil Ranger allowed it to grow cold as the band continued to play and the dancers gracefully executed the elaborate steps in a harmonious rhythm.

Lord Drakkon must have felt her eyes trailing over him and, when he slowly turned his head in her direction, she quickly averted her face, cheeks flaming. Quickly, the petite woman pretended to be engrossed in the activity taking place just across the room from where all the gaiety was taking place. For those uninterested in dancing or feasting, the tyrant had thoughtfully catered to a different sort of appetite, one that jarred with the fancy, ethereal ball going on about them.

A select number of Sentry guards, boasting all colors and ranks, were contorted in various positions in all stages of undress as they serviced Drakkon’s sycophants, each man’s face etched in sheer passion and enthusiasm though they truly felt anything but…

There was a steep price to pay if one didn’t play ball, so to speak… If they were to sour the illusion and the fun being had…

One of them, a dark-haired Red Sentry Captain, artfully managed to sit astride one partner while also being mounted from behind before a third cock found its way into the inviting mouth. The sweaty drunks grunted and groaned, sounding like pigs in mud as they used this guard like an old gym sock.

Scorpina had to admit that the Sentry had talent, moving in tandem with the motions of the bloated bodies crushing against his own.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?” Drakkon’s rich, elegant voice cut into her thoughts.

The evil Ranger’s deadly fingers uncurled from the stem of his wine glass, the action strangely mesmerizing, as he settled it on the tabletop before he hooked one to summon one of his servants.

“Refresh the lady’s beverage,” he ordered icily.

His mouth smoothly shifted into a flirtatious smile when he again met Scorpina’s eyes.

The warrior curled her moist ruby lips, slowly licking the lingering drops of red wine from the lower.

“Yes, your lordship. I appreciate all the generosity you’ve bestowed upon me,” she purred.

Lord Drakkon favored her with a grin of his own, the sight more one of horror than friendly endearment.

“You are most welcome, Scorpina. A friend of my former empress is a friend of mine,” he responded, the sentiment sounding as if read from a script. “Rita was a remarkable woman. It was an honor to serve her.”

The loud moaning of several men reaching climax erupted from the ‘dark side’ of the ballroom, though the tyrant remained as nonchalant about the interruption as he would a bird swooping through the sky.

“I’m sure that you long as much as I do to avenge our empress’s demise at the hands of those troublesome Coinless filth.”

Tears pricked Scorpina’s eyes, and they glistened in the candlelight.

“I can’t believe they killed her… I thought Rangers had some type of hero’s code or something,” she growled.

This Coinless universe was very different from the one she knew, a place ‘out-of-time’, relegated back to the days of old. The social hierarchy was something the woman warrior intended to commit to heart, knowing that the best odds for survival came with aligning with the one most powerful.

Drakkon grunted dismissively, his eyes staring out into the bustle of the ballroom.

“As I did as well. However, teenagers can be…fickle. Impulsive. Temperamental.”

Pushing his chair back from the table, he hauled his large form from the upholstered seat, garnering the attention of the others in attendance. Gracefully, Drakkon strode to Scorpina’s side, pausing to hold out a gloved hand, his glossy, gray-streaked mane brushing his waist when he bowed.

“Care for a waltz? I’m an excellent teacher,” he cooed.

A chilly aura radiated from his proffered arm, whether due to the combined, bastardized coin or his own person, she was uncertain. But clearly, this was the one she needed to beguile; she would just have to ignore the fact that this was essentially the more deadly twin of the boneheaded Tommy Oliver.

Batting her lashes playfully, she pretended to dry her eyes and accepted the invitation.

“I’d love to, Lord Drakkon,” she whispered breathily as she daintily placed her fingers over the glove’s alarmingly cold silk.

He assisted the woman to her feet, then the pair skirted the length of the expansive, linen-draped table; the villain guiding her gallantly as if they were in some old-fashioned romance novel. All eyes were on them when they reached the dance floor and Scorpina pressed her svelte form seductively against the tyrant’s body.

Lord Drakkon seemed to loom over her, his hulking build dwarfing her own, much like a grizzly bear balanced on its hind legs. The thought of those rippling muscles sent a tingle directly to her groin and she wandered if the man could feel her nipples, not constrained by any bra or bodice, through the silk of their garments. If he did, his expression didn’t give it away as he began to grandly twirl her about the ballroom.

From the head table, Drakkon’s two ‘head guards’ kept watching, their attention sweeping the grand room for any signs of dangerous foe.

The Ranger Slayer, an older, more hostile version of that annoying Kimberly Hart, was dressed in a daring black and pink ball gown, the skirt split up the thigh to accommodate a tussle if one was called for. Her brown hair shorn and ears sporting multiple piercings, along with a battle-hardened brittleness to her pretty features, almost made her unrecognizable as the former Pink Ranger.

Watching with detachment as her master moved about the room with Scorpina on his arm, the Slayer’s expression never altered much as if she were incapable of expressing any emotion.

Not so with the lithe, gray-haired man that had been eating at Drakkon’s right hand, his lowly position accentuated by his place on the floor instead of at the table proper. However, his formal attire was a black, form-fitting suit accentuated with flashes of silver. His hands were covered by fancy black gloves that appeared to somehow sparkle when he moved his arms.

Even as he dutifully assessed the assembled party, he glared down at Scorpina with glittery eyes, though his mouth was fixed in a facsimile of a wide grin, showing all his beautiful white teeth beneath a dark beard. Whoever he’d once been, or whatever version of some Prime universe human, Scorpina didn’t know.  But it was evident that the pet didn’t like her touching Drakkon as the woman looked up at him, feeling the weight of his fury on her.

“You are quite the dancer,” she complimented her partner, daringly tracing a red lacquered nail along the villain’s jaw, an obviously flirtatious move designed to aggravate the human-canine. “There must be some way I can repay you for you protection and hospitality.”

Watching the impertinent tart throwing herself at his master, Red’s grin shifted into a jealous snarl, his gloved fingers hooking as if they claws were they rested on his powerful thighs. He nearly growled aloud when a firm hand settled over his thick, shaggy hair. Ranger Slayer had quietly moved down to sit beside him, and she imperceptibly shook her head.

“Down, boy,” she ordered robotically.

Lord Drakkon continued to sway and dip the errant Prime visitor as if he didn’t notice the overt way she was trying to seduce him. Whether he was truly oblivious or just fucking around wasn’t yet certain.

Now, Scorpina’s fingertips brushed the tyrant’s jaw, teasing at his lower lip as she lifted herself on tip-toe under her mouth was very close to his.

“Surely, there’s SOMETHING I can offer in return,” she breathed, letting the implication linger as she upped the ante.

Ranger Slayer could see the woman was pushing it with Red, who’s mouth now gaped open in a version of a canine lifting its hackles, promising swift bloody death. Kim’s hand had glided to the back of the pet’s neck, scruffing him, while the sharp point of her bow, obscured by the tabletop, poked his chest, dissuading him from bounding over the elaborate feast and tearing into the woman.

“Stay!” she hissed. “Behave yourself, bad dog!”

“I’m going to tear that little bitch to shreds,” he rasped vehemently, daringly pressing into the sharp blade of the bow as if he didn’t even register the growing cut, beads of blood appearing on the cold steel.

The Slayer cursed, the word sounding bizarre with no emotion behind it as she gripped Red’s neck more tightly and lifted the pointed heel of her stiletto to hover it over his groin.

“No, knock it off! Heel this minute!”

The notes of the dance slowly faded away then and the dictator briskly stepped back from Scorpina’s cloying embrace.

“Allow me to consider what would best please me,” he simpered, lifting a delicate hand to his lips. “In the meantime, I wish to present you with a special gift… A token of my appreciation for the promise of your future assistance in dealing with my quarrelsome Coinless resistors.”

He gave a piercing whistle.

An almost angelic looking Black Sentry appeared at his side within moments.

“He will escort you to your room, my lovely. You may use him for your pleasure however you see fit,” he smirked. “I would prefer to keep him in service as he’s also an excellent seamstress, so I’d appreciate whatever activity you undertake not end in his death. But…”

He shrugged.

“Things happen. I can understand that better than anyone.”

Drakkon clapped his hands twice and emitted another sharp whistle to get the other guests’ attention.

“Party’s over… Now get the fuck out of my palace!”

As if anyone needed told twice…

Scorpina had looked confused even as she took the Black Sentry’s elbow and allowed him to guide her from the ballroom. Drakkon played up wide-eyed obliviousness until the petite woman was out of sight. It took much to reign in the mischievous laughter that threatened to bubble over at the whole sordid situation.

He strutted comically back towards where Red and Ranger Slayer sat, grandly scooping up his chalice for another sip of wine, a job well done.

“Such a gullible one, isn’t she? A little disappointing from the Scorpina that battled the Rangers at my side,” he idly commented. “Still, she warrants keeping a careful eye on, my darlings. There’s information she possesses that could be most helpful to my cause…”

“I don’t like her!” Red suddenly snapped, speaking out of tune in a way he knew would earn him the strap. “She’s a little bitch!”

He’d leapt to his feet, almost toppling Kim onto her ass, and he looked like he was about to stomp his foot in a childish tantrum.

Even the usually emotionless Ranger Slayer looked taken aback by the spiteful outburst. She knew that Red knew better than to speak without express permission, to curse in Drakkon’s presence, or give his opinion without it being asked for. The mutt was asking for it at this point.

But the tyrant chuckled tenderly, reaching out to grab a handful of the front of the pet’s fancy attire. He tugged Red over the table until they were face to face.

“Aww…. Got a touch of the green-eyed monster, darling,” he teased, before slowly lapping his tongue over the other man’s lips.

“Don’t fret… I only have eyes for you, my beautiful Red.”

The anxious pet was still not soothed, his dark eye large and wet, as if he might burst into nervous, insecure tears.

Drakkon sighed, rolling his eyes at the mutt’s dramatics.

“Why don’t you show me just how much I mean to you in our chambers tonight? I might even spare you getting the strapping you so rightfully deserve for bumping your gums like you just did…If you do a good job expressing your devotion, of course.”

Strolling arm in arm with the waif-like Black Sentry, a man who’d quietly stated his name was Adam as if she gave a fuck, Scorpina puzzled on where exactly she’d went wrong this evening. The woman knew she was attractive with a toned, trim figure, perky breasts, and a tight ass. Normally, human men drooled over her appearance.

Her eyes cut over to this ‘Adam’, who’d wisely remained silent, an obviously submissive little worm. The Sentry wasn’t bad looking either, his features still maintaining a patina of innocence despite his day job. She could do a lot with that and as horny as she was, that was a good thing for them both.

But something nagged at her.

“Let me ask you a question,” she demanded, visibly startling the dark-haired man.

“Yes, milady,” he politely responded. “How may I be of service?”

She paused as she considered how to phrase her musing.

“So, Lord Drakkon…” Scorpina began. “He’s a very handsome man… Powerful…rich…”

Adam nodded slowly, his expression hesitant as if he didn’t want to talk about his lord. Or maybe he was too afraid to.

“Yes, ma’am, he is,” he carefully answered.

Was this insect daft? How did he not get what she angling to find out?

“Well…” the warrior prodded impatiently. “Surely, there’s a…I don’t know… a ‘Lady Drakkon’ in residence?”

The Black Sentry came to a sudden halt, nearly causing her to fall backwards.

“I’m sorry… What? A Lady Drakkon?”

Adam looked genuinely lost.

“I think the lady’s asking if our dapper dictator has a lover. Am I right?” another voice echoed up the corridor, sounding somewhat amused, though exhausted.

Looking over his shoulder, the Black Sentry caught sight of Skull limping his way towards them, his hair pulled in sweat-dried tufts, lips swollen, and stinking of body odor and sex.

Scorpina curled her lip in disgust.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, you breathing sex doll. Is there a lady who has his heart?”

Suddenly the men erupted in a roar of laughter, the Red Sentry Captain even slapping his thighs as he bent at the waist, grimacing through the giggles.

“A woman who has his heart…” Skull crowed. “A fucking HEART!”

Adam at least tried to reel it in in order to spare her feelings.

“Oh, there IS a Lady Drakkon, I guess… I mean, technically…”

He looked to the other man, unsure how to explain the wildness in his own words.

“That isn’t the title I’d use exactly,” Skull snorted. “Well… sometimes it works…”

Scorpina pushed the soft-spoken Sentry off her person, planting her hands on her hips.

“What are you two going on about? How is there a ‘sort of’ Lady Drakkon? Is she like a high-priced whore or mistress or something?”

This only caused the men to laugh harder.

“Something you should know around here,” the Red Sentry Captain explained between guffaws, “you won’t get anywhere with Lord Drakkon. But word to the wise… You’re better off just not discussing it or asking questions when it comes to his personal affairs.”

Scorpina rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Let me guess who the lucky gal is,” she snarked. “It’s the same in my universe! Little Miss Kimberly Hart!”

Adam tried to hide the look of distaste behind a gloved hand.

“Lord, your universe is messed up!” he remarked. “That’s sort of nasty. Ranger Slayer? And Drakkon?”

The woman couldn’t see what the big deal was.

“Why are you acting so grossed out? Tommy’s got a thing for the Pink Ranger in my world too. Big whoop!”

She was starting to get pissed now at being the butt of their laughter.

“Lady,” Skull drawled. “This isn’t the Prime universe… Pigs fly here but no way in hell has Drakkon ever diddled Ranger Slayer…”

“You talk too much,” she decreed hotly, looking at the Red Sentry with contempt. “Get lost.”

Then she stared imperviously at Adam.

“And you… take me to my chambers. I’ve got an itch to scratch, and I’m bored playing these mind games!”

To her delight, this ‘Adam’ showed much promise when it came to pleasing her. If he was feigning being aroused by her bossy, bitchy demands, he was one amazing actor. Scorpina had been willing to sacrifice being in control in the bedroom if that’s what Lord Drakkon required, though it truly wasn’t her forte to be the submissive one in the dynamic.

Perching on the edge of the vanity’s plush stool, she spread her legs beneath the flowing skirt of her ballgown and pointed to the carpet immediately before her.

“You… power down or whatever it is you guys do here…”

She smiled dangerously.

“I’ve got something for you to taste…”

Scorpina spent a fair amount of time busting Adam’s balls, wearing the soft-spoken into a writhing, sweat-drenched shell before she decided the pitiful human could take no more. She orgasmed at least five times and, while it took the edge off, she wanted…

More.

Surely, a man of Drakkon’s immense power, bolstered with the Ranger strength and endurance of two coins, could finish her off…

Her panties were still soaking wet, clinging to every curve and crevice as she crept up the winding staircase to the tyrant’s private chambers. She hoped the aroma of her arousal would inspire the clueless Ranger as to where her desires truly lay tonight. With all that he’d accomplished, Drakkon couldn’t be as ridiculously boneheaded as his Prime counterpart.

Deciding between leather and lace for the rest of her ‘gift-wrapping’ had been difficult, but she ultimately decided that the tyrant must prefer leather. Scorpina could just…tell. She’d heard the wild stories of his theatrical fuckery and leather just fit.

Of course, she thought must of those tales had to be greatly exaggerated.

Lord Drakkon was a little…’off’ but he hadn’t behaved as nutty as she’d been led to believe.

Adam and Skull were clearly full of shit. She’d been utterly confused as to how they couldn’t answer a simple question.

Was there a Lady Drakkon?

She’d gotten something of an answer when her manicured fingers wrapped around the Black Sentry’s balls and gave a ‘friendly’ but authoritative squeeze.

He’d cried and wept and screamed something about a…trinket. And something about that loony territorial mutt. Then Adam had passed out in a puddle of sweat, piss, and cum to her growing frustration.

Quietly, she moved up the stone risers, her ears straining for any noise coming from above. The notes of a song echoed faintly to her ears, the delicate, yet yearning notes of ‘Swan Lake’. Reaching the shadowy entrance to the outer chamber, Scorpina’s bare feet made the barest of whispers on the emerald green rugs as she moved closer to the sitting area.

Reclining on a jacquard chaise lounge, Lord Drakkon was completely nude, the dancing flames from the fireplace highlighting his broad chest and toned abdomen. Powerful thighs were spread languidly, a thick, prominent erection dripping a clear fluid of anticipation.

He was watching something like a feline would watch a beautiful songbird hopping along the ground, waiting to pounce, to bite…

As she watched, Scorpina realized there was someone else in the room, their graceful body poised near the fireplace, back to her. Shiny black ribbon circled their ankles, feet standing en pointe in satin ballet shoes. Sheer dancer’s stockings covered the woman’s legs, a flowing black tulle spilling down from her waist. Diamonds dripped down the open back of the leotard, glittering like stars in the night sky as she moved.

A thick head of ebony ringlets brushed the ballerina’s shoulders, like an old pin-up movie star.

Drakkon was riveted by the woman’s graceful poses as she moved to the music, teasingly coming closer and closer as she leapt and twirled, the muscles of her legs and back bunching under…scarred skin??

Scorpina frowned.

“You excite me beyond reason, Trinket,” the tyrant groaned, a hand starting to reach for his shaft then resisting the urge. “How could you believe my head could be turned by another?”

Was this ‘Trinket’ Lady Drakkon?

Why didn’t Adam and Skull just SAY that? And what did that nutty mutt Red have to do with her?

Speaking of that spooky bastard, where was he? He clung to Drakkon like a second skin whenever he was in the same room.

The ballerina glided on pointed toe to where the evil Ranger lay. He reached for her with his large hands pulling her astride his waist to grind his cock between her silky thighs. Trinket rained kisses over his stubbly cheeks leaving behind bright red lipstick.

Scorpina observed that the dancer was rather tall and muscled but given the rigors of her chosen dance she would have to be strong.

It was when Trinket arched her back, allowing her lover to rove his lips down her neck and chest, that she caught sight of the gold collar and the facial hair.

Trinket was Red…

Drakkon was fucking Red…

Red was in essence ‘Lady Drakkon’…

Well, Scorpina wasn’t one to kink shame; she could play nasty with the best of them. This ‘Trinket’ roleplay wasn’t about to throw her off her game. It only meant that she needed to not only win over Lord Drakkon, but also that crazy canine.

‘He might believe he’s a dog, but a man’s a man…’ she erroneously told herself…still not getting the big picture. ‘I can play games too.’

And when the tyrant flipped his beautiful ballerina to his back, shoving the tulle aside and tearing the silky bodysuit to mount his lover, Scorpina made her move. Both Drakkon and Red were so blissed out…and inebriated on some exotic line of coke…that they didn’t initially register her appearance.

Until she lowered her wet, swollen cunt over ‘Trinket’s’ mouth, her own pressing harshly against Lord Drakkon’s did the pair realize they weren’t alone. Red was too stunned at first to even think about swatting at the intruder or biting her or…anything. Finally, he managed to emit several muffled shrieks of outrage and garbled threats as the bitch continued to ride his fucking face!

He’d never even entertained the idea of pleasuring a woman, though the subject certainly came up in his ‘research’.

Drakkon must have been stunned as well because he also didn’t speak or move for several moments, pausing mid-thrust in a way that aggravated ‘Trinket’ greatly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally demanded, Red’s incensed squalling continuing to float up from between her legs.

“You two looked like you were having fun,” she pouted, jutting out her lower lip but still rocking her hips over the ballerina’s mouth, so close to cumming again that she physically couldn’t stop.

Red seemed to sense it as well, feeling the rush of heat and the quivering of her muscles.

“Don’t you DARE!” he gasped angrily.

But it was too late.

The only reason she didn’t immediately lose her head was because Drakkon needed the information she possessed. It took all his self-control not to make an example out of her…

Hell, she’d just defiled his darling’s luscious mouth!

“Well, my dear…this is a PRIVATE party!”

[hobeemin]

dangerous pairing ~ (pt. vii)

🌙 genre: supernatural, fantasy, drama, angst, e2l, soulmates, forbidden romance, hybrid au

🌙 pairing(s): werewolf!kim namjoon x vampire!(f) oc; vampire!min yoongi x werewolf!jung hoseok; vampire!lee jaehwan x vampire!(f) oc; werewolf!kim namjoon x werewolf!ahn hyejin

🌙 summary: they were never meant to be together somehow, their lives intertwined, setting in motion a chain of events that would forever change the course of their lives and the people connected to them.

🌙 rating: 18+

🌙 warning(s): swearing, violence, torture, drinking blood, threats, jealousy, exhibitionism, penetration, fingering, scratching, biting

🌙 word count: 3.1k

🌙 inspiration: MB & Playlist

🌙 a/n: credit and many thanks to​💜💜 and @jeonggukingdom for the banner 💜💜 and to the lovely summer @beomcoups for beta reading 💛💛

*-*

🌙 < 🌙 m.list 🌙 > 🌙

“I won’t ask you again,” he said, circling the chair under the dim lights. “Where are the hunters?”

Muffled sounds came from the person tied to the chair. Namjoon motioned to Jungkook to remove the gag from his mouth.

Matthew spit out the blood as a tooth followed. Namjoon stepped back, shaking his head. “Matthew, Matthew. If you can do this the easy way or the hard way,” He squatted down, meeting his gaze. The man’s eyes were swollen, but he could see Namjoon’s form before him. His throat dried; he could barely form the words to speak.

“I-I d-don’t know anything.”

Namjoon dropped his head with a deep sigh. “I thought you were smarter than that, Kim. I’m very disappointed.”

He snapped his fingers as Jungkook and Hoseok stepped up to untie Matthew. The man struggled, trying to break free. Namjoon walked over to a tray of instruments, carefully running her fingers along each.

“Most would think I like to leave the dirty work to my pack, but I always felt it showed leadership and initiative to do things myself.”

The serrated blade reflected across Mathew’s face as Namjoon picked it up. 

“Last chance, Kim,” he replied.

Just as it got close to his side, Matthew jerked away with a yell. “J-Jackson!”

“Speak up, leech,” Hoseok snarled.

“The hunter’s name is Jackson.”

Namjoon put the blade down and wiped his hands with a towel. He gave Jungkook and Hoseok a curt nod, and they dropped Matthew to the floor. 

His gaze landed on Hoseok. “Find them.”

Hoseok gave a hum of understanding. “How you want them?”

“Alive for now. Get him cleaned up and back to whatever hole you found him in,” he instructed.

They picked up Matthew and dragged him out of the cellar. “Oh, and Matthew,” Namjoon called. “If I find you warned them, I’ll make a house call to your family. Are we clear?”

“U-Understood,” he whispered.

---

“–And so I didn’t even try to tell my father about it.”

Hwasa’s laugh seemed to echo as she turned to Namjoon. Her smile wavered slightly as she watched his facial expression. He seemed so far away.

“Namjoon?”

No response. 

Hwasa smiled at the people around them as she stepped closer, interlocking her fingers with his. He blinked a few times, feeling the warmth. Glancing at her and the people around him, he gave them a slight grin.

“Sorry. My mind seemed to wander off. Enjoy your evening, everyone.”

Hwasa wiggled her fingers in farewell as they walked away to mingle more. They stopped by the bar, waiting to order drinks. Namjoon raised his hand, giving his order to the bartender.

“Are you alright? You’ve been distracted since we arrived,” she murmured as she grabbed the champagne glass off the counter.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, sipping the amber liquid in his glass.

“Then act like it,” she said sweetly, her smile not reaching her eyes.

“I’ll hold my end; you do the same,” he answered, his eyes flashing gold in warning.

Hwasa clinked her glass to his with a giggle. “Cheers.”

---

Eva sipped her champagne as classical music played softly in the background. She handled this gala effortlessly.

Ken stayed by her side as soon as they arrived, ensuring every photograph taken had them together. Reluctantly, she played the part. After all, this was all a rouse to get everyone to see she was a severe threat. Jimin and Yoongi watched around the room with careful eyes. 

Though they had the best security detail money could buy, Jin felt it was better to keep a close eye on Eva. Anything could happen at a moment’s notice. 

Ken introduced Eva to a group of hospital board members working to pass a motion for Ken’s company regarding a new drug on the market. She smiled demurely, leading Ken into a false sense of security.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this exquisite woman from us, Ken. When’s the wedding?” one of the doctors teased. 

His grip tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He bent down, kissing her cheek lightly. It almost made her recoil. Smiling, he winked at the doctors.

“If I have my way, she’ll have my last name before the year ends.”

Her smile strained before she gulped down the rest of her champagne. “Time for a refill. Excuse me.” Eva eyed Ken with disdain as she walked back to the bar. The bartender greeted her and placed a napkin in front of her.

“Another glass of champagne miss?”

“No, I require something a little stronger. Let’s go with the Macallan, double, on the rocks.”

She nodded once the highball was placed before her and brought it to her lips. Just as the liquid passed her lips, Eva froze. Her eyes widened, and goosebumps formed along her skin. Where did this come from? Her eyes darted around, searching for Jin, Yoongi, or Jimin.

Are you okay?

I don’t know. Something feels strange.

Would you like to leave Countess?

She sighed, shaking her head and taking another sip of her drink.

No, no, Jimin, I’ll be alright.

Jimin looked over at her with concern but stopped prying. If she stated she was alright, then she was until further notice.

She wanted to kick herself. When had she ever seemed this weak?

Get it together, girl, she scolded herself.

She sniffed, swallowed the rest of her drink, and wiped the corners of her mouth. This was her stage, and she wouldn’t be caught slipping. 

The irony.

Dark brown eyes met her own. Namjoon seemed to bore into her very being. Her grip tightened around the highball as it almost slipped. Ken was at her side immediately, a look of worry on his face. 

“Bella?”

She stared at him for a moment with a blank expression. A frown appeared on his face.

“Eva?”

She blinked once. Then, twice before letting him take the drink out of her hand.

“I’m fine.”

“We can–”

“I said I was fucking alright, Ken,” she hissed.

He straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Very well. Let’s continue greeting these donors.”

“Whatever. Fix your tie; it’s crooked,” she said through a smile as they resumed their rounds. Much to her dismay, they walked up to Namjoon and his group. Eva grabbed another flute off a tray as Ken made introductions. 

“Evanglelina Romanus, this is Ahn Hyejin. Her family are patrons of the arts. And this is her escort, er-“

“Kim Namjoon,” he answered, giving Ken a side-eye. 

“Ah, Kim Namjoon. I think I’ve heard of you. Your company deals in construction, I believe?”

“Entertainment mostly. I own Club Lux. Have you been there?”

Ken shook his head with a smirk. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Stop by some time. I’ll give you a good deal,” Namjoon replied.

The tension grew between the two men. Eva cleared her throat, stepping between them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kim and Ms. Ahn. I hope you enjoy yourselves tonight.”

Hwasa noticed the way Namjoon’s expression shifted slightly when looking at Evangelina. It was subtle but enough for the wolf to see, and maybe it was just plain old female intuition. Either way, she didn’t like it. This woman was a threat. And what did Hwasa do to threats?

Annihilate them.

Ken looked Namjoon up and down, trying to mask his distaste. Something was off about this man. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the aura permeating off of him seemed dangerous. In his mind, Ken wanted him gone and away from him and Eva.

The Countess may have tried to seem icy, but internally she was suffering. She realized her hand had a slight shake to it. Placing the flute down, she gripped Ken’s arm. He glanced at her in concern.

“Are you alright, Bella?”

She ignored the inquiry.

Something about the way Ken said that made Namjoon’s wolf stir. Why was he touching her like that? Calling her names like they were involved? Who was this man to Eva?

Whatever power seemed to roll off Namjoon had some effect on Eva. Her knees buckled as she almost fell into one of the pillars. Ken quickly caught her as Jin, Yoongi, and Jimin appeared at her side.

“Eva?”

She let out a small laugh, pushing away from Ken. It was time to put on an act.

”Goodness, I believe that champagne had more of a punch than I anticipated. I guess I got overheated, if you’ll excuse me.”

She waved them away and headed to the restroom. Namjoon watched her retreating form as Hwasa’s eyes narrowed.

Jin glanced at Ken. “Maybe I should check on her.”

Hwasa stepped up as a smile spread on her face. “Nonsense. I’ll pop in to see if she’s doing okay. It will be better for her to see another lady and all that. Be back in an instant.”

Yoongi nodded as the trio dispersed, returning to his position near the museum's second level. He sighed, drumming his fingers on the railing. His thoughts wandered to Eva, hoping she was recovering.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

A smirk appeared on Yoongi’s face. If his heart functioned, it would have beat erratically. Hoseok oozed charisma from the top of his head to his feet. His regular dark brown locks had been cut short and dyed platinum blonde. It suited him well and contrasted with his black suit. Yoongi appreciated the view before him.

“Likewise.”

Hoseok closed the distance between them, wanting to be closer, but too many eyes were around.

“Miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Yoongi murmured.

“Will you be able to slip away after this?”

“Maybe. I’ll send a message if I can.”

Hoseok smiled with a wink. “The usual meeting place?”

“Always.”

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s face paled, giving Yoongi a look before turning back to face Taehyung. The younger wolf raised a brow at Yoongi before directing his attention at Hoseok. 

“So this is where you ran off, too.”

“The view was better from here,” Hoseok lied easily. “Is everything alright down there?”

“It’s fine. Jungkook has it taken care of for now,” he answered, stepping closer. “Who’s this?” he nudged his chin towards Yoongi.

Hoseok glanced from Yoongi to Taehyung, racking his brain for an answer. Yoongi stepped between them, extending his hand. 

“Min Yoongi. I’m head of security for the event. Hoseok had some questions about the entrance and exits in an emergency. I assured him my team had it under control.”

Taehyung paused before taking his hand. Besides being a bit cool to the touch, he couldn’t get a read on Yoongi. He didn’t like it, but the explanation seemed to soothe his curiosity. 

“I’m impressed with it. Hoseok, I’ll be downstairs with Jungkook. See you in a few?”

He gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

Satisfied, Taehyung headed back down the stairs. Hoseok waited until he was well out of earshot to let the breath he’d been holding pass his lips.

“That was too close for comfort,” he said, calm.

Yoongi shook his head. “It was fine. You kept a cool head. There was nothing suspicious about it.”

Hoseok’s lips thinned as he stared at Yoongi. “Even still. Taehyung has found it hard to move up in rank. I don’t need a reason for him to doubt my position.”

“It will work out, Hobi,” Yoongi reassured.

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “I have a lot to think about. We might have to postpone a bit more. Is that okay with you?”

Disappointment passed Yoongi’s face, but he held it in as he nodded. “No choice but to at this point. You better get back down there before he suspects anything else.”

“Thanks, babe. I appreciate it,” Hoseok winked before walking away.

Yoongi stared back out at the guests. His mood was much darker than before.

---

Eva stepped out of the stall and walked up to the sink, letting the water run momentarily before washing her hands. She wiped her hands with the towels laid out and adjusted her dress. As she fixed her hair, the door swung open as Hwasa entered. Eva paid her no mind as she approached the sink, washing her hands and fussing with her hair.

The tension crawled slowly between the two until Hwasa turned to Eva with a smile.

“It seems you look much better than before,” Hwasa observed.

“Mhmm, much better,” Eva replied, pulling lipstick from her mini clutch.

“I offered to come in here to see how you were.”

“Aren’t you thoughtful,” Eva answered dryly.

Annoyance flashed on Hwasa’s face, but she smiled wide. This woman was not going to get under her skin.

“You know something?”

Eva snapped her clutch close, feeling her temper rise. “I don’t, but I feel you will tell me.”

Hwasa giggled, aggravating Eva more as she leaned against the counter. “It seems you knew Namjoon before this event.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“I’m pretty observant, and the way he stared made it seem like you two are familiar.”

Eva shrugged. “Wow, you got me there, Ms. Ahn. But if you have any insecurities about it, maybe you should talk to Namjoon about it and not some random woman.”

All pretenses dropped as Hwasa’s wolf let out a snarl. Her voice dropped low. “Listen here bitch. Namjoon is mine. I don’t think I can see through that act you’re giving. You better watch your back.”

Eva let out a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes as she closed the distance between them. “And just so you know, for future reference, when you’re kissing Namjoon, that’s me on his lips. You’re in the big leagues now, so watch your back, dear.”

Hwasa felt her lip twitch as Eva turned on her heel and exited the bathroom without another word. She glared at the mirror before growling as her fist smashed the glass.

“She’ll regret crossing me,” she whispered as the glass shattered.

Eva looked around and saw Ken leaning against the bar, talking with Jin. His eyes met hers, and she nodded, heading towards the botanical gardens. As the chilled air of spring filled her lungs, she gripped the side of the fountain. 

What was happening to her?

I have it under control!

No, you don’t.

Eva spun around to see Namjoon standing there. Her eyes narrowed her body on the defense.

“What do you want? Was Ms. Ahn too much to handle?”

Namjoon snorted, placing his hands in his pockets. “Hardly that. I came to get some air myself. I guess we had the same idea.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the fountain's edge. “I see.”

“I’m surprised your pet didn’t follow you out here,” he sneered.

Eva ran her hand through her curls, letting out a scoff. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black.” She sniffed distastefully, looking him up and down. “Lay off the cologne, you reek of canine.”

Namjoon felt his wolf paw to the surface as he lunged forward, gripping her arm and bringing Eva against his chest. 

“Still with the insults, Eva.”

She gave him an emotionless stare. “I merely speak the truth.”

“Bullshit,’ he spat. He glanced down at her hungrily. “He better not touch you again.”

She hissed as her eyes glowed. “Who do you you are to tell me who can or can’t touch me?!”

His eyes glowed back in response as he smirked. “You know Eva. You’ve always known.”

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy. I saw the look in your eyes. With him, there was no passion, no desire, no love. You’re fooling yourself if you can’t see what I can.”

His lips touched her pulse point, making her squirm in his arms. Every touch he made sent her closer and closer to the edge. She didn’t want to admit it, but Eva was slowly losing this battle with him.

And she loved every minute of it.

“A-And what is that?”

Namjoon nuzzled against her with a low growl. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

“I’ll rip your throat out,” she warned.

“I dare you,” he taunted.

It was as if time itself had stopped. No pretenses. Just a veil seemed to cover the pair as their lips collided. It felt as if a band snapped. No more pretending. They were in their own world. The kiss broke the rules of nature. Each was fighting the other for dominance. Nothing was gentle in that kiss, only the desire for each other.

Namjoon wasted no time picking her up, moving to a corner away from prying eyes. He pulled away from the kiss, making her whimper in disappointment. He grinned, staring into her eyes with utmost devotion.

“I’ve waited so long for this Eva.”

“Stop talking and fuck me,” she ordered, licking her lips at him.

The gold sparked in his eyes as he chuckled darkly. “Gladly.”

The sound of the belt unbuckling excited her more as he ripped her dress open for better access. Lifting her leg and wrapping it around his waist, she giggled. “You owe me a new gown.”

“Fuck that gown,” he laughed as he adjusted himself. Moaning, his fingers brushed her clit, groaning at how aroused she was. He pressed his fingers as she pulsed in his hand. Lifting his fingers, he tasted her essence, trembling with lust. “Delicious.”

Chest rising, she sought out his lips. “J-Just do it, Namjoon. Now!”

He whimpered as he slid between her folds, hugging him just right. Breathing hard through his nostrils, he willed himself to be in control. No way was he going to end this too soon. Who knew when the next time they’d meet?

She wanted him to devour her. Take her for all to see. As his hips snapped, her nails dug into his back, shivering in his arms. This was what was missing, as much as she denied it all these months. It was him. He was her equal.

The grunts and moans filled the garden in shadows under a waning moon. 

Hwasa ran out into the gardens in search of Namjoon. A passerby mentioned seeing him in that direction. She walked out holding onto her champagne flute, wondering why he’d be out there. She paused as she heard noises towards the center of the garden. Picking up her train, she walked in the direction.

There it was. Two bodies writhing in the throes of passion. Hips snapping to an unknown rhythm. And then silver eyes locked with hers.

Eva.

Hwasa felt her lip twitch as the woman gave her a wink as her fangs slid into view. Still staring, she pulled down Namjoon’s collar and sank her fangs into his neck. He let out a howl as he sped up his movements. The flute dropped from Hwasa’s fingers, crashing into the ground. The two lovers paid it no mind. She turned on her heel and ran back inside the museum, quickly vowing her revenge. She didn’t notice Ken standing behind a tree, watching their every move. His eyes narrowed as his fist formed, nails digging into his palms as blood dripped down.

Yes. Kim Namjoon had to die.