#Siri voice commands

[tez-world1]

Headline: Siri Just Got a Whole Lot Smarter! 🤯 Body: HomePod 18.2 is HERE and it's a game-changer! Say goodbye to robotic Siri commands and hello to natural language music control. Now you can ask Siri for "upbeat tunes" or "something relaxing" and it actually understands! Check out our latest blog post to see how this incredible update transforms your listening experience. Link: http://tezlinks.blogspot.com/2024/12/homepod-182-siri-gets-natural-language.html Image: [Image from blog post] #HomePod #Siri #AppleMusic #SmartSpeaker #TechUpdate #Music #AI #Apple

[abocode]

Me: Seriously, the first law of robotics is to do no harm to a human

Siri: texting your boss you wish to do them harm

[vijayakumar1004]

How to Automate Ultra Cleaning Your Home and Office with Narwal Robot Vacuum and Mop Comb

Imagine a smarter way to keep your home and office clean effortlessly. Experience a cutting-edge robotic machine, offering time-saving precision and accessibility. This technology integrates effortlessly into your life, ensuring pristine environments. Its versatile cleaning and design make it essential for a clutter-free. Absence of manual intervention showcases its advanced navigation and…

[techtuv]

Control Your Tesla with Voice Commands via iPhone Siri

The incorporation of Siri Shortcuts is just the beginning, as Tesla continues to push the boundaries of what is possible in the realm of automotive technology. From seamless integration with Apple Music and CarPlay, allowing you to command your audio experience and access a plethora of apps directly from your Tesla's display, to the ability to locate your parked vehicle with a simple voice command, the possibilities are endless.

[canichangemyblogname]

Enshitification is so real, y’all. Why does every new generation of phones get rid of handy accessibility features?

I had to get a new phone. Which means re-setting all my screen time limits. However, I cannot figure out how to do that on the iPhone 13 without setting up a special 4 digit passcode. I just want it to notify me that time is up and give me the “ignore limit” screen, but it won’t.

[dc418writes]

|Hiding in Plain Sight|

✨Pairing: CEO!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

🪄Summary: Curtis has had enough

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, soft!dark Curtis maybe???, cheating (do not condone in real life, however for this plot…👀), mention of past adult happy fun times (everyone please be safe!), fingering (female receiving), verbal abuse, language

🎤: this is my submission for Siri’s Birthday Bonenanza! Happy belated birthday @stargazingfangirl18 !! I hope you had an amazing bday with lots of cake, presents, love, and any and everything else you desire💐🎂!!

Prompts:

Scenario: Babe is doing this for your own good

Dialogue: “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Kink Prompt: possessive!babe, squirting

Trope Prompt: scary,dangerous babe who is only soft with you (Curtis isn’t really dangerous tho, but you’ll see)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF PICTURES USED as they were found via Pinterest*

At the sudden ‘click’ of the door closing, you’re startled; quickly turning towards the sound to find one of the reasons you felt the need for space from the festivities downstairs. Dressed in all black - from the button up spanning his firm chest to his impeccable slacks and polished designer shoes - it’s as if he walked straight out of GQ how dashing and handsome he looked.

Then again, when did he not?

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His deep voice never fails to send tingles shooting down your spine. Have you embarrassingly willing to move at his command if he gave it.

“It’s okay. I-I should probably get back anyway.”

“To get ignored by your husband some more?,” he asks just as you pass him. His words make you pause with your shoulders just mere inches apart.

“Curtis..”

“He’s so busy smiling in everybody’s face and trying to be buddy-buddy with my associates, he hasn’t even noticed his own wife is gone. Then again…maybe he doesn’t want to.”

You didn’t want to come tonight. Tired from work and not in the mood to fake laugh at middle aged men who thought they were funny, you practically begged your husband to leave you home.

“You’re so fucking selfish you know that? This is my chance to make necessary connections to very important people.”

“Then you go Wes! Me being there won’t change that.”

He only kissed his teeth, tossing one of your purses at you and not caring of the scattered contents he left. “Be ready by 6 or I’ll get you ready myself.”

It was foolish to hope things would be different this time. You should know Wes would never arrive at anything having to do with business without his self proclaimed ‘good luck charm’. His trophy wife he used to sell this illusion that he was the man that had it all, so rejecting him would only hurt you.

And that’s not to say your husband didn’t deserve success - he was brilliant in his own right. It’s why Curtis himself decided to invest in Wes’ company and was his highest investor to date. But he saw past the illusion, and quickly saw the man he really was.

Which is how your complicated pairing began.

As he steps closer you hate how your body responds: eagerly ready to cave at the closest feeling of home. The bourbon - his favorite - practically being tasted in your own mouth as the smell wafts from his pink lips so close to yours. It mixes well with the spice from his cologne only making your head begin to swim and want to suffocate yourself in his neck.

His thick finger reaches out to trace the delicate gold chain on the necklace perfectly sat just below your collarbones. The small diamonds not equally spaced apart, but set in such a way it reminded you of twinkling stars in the night sky. It’s simple, but fitting for you. You were never the type for lavish jewelry that could blind someone a mile away, and from your short time together Curtis knew that.

“Knew it’d look beautiful on you,” he whispers letting the pad of his finger carry further until he was skimming your collarbone and causing you to shudder.

“I’m still married,” you practically have to force from your soul trying to stop your body from pressing against his. Stop your brain from turning to mush so he could have his way with you. Again.

His jaw ticks. “Why, I don’t know.”

“Curtis please, okay? Besides, you’re supposed to be celebrating.” He gently nods letting the rest of the brown liquor drain down his throat - your eyes shamefully following the bob of his Adams apple and missing how it felt under your lips.

“Fine,” he breathes closing the remaining space so you have no choice but to clutch his shoulders to stop from losing your footing in your heels. Not that he’d let you fall from his muscular arm around your waist. His mouth lowering impossibly closer that depending on what either of you said, your lips would brush. “Celebrate with me.”

“I-I don’t think your date would like that.” Were you angry when you saw the onyx haired beauty on his arm? Far from it. Did you guiltily wish her butt length, model-esque hair would catch fire when she passed one of the candles on the various tables so she’d have to leave? Maybe.

“Here I was thinking I was the jealous one.” And there was that smirk that briefly showed the hidden mischief in this man carved by God himself. “Yes, she’s my plus one, but would be more interested in you than me. Not that I blame her.”

“I still can’t,” you whisper letting your nose tap against his. Slowly but surely you feel yourself becoming drunk off his presence and that will to stand strong diminishing.

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

At that you’re stuck. Now solely focused on his lips and so badly wanting - needing - to taste them again. Curtis grins realizing this himself. “My eyes are up here sweetheart.”

“Wha?” You should feel embarrassed, but as the air from his nostrils fan your face it only seems to make you needier. And when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek, there’s nothing that can stop you from leaning into his touch. Even between your legs you feel that pulse begin to grow in urgency.

“Look me in the eyes,” Curtis begins slowly, “and tell me you don’t want me. That you’re done. You’ll never hear from me again.”

You try, genuinely try to maintain eye contact but his stormy blues dilated with lust and longing only overwhelms you. Overwhelms you in that you should be good and say you don’t, leave, and act as if none of this has happened but you don’t want to. Curtis has easily become a part of you that you can’t let go and truthfully refuse to do so.

In a blink, your lips are frantically crushing against each others. His tongue smoothly, yet still eager, to reclaim your mouth after being away for so long. Your mind quickly enters that haze you only seemed to experience with him, unable to realize your body is being guided somewhere until you’re perched on the edge of a wooden desk. Your hands gripping the back of his neck while his push your pastel blue mini dress up past your hips leaving your lower half exposed to the cool air of the room.

Finally needing to breathe, his lips descend to your jaw then your neck causing you to whine his name wanting more of his mouth on yours. A quiet “shh” is the only warning you get before his hands are spreading your thighs to find a steady growing wet spot on your panties. His fingertips immediately reach to tease along your waiting slit watching as you squirm and moan.

“My needy girl. Probably been forever since he’s touched you like this huh? Made you feel good..”

The back of your head softly thuds against the wall as you lean back on your elbows. Letting yourself get lost in his touches and how his thumb circles your little button through your thoroughly soaked underwear.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Know how much I’ve missed you and those little noises you make when you take anything I give you,” he huskily states nipping your earlobe. “My fingers. My tongue. Fuck, and when you take my cock..?”

“Curtis,” you gasp nearly ready to guide his fingers inside you yourself to get that relief you now crave. As always, he knows what you need bringing your delicates swiftly down your legs to circle his middle finger around your dripping hole before plunging deep. The extended moan from your lips directly hitting his cock and making his pants feel tighter.

His ring finger soon joins as they steadily pump in and out. Not having been intimate with your own husband for a while now, you feel pathetic already being so close. Curtis can feel it too, as you clutch and squeeze.

“Should be ashamed of himself not taking care of you like you need. You deserve to be filled all day, every day. Filled to the point you can barely walk without feeling me drip down your legs. That what you want? To be filled with me?”

Your hips buck and grind on their own nearly riding his hand as your skin heats and sweat pricks your forehead. “Y-Yes! Yes Curtis please!,” you moan. His words hitting some deep seated, feral part you didn’t recognize but welcomed while palming your breast.

His mouth catches your scream when he adds a third finger. The room filling with your little “ah ah’s”, squelches, and the knock of the desk against the wall how you bucked to keep up with his fingers.

“Shit, might not ever leave the house. Just keep you by my side always wet and ready. Take you in every room and have you screaming for me.” He palms at the front of his slacks picturing your nude body bent over the counter. Or spread on the table for him and him only. “Or let you ride me and take what you want. Like that night after dinner.”

The way your toes curl and back arches he knows you’re seconds away now. Just needing that extra push to have you a twitching, trembling mess.

“Curtis I-I…please Curtis…Curtis!” Twisting his wrist just slightly to the right, he easily finds your spot as he firmly rubs his palm against you swollen nub making you gush down his hand and onto the hardwood below - a splash or two even finds the top of his shoe. It’s almost like a steady stream as it keeps flowing with every push of his fingers and Curtis can’t help but curse before finding your mouth again.

When you whimper and try to back away he knows it’s too much, slowly halting his movements before removing his hand. Automatically, you’re reaching out for him - needing some grounding force after what felt like your body floating to space - and he gladly lets you wrap your arms around his middle. Your face diving to his chest trying to hide your overwhelmed tears while he rubs your back with his clean hand.

“Did so good for me sweetheart. You feel alright?” You nod, turning your head just enough to catch him suck your release from his fingers; moaning from the taste. “Still so sweet,” he mumbles to himself and you swear you feel a small trickle of release escape your hole from that alone.

Your little bubble of ecstasy is quickly popped when the door opens reminding you of the party downstairs. Curtis shields you the best he can, but your dangling legs can easily be seen.

This makes it easy for Wes to recognize you. His face turning from amused shock at finding the always stone faced Curtis Everett with a woman to anger now realizing you were the moans and screams the men whispered about downstairs.

“The fuck are you doing up here?!,” he shouts making you scramble to get off the desk. Curtis still shields you with his back as you right your dress. Not only for your modesty, but to silently warn Wes he wouldn’t dare stand down.

“W-Wes I can explain-,”

“This was your plan the whole time huh? Use me to get to someone better..”

“No, I..I just-,”

“Just what? Accidentally ended up here with him?! Accidentally let him do whatever?” Now you were gathering a bit of a crowd, only increasing your anxiety.

“Wes please..”

“Please what?! Move on from you being a whore who opens her legs to any man she can get ahead with?!”

“Hey! Watch it,” Curtis warns stepping closer to a slightly drunk Wes.

“And after everything I did for you? Gave to you?!”

“You act like I asked for those things.”

He simply shakes his head before focusing on Curtis. “You know what, good luck with that one. Just a lazy sack that only wants to lie on her back. Can barely do that either always complaining-,”

Curtis didn’t let him finish quickly gripping Wes by the back of his neck making him kneel before you and everyone peeking through the open door. He tried to wiggle free and thrash, but Curtis just tightens his grip controlling Wes as if he was an animal handler trained to do this. Like he’d done it plenty of times before.

“You say you’re the one who gave her everything? Way I see it, you wouldn’t have had everything to give without her. Without your lovely wife, I would’ve already cancelled our partnership leaving you high and dry probably on fry duty at some fast food place. So I suggest you humble yourself pretty fucking quick.”

He seemed to get the message, remaining mostly still besides his back rising and falling from his unsteady breathing. “Matter of fact, I say you thank her.”

Wes is quiet, until Curtis jabs him in the ribs causing him to howl in pain.

“She’s waiting!”

“Th-Thank you! Thank you!,” he shouts sighing in relief when Curtis lets him go.

“Cmon,” he mumbles grabbing your hand to lead you past your husband. Past the vast crowd of people who dared not get in his way.

“W-Where are we going?,” you ask trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“Home.”

“But..but I-,”

Swiftly, he turns catching you against his chest with fingers gently gripping your chin so you’d be sure to hear him. “Home can be my place or yours and he gets put on the street, you choose. Either way from this point on, I’m not letting you stay away from me.” How could you argue with that? Especially now when he was using that commanding tone paired with that intense gaze making your core spasm. “Which one?”

“…Yours.”

He simply kisses your forehead leading you outside to retrieve his car from valet.

As for Wes, he was in for a rude awakening Monday morning when he’d be served an eviction notice saying his office space now belonged to Everett Co., minutes before he was served divorce papers already signed by you and your wedding ring.

-

Not gonna lie, I’m a little iffy about the ending but still I hope everyone enjoys! Also check out the other stories from this challenge as well💕!

[cassetteinability]

11 / use / 422 words not me digging through my wips and slapping the word use in there (tw incest + bestiality)

@thestarcestconstellation

“Shift,” Regulus commanded, pulling on Sirius’ arm. It was probably three in the morning, and his brother was fast asleep, but Regulus didn’t care.

Regulus wanted to feel him inside of him, wanted to have Padfoot fucking him and didn’t want to wait until the sun was up.

Sirius mumbled something unintelligible, but let himself be pulled over the top of Regulus all the same, his lips finding their way to Regulus’ neck the second he was awake enough.

“No, Siri,” Regulus argued. “Shift.”

“You’re so hard, baby,” Sirius cooed, voice still rough with sleep. He skated his hands over Regulus’ body, sliding one of them between their bodies until his fingers were wrapped around Regulus’ cock. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

Regulus shook his head. “I want you to be a good boy and shift. I want you fuck me and use me and come inside of me.”

Sirius whimpered, his body instantly shifting and transforming into his animagus form. He was suddenly all fur and paws and teeth, nudging against Regulus demanding that he flip over.

Obliging, Regulus climbed onto all fours, ass in the air in anticipation, Padfoot’s tongue one of his favorite things in the world.

Not that he would ever tell his brother that.

Padfoot pressed his snout between the seam of Regulus’ ass, tongue swiping over his puckered hole until he was loose and trembling and too close to losing control.

“Fuck me, Siri,” he commanded again, tired of waiting. He wanted to feel Padfoot knot inside of him, wanted to feel the swell of it against his prostate until he was coming into the sheets beneath him.

It took all of two thrusts of Padfoot’s hips before he was fully seated inside of Regulus. He was feral and hungry, moving inside of him at an animalistic pace, and yet he was somehow still holding back.

Waiting for Regulus to tell him he was allowed to come.

Regulus was close to the edge, hanging over the precipice by a fraying thread, and he needed Padfoot to come with him.

“Come for me, Siri,” Regulus moaned. “Fill me up.”

Like a switch flipped, Padfoot was coming, knot swelling inside of Regulus until Regulus was letting go and coming too.

“Oh, fuck,” Regulus cried, slumping down into the wet sheets, Padfoot still locked inside of him. “You’re such a good boy,” Regulus mumbled, sleep pulling him back under, even with the weight of Padfoot over the top of him. They could wait for morning to pull apart. “Such a good pup.”

[whorediaries-09]

baby, something with sirius and reader going to a pureblood ball, and her defending sirius against walburga and sirius having heart eyes for her?? reader is pureblood btw, and slytherin, so she's basically perfect but risking her reputation for siri baby

your wish my command 💃

dusk till dawn

pairing- sirius black x lestrange!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, dialogue heavy. (let me know if should add more) a/n- kinda an enemies to lovers?

ps- i hate the banner 💀

the slut club

let's make love tonight make it up, fall in love

the breakfast table seems too loud to be tolerated today. you rest your cheek on your palm, closing your eyes. you pull the wand out of your hair, letting it fall down. drawing incoherent circles on the wood of the table you yawn, too sleepy to let your mouth move and eat your breakfast.

your eyes don't open until the table goes too silent, excluding a few gasps here and there. the chaos murmurs down to a silent rumble. it's not your hand you feel on your head, it's cold and rough.

'you would've fallen asleep lestrange,'

your eyes widen. it's the voice of the casanova of hogwarts, who reeked of an arrogance you hated with all the hate you could muster.

'does it matter?' you snap back, your voice a carrying a heavy spell of drowsiness you didn't recognize. he raised an eyebrow, retracing his hand from your head, pushing a glass of pumpkin juice towards you.

'yep, i wouldn't want a bruise on my date's face tonight,'

the words spill so casually from his lips, it takes you a few minutes to understand what he said. when realization dawns upon you, you almost spit your drink on his face. instead you swallow on it in an unethical way, coughing up.

'w-what?' you splutter.

'bellatrix's wedding. be there.'

'well obviously i'm gonna be there, she's getting married to my fucking brother.'

'yeah so you'd want a date wouldn't you?'

'why don't you take potter? all the pureblood families are invited.'

'i'd love to, but his family isn't going.'

'but why me?'

'i dunno, cause i know you?' he says, sheepish grin on his face. you raise your eyebrow, looking at him questioningly. it's as if you're trying to progress his request. well not exactly a request, rather a command. nevertheless, you consider it for a moment. while sirius' rebellious attitude and image would surely taint your 'perfect' image, it didn't matter because you too needed a date and so did he. and even though you did 'hate' him, you saw your own opportunity, you wanted to grab it.

'so...what's in for me?'

'come on lestrange, you're getting a date out with me, isn't that enough?'

'nope. i would've considered it if you weren't so tacky black,' you return. he huffs throwing up his hands in the air.

'fine, i'll get you your favorite chocolates from honeydukes,'

'you can't buy me with chocolates. you'll do anything i say if i go out with you. deal?'

he glares at you.

'deal.'

***** the grand ballroom of the black manor glittered with the opulence befitting the pureblood elite. the wedding was a spectacle of extravagance, a showcase of the finest robes, dazzling jewels, and a careful dance of political alliances. sirius reluctantly found himself in attendance, accompanied by you that caused whispers through the gathered crowd.

your family was known for it's pureblood lineage, material possessions and wit. the confidence you felt in the satin robes was fake, but your aristocratic upbringing had taught you to never put your head down, even if you didn't feel comfortable enough.

maybe there was a fire within you or a coldness in your gaze that intrigued him tonight. while you were meant to be pawn, he couldn't help but glance at you. you looked different. you felt different. he wondered if you put up a mask at school or there. the latter seemed more appropriate to the image he had created of you in his head.

but still, you felt different. a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere where he felt suffocated.

'remember, no touching,' you breathed smiling as you so shook hands with lucius malfoy. while the gaze from his empty eyes sent chills down your spine, you still smiled.

your eyes locked with your brother. he was decked up in a black suit, your family emblem stitched on it with silver threads. brushing his hair away from his face, he mustered a comical grin, putting up a thumbs up in the air. your mother stood beside him, dusting off invisible dust from the velvet. it was a wonder how he could tolerate her nonsense, considering how many times you had wanted to knock her teeth of. nevertheless you approached her. with sirius behind you.

'good evening mother,' you bowed.

'i see you've brought a traitor as your date. i'm not very proud,'

you smiled. you could talk back, she couldn't use the cruciatus curse.

'you never were mother.'

'glad you caught up.'

'i see someone has chosen my filthy traitor of a son as their date,' walburga's oily voice boomed. sirius backed his shoulders, unconsciously gripping on your arm. while his sudden touch felt ghostly, you controlled your urge to back up.

'lady black, i assure you just because you don't choose your son doesn't mean no one else will. he really is a perfect companion.'

the tension hung so thick, you could cut it with a knife. her eyes gazed over you as if you were rust on iron. you felt his grip tighten on your arm.

'now if you'll excuse us,' you said, turning to your brother, 'congratulations on your wedding brother, but it seems like no one here likes our presence. excuse us.'

****

'you really shouldn't have done that you know. defend me against my own mother.' he says, smoke leaking out of his lips as he passed a thin roll of tobacco to you. you crush it under your toe.

'eh,' you shrug, his eyes not meeting yours. yours wander among the stars, the beautiful twinkling reminding you of the veiled insults and shared laughter the both of you had throughout the night.

'i've never really had a friend you know. it was always my brother, but somewhere i think i lost him too. and maybe defending you against your mother gave me a sense of validation.'

sirius squeezes your arm.

'i feel the same way. i think about running away to the potters, but i fear i'll be the black sheep. my mother has engraved shit into my head. and even though i know it's not true, i feel like it is,'

'shit like? you're worthless? sirius you're way more than their opinion,'

his voice is heavy when he hums. silence ensues, but it's a signal. to maybe meet after dark. or maybe to show the place where the others gave him scars. either ways, you let him hold your hand. you think he needs the comfort, wreck your plans. you think you're the train that truly takes him home. at least for the night.

'i feel like i had to tear down my banners. and sometimes i think clarity's in death, but this doesn't die. and memories feel like weapons. the wounds don't close.'

you draw circles on the skin of his wrist. they are unhealed wounds. and maybe you want to heal them. just for perhaps the night. you want to stay, you want him to know that you're there. even if just for dusk till dawn.

it's a childish question but you let it spill out of your mouth anyways.

'will you be my friend?'

he doesn't answer. he rests his head on your shoulder instead. he smells similar to your father, but he doesn't feel like it. he feels like the train that could take you home.

'you collect broken things and try to fix them. if i won't be one of those unfixable things, then maybe.' he whispers. you tighten your fingers around his. it's a silent promise.

to stay.

[kittynugg]

you're not gonna believe this. that fic i wrote yesterday has context that i havent fully written yet.

1 . . . next ->

words: 1,430

ps: kindly reblog this if you like it so more people see it!

summary: A traveling fair is in town! Ford takes the kids, la dee da, they have fun. But when he's down for the count with a sprained ankle the next day, who's there to take them again? Soos, of course! Promises are kept, plans aren't broken. But what doesn't go according to plan is Soos coming home with something that might cause.. a little dilemma. Little. Hint hint.

----

Ford let out what had to be his fiftieth sigh that hour, glaring at the brace or strap or whatever he felt like calling it at that moment on his ankle.

He was bedridden. Or, well, couch-ridden, as he still hadn’t figured out the whole bedroom situation, but that wasn’t important. What was important was the injury that would surely worry everyone once they got home. A sprained ankle that he couldn’t quite walk on.

Ah, he remembered it like it was this morning (because it was). The excitement to visit that traveling fair in town with the kids, the tumble taken down the stairs, being helped to the couch by Soos of all people.. Credit where credit was due– he did offer to take them in his stead and saved him from seeing Dipper and Mabel disappointed about not being able to go. And they’d been gone for a few hours now.

So.. that’s where we are right now. There was your recap.

He sighed again. He wished he was at the fair right now, not cooped up in his living room alone and stuck watching infomercials for.. Door– Door Wax? That was what the TV was A) screaming at him and B) displaying in neon text that hurt his eyes. 

Any sane person would just grab the remote and shut off the TV, right? Wrong. The remote was on the TV stand, all the way across the room, and he’d learned the hard way that these fancy modern televisions only had voice commands sometimes. Did not respond to Siri, Cortana, Alexa, or even “please just shut the Hell up”.

Soos had him set up with everything– snacks, drinks (including beer), the strongest pain medication they had on hand which was Tylenol and useless, but not the TV remote. And he couldn’t even drink the beer because of the Tylenol because he valued his liver!

Woeful was a man with undrinkable beer! ..maybe that was dramatic. No, poetic. Oh, stars, was he going insane?

The front door opened before he could decide on that. Mabel scurried inside first, a cone of cotton candy in her hand, then ran up to him. “Grunkle Ford!” She greeted in a chirp. “Soos said you got hurt so I saved you some emotional support cotton candy!”

Without giving him a chance to process her sugar-fueled declaration she shoved the cone into his hand. “I took a few bites out of it.” ..That she did, he noticed, looking over the somewhat-uneven shape. He chose not to think about the germs and instead picked off a small chunk of it.

“Thank you, Applepie, that’s very sweet,” he murmured before popping it into his mouth. “And so is the flavored sugar!” A chuckle escaped him, but he sobered as he noticed Dipper eyeing his injured foot.

He flinched as the back of a pen carefully prodded at the bottom of his foot. “How bad is it? Can you walk?” Questioned his nephew, an eyebrow raised. “And since when did you have six toes?”

“I’m going to let you answer that,” Ford deadpanned in response.

After a moment’s pause Dipper slapped a palm to his forehead. “Right. Duh. Man..” he lamented under his breath. “But, like, are you okay?” 

Eh.. besides the lingering pain in his ankle, the thought that he was rendered unable to walk by a staircase and the fact that he was still hearing about that stupid infomercial? By no means! He was Stanford Filbrick Pines, of course he wasn’t okay. No Pines family member was okay. 

“Of course I’m okay! When have I not been okay?” He smiled confidently, then winced at Dipper’s blank expression.

After a pause, the boy muttered, “kind of a lot.”

“..Okay, fine, but in this particular moment I am.”

“I mean–”

Soos interrupted Dipper, ushering him and Mabel toward the stairs. “Dudes, let’s give him some space.” He urged to Ford’s relief. Don’t get him wrong, he adored those rays of sunshine, but now was not the time. It took a lot to resist the urge to comment when he heard Soos muttering something about him being cranky and needing a nap, eliciting a giggle from Mabel as they climbed the stairs.

And he was alone again.

Emotional support cotton candy, help this pathetic man.

Before he could spiral into his third bout of melodrama that day Soos walked back down the stairs. “Handled them for you, dawg,” he reassured as he moved to join him near the couch. “But, uh.. Listen, dude, I had something I wanted to show you, dawg, kinda wanted to see if you could see if it was the real deal.”

Could he go one sentence without saying some.. Teenager slang nickname word!? Humor him, Stanford, he’s not a bad person. And besides– he was trapped on the couch anyway. It was either this or be forced to watch those “animes” with the irrational hair and incorrect lip syncing. “What’s that?” He inquired, shifting to make himself comfortable.

“I got this at the fair from some old witchy dude,” he began as he took a vial of clear liquid from his pocket. “She said it came from the fountain of youth and maybe you and Mister Pines could use it.” Ford must have scowled at that, because Soos rose his hands in a placating gesture and chortled. “No offense, dude!”

Well, some taken! Ford had aged like a fine wine, thank you very much! Stan was more like.. Milk in that sense. Maybe he was right about Stanley but– did he just say “Fountain of Youth”? As Soos might say, “fat chance”! The fountain of youth was.. Probably deep within some inaccessible cave somewhere! (Sue him, it’d been a while since he found it.) And even if it wasn’t, a carnie wouldn’t go around selling its water for an affordable price.

It was his turn to laugh, then, and he facepalmed. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” He reached out and took the vial between two fingers to examine it. “That’s funny.” The liquid looked like tap water. Sure, any water looked like tap water because tap water was.. Water, but this was suspiciously mundane. The only interesting thing about it was the fancy glass vial.

“..Uh, actually dude.. I was thinking you could, you know..” Soos tapped his fingers together anxiously, a habit he’d no doubt picked up from Stan. How he looked up to him astounded Ford. (And.. how he himself always had.) “..take it to the lab? Run some tests with your fancy science-y doohickeys?”

Doohickeys!? His equipment was state of the art thirty years ago! He invented new equipment! And he was calling them doohickeys!?

He let out an irritated huff, then uncorked the vial. “Look, I don’t need ‘doohickeys’ to test this for you,” muttered Ford, then he brought the lip of the vial to his mouth and downed it with the confidence of a seasoned alcoholic to Soos’ horror.

“Dude, NO!!!” He called out desperately, reaching out to stop Ford, but it was too late. By the time he had the chance to take the vial from him, but a drop remained in the bottom. They watched each other for a moment, not a breath breaking the silence between them, and to both of their horror, something incredible happened..

Nothing. Literally nothing.

It was water.

“..Um.. I suppose it tasted a little sweeter than your average tap water?” Ford muttered, scratching the back of his head and awkwardly glancing away. “You, er.. That ‘witch’ scammed you.” He did air quotes with the word “witch”. 

Soos was too busy stammering incoherently in terror and pointing at the empty vial to respond.

“Soos,” muttered Ford in a bid to get his attention. Honestly, he was almost a little disappointed. He aged well but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stand to be a few years younger! Oh, well, he figured he’d help Soos before he falls into some sort of crisis. “I can assure you that nothing is going to happen. You bought it from a carnie– I- I mean did you actually expect anything to come of it? You were hoodwinked, that’s all.”

..Maybe he wasn’t the best at comforting people, he’d admit, but Soos was blowing this out of proportion! 

“Oh, dude..” he muttered, biting at his nails and casting a glance around, then he turned and sprinted out of the room. “I gotta tell Mister Pines!”

Listening to Soos’ footsteps down the hall, Ford decided that now he was alone. 

And the remote was still out of his reach.

[xxfaithlynxx]

Half of My Heart

Word Count: 13.5k

Temptations Edge

BETA-READ by the wonderful Needle_Wand_and_Thimble!

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Chapter 19:

I feel it, my Ori. For both Stayrus and Alistair—it’s real. I could feel her fear; it mirrored my own. But I could also feel the truth in her words. My soul is connected to them both, and in turn… yours is connected to their vessels. Both Sylus and Zayne are your mates, just as Stayrus and Alistair are mine.

The bathroom door loomed before me, a barrier between my unraveling world and the rest of the house. At some point, I’d moved to sit on the cold tile floor, my back pressed against the tub, knees drawn tightly to my chest. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a frantic drumroll in my ears.

The confirmation I’d dreaded: Zayne and I were mates .

The weight of it was suffocating.

What did it mean? What was expected of me? And what about Sylus?

I didn’t know Zayne. I didn’t love him. How could I now be tethered to someone else—Zayne, the alpha with eyes like golden forests and a presence that commanded attention?

A soft knock at the door jolted me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Ori? Can I come in?” Zayne’s voice—deep, silky, and smooth—sent a shiver down my spine. It was a voice that could be both commanding and tender, one that had already begun to make my knees weak and my heart race. But right now, it only heightened my anxiety.

Why is he here?

“Ori?” he called again, concern lacing his tone. Another gentle rap sounded against the wood.

I stayed silent, unable to find the words to respond. My breath came in short, ragged gasps—each one a battle against the panic threatening to consume me. I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the sound of his voice.

Why is this happening? Why me? Why him? Why can’t it just be Sylus?! Why, why, why —

My body trembled. Fear and panic surged, pressure building in my chest as tears streamed down my cheeks.

I can’t breathe. I can’t do this. Why?!

My vision blurred with tears, red edging around my sight like a warning light in sync with my frantic heartbeat.

“Ori, I’m coming in.”

A part of me registered the words through my hands. Their meaning sank into my bones like ice. Another part of me didn’t care—just wanting this moment, this madness, to end.

When my eyes finally focused, Zayne was standing in the doorway. His muscular frame filled the space, and those green-gold eyes—usually so piercing—were soft with worry. They swept the room and landed on me, huddled on the floor. My gaze caught a flash of white beneath his sleeve: a jasmine flower tattoo, its delicate petals a stark contrast to his alabaster skin.

“Ori,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

He knelt in front of me, large hands hovering midair as if afraid to touch. I flinched instinctively, my body tense, mind screaming for escape.

“Shh,” he soothed, voice gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe, sweetheart.”

The simple words carried weight. Something about them began to calm the storm within me. Slowly, too slowly, my breathing began to even out. I looked up, meeting his mottled green gaze. In that moment, I saw not just worry—but protectiveness. Longing.

"I..." My voice cracked. "I can’t... I don’t know how to..."

Siri was silent. I couldn’t feel her presence. My mind was empty, hollow.

Zayne reached out, his fingertips brushing my cheek. I shivered.

"You don’t have to explain," he murmured. “Just breathe, sweetheart. With me, okay?”

I followed him—watching as he inhaled deeply through his nose, held it, then exhaled through his mouth. I mimicked him. My eyes flickered between his and his mouth, unable to settle.

And then—before I could process it—his lips were on mine.

It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, hungry, a fierce claim that shattered the distance between us. His mouth moved against mine with raw intensity. His hands, soft yet calloused, cradled my face as if I were something precious.

I melted into him.

Fear, doubt, guilt—all burned away under the heat of his touch. My hands tangled in his black hair, pulling him closer. He tasted like mint and something else, something uniquely him, and it lit a fire in my veins.

He shifted, pressing against me. His muscular frame pinned me beneath him, his chest solid against my softer body. Every nerve sparked. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me until I was straddling him. I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh—a blatant, burning truth.

"Zayne," I gasped.

"Shh." His breath was hot against my skin. "Just feel , Ori."

And I did.

I let go.

The fear, the confusion, the weight of it all—gone. There was only him. His touch, his taste, the rhythm of our bodies. His hips moved against mine, slow, grinding. The heat of him seared through the fabric between us.

His lips trailed down my neck, shivers dancing along my spine. His hands were confident, pushing my shirt up past my collarbone, baring my breasts, my stomach, my—

Ori!

I froze.

Siri's voice pierced through the haze, snapping me back. Reality crashed down.

I scrambled off his lap, heart pounding, breath ragged. I pressed myself into the corner, dragging my shirt down over my exposed skin. My cheeks burned.

Zayne remained still, on his hands and knees, his face flushed deep pink. His gaze held mine, wide and shocked.

“Fuck…” he muttered, letting his head fall forward, fists clenched against the tile.

“ Fuck indeed, Love Nuggets.”

Zayne jerked around. Rafayel stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed. A smirk curled his lips as he glanced between Zayne’s flushed face and mine.

“Well,” Raf drawled. “What did I walk into, hmm? How scandalous.”

“We—we weren’t—” I stammered, throat tight.

“Oh, save it, little Oreo Cookie,” he winked. “It’ll be our little secret. Although, with the door open and the noises you were making... it might not be.”

Zayne glared at him.

My Ori , Siri whispered. Try to control this behavior until we get answers… Alistair agrees. He’s reprimanding his charge as we speak.

I shot her a glare in my mind, my fury igniting. Seriously? You took days to talk to Stayrus, and now you’re besties with Alistair?! Don’t be a kettle, bitch.

The anger twisted in my chest—at Raf, at Zayne, at Siri… at myself.

How could I let this happen again?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

What would Sylus think?

Our bond was open again. He probably already knew.

I stood, eyes downcast, and silently passed Zayne. He didn’t move. Raf chuckled as I slipped past him, shame burning my skin.

In the living room, Sylus was pacing.

Shit.

I returned to my spot near the fireplace, curling up in the nest of pillows I’d made. I pulled my knees to my chest and stared at the flickering orange and blue flames.

He didn’t speak.

But I felt him watching. Felt the weight of his attention settle over my soul like a thick blanket.

He knew.

For a long moment, silence reigned.

Then, a gentle brush down the bond: Kitten... I—

“Why do you call her kitten, of all things?”

Of course Raf had followed me. Drama was his lifeblood.

Sylus sighed, tone dry. “And Oreo Cookie is any better?”

A new wave of command filled the room, nearly matching Sylus’— Zayne .

“Enough, Raf.” He sighed. “Xavier, have you found anything? Anything at all?”

I tuned them out.

My Ori... I—

Don’t. Just... leave me alone, Siri. Go talk to one of your boyfriends.

I turned my face into my knees. I wasn’t really angry with her. We were both lost. Neither of us knew what to do next.

Life hadn’t been simple. Newly presented as an Omega. A rogue. Running from an abusive pack. I’d faced challenges already. And now—now there was a new pack. New rules. New bonds.

And now? Now I had two Alphas.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since I’d felt genuinely happy—relaxed for the first time in years—only to be gut-punched by Fate with another mate bond.

A girl can’t catch a fuckin’ break.

Sylus had always been my Alpha. Strong, protective, intense. Safe.

After Ephraim and Caleb, Sylus had felt like a miracle.

But fate? She’s a bitch with a twisted sense of humor.

I lifted my chin, my eyes finding the dark-haired man who had undone me so effortlessly in the bathroom.

Zayne.

My new Alpha. Radiating power and presence. The moment I’d seen him, the air had shifted. Reality tilted. A bond snapped into place.

Wasn’t one mate enough?

Why me?

Why did Fate decide to mess with a nobody Omega like me?

The room vibrated with tension. Sylus tried to mask it, but I felt his possessiveness crackling. He was the Alpha I knew.

But Zayne... Zayne made something else awaken in me. Something terrifying. Something I couldn’t ignore.

They stood in a wide circle around the coffee table, arguing. I felt them both—through the bond—warmth brushing along my mind like fingers tracing my soul.

Their voices. Their power.

And slowly, despite it all, I began to breathe again.

The pressure began to lift.

And I floated.

—

I stayed quiet in my nest of pillows, knees hugged tight, the flames of the hearth painting gold across my skin. Sylus still hadn’t said a word. Zayne was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, jaw locked. Rafayel had flopped down into the nearest chair, legs slung over the armrest, watching all three of us with foxlike amusement.

The tension in the room crackled. Not loud. Not spoken. But real.

I could feel Sylus' energy — sharp-edged, coiled like a spring. And Zayne’s — heavier, magnetic, pulling at something deep inside me I didn’t want to acknowledge.

They didn’t speak, but their postures said enough.

Sylus' eyes flicked to Zayne’s, a second too long. Zayne straightened. Their scents spiked, colliding in the air — spice and storm, fire and ice — stirring something inside me that felt dangerously close to unraveling.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Why did my body know them before I ever gave it permission?

Rafayel exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “Should we measure dicks now or wait until the moon’s in retrograde?”

Sylus shot him a look.

Zayne didn’t move.

Xavier stirred then — the first to break the rhythm. He angled forward on the couch, fingers grazing the old, carved table in the center of the room. His eyes were distant, as if something was speaking only to him.

"Xav?" Rafayel blinked. “You having a stroke or did you think of somethin’?”

Xavier didn’t answer at first.

His voice came soft, like it wasn’t meant to be heard. “There’s a possible reason…”

The room stilled.

He raised his gaze — starry irises dimmed to an eerie onyx sheen.

“There’s a possible reason an Enigma appears once per generation.”

My breath caught.

“A soul reborn through conflict. Marked by duality. Chosen by Fate not for balance… but for disruption.”

I swallowed hard.

Xavier blinked slowly, the haze lifting like morning mist. “They were never meant to belong to one mate,” he said. “They’re the hinge. The break. The bond that shatters an age-old chain.”

Silence hung like smoke in the room.

“What does that mean ?” My voice cracked on the last word.

Xavier looked at me — not unkindly, but with that same haunted softness I’d seen in Sylus when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“It means, Ori... you were never meant to choose.”

The silence didn’t crack.

It shattered.

Sylus stepped forward first. “That’s not possible,” he said, voice low, quiet enough to make my skin crawl. “Fate doesn’t divide a bond like that.”

Zayne pushed off the wall. “Maybe Fate doesn’t care about rules anymore.”

His tone wasn’t angry—but it was close. No growl, no raised voice. Just that dangerous stillness I’d come to associate with Alphas on the brink of something feral.

Sylus turned toward him, sharp and deliberate. “My bond was formed first. Mine. You stepped into something already sacred.”

My stomach twisted. Mine. Sacred. It should have warmed me—but the edge in his voice cut too close to something I hadn’t figured out how to name yet.

Zayne didn’t flinch. “I didn’t step in. It was made the moment I saw her.”

Their eyes locked, two storms colliding in a room too small to contain the pressure.

I felt it—like a magnetic hum across my skin, the bonds pulling in opposite directions. Sylus’ weight was steady, burning like the hearth beside me. Zayne’s was colder, more electric—simmering just beneath the surface, like a predator biding its time.

“You think this is about timing?” Sylus asked, voice still eerily calm. “This isn’t some game of who met her first. This is about her. ”

“And I feel her just as deeply as you do,” Zayne replied. His voice wasn’t raised, but it carried. “Don’t think for one second I’m walking away from that.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“You both sound like you’re fighting for a prize,” I said softly, barely recognizing my voice. “Like I’m something to be won.”

That did it.

They both turned toward me—two wolves snapping out of their standoff. Guilt flickered in Zayne’s eyes, while Sylus’ expression twisted in something closer to pain.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sylus said. His voice had dropped again, quieter now. “Ori, you’re not a prize. You’re—” His throat bobbed. “You’re everything .”

Zayne exhaled sharply, stepping closer, but he didn’t reach for me. “He’s right. But this... this isn’t something either of us were prepared for. You feel it too—I know you do.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course I did.

I felt everything. The bond to Sylus, deep and familiar, like the moment you realize you’ve been holding your breath your whole life and finally exhale.

And then Zayne. His pull was wildfire. Sudden. Consuming. A match lit in a room soaked in oil.

“You were never meant to choose,” Xavier’s words echoed in the space between us again, like the room itself hadn’t finished digesting them.

Rafayel whistled softly. “Well, this took a turn.”

“Raf, shut up,” Zayne and Sylus snapped in unison.

He grinned but lifted both hands in mock surrender, sliding deeper into the armchair like he’d paid for front row tickets to this shitshow.

I looked back at Sylus, then at Zayne.

And I hated that my heart stuttered in different ways for both of them.

The worst part?

I didn’t know if I wanted to stop it.

Xavier finally moved, his steps slow, deliberate, as he circled to the front of the hearth. The firelight caught on the edge of his cheekbone, making him look older than he was—wise in a way that felt ancient.

“It’s not divided,” he said simply, cutting through the tension like a blade through silk.

The room held its breath.

“The bond doesn’t split. Not with an Enigma. It folds. Wraps. Braids. One soul, two threads—intertwined, not opposed.”

He looked at me then, not as Xavier, but as someone who understood.

“It’s not about choosing. It never was.”

My chest tightened, but not with panic this time. It was recognition. The quiet hum that had lived under my skin since the dance floor. Since Zayne’s touch. Since Sylus first held me after everything fell apart.

I swallowed, my voice emerging hoarse but steady. “I’ve felt it.”

Zayne’s eyes snapped to mine. Sylus stiffened beside the fireplace.

I kept going.

“It doesn’t feel like two different things pulling me apart. It’s one. Like… like it loops around itself. When one pulls, the other tightens. When one aches, the other shields. It’s not a war. It’s—” I paused, searching for the word. “A weave.”

Xavier nodded slowly. “Exactly.”

Zayne exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders like rain slipping off stone.

Sylus didn’t move at first. He was still watching me. Like he was trying to read every line of my face, every syllable I'd spoken.

Then finally, softly, “Why didn’t we know?”

Xavier’s eyes darkened slightly. “Because there hasn’t been a multi-bond like this in generations. And the last didn’t live long enough to explain what it felt like.” He returned to his seat on the couch, hands rifling through the multitude of books he had spread around him.

Rafayel let out a low whistle. “Damn. Tragic and sexy.”

“Raf,” I muttered, a tired laugh escaping before I could help it.

He winked, unrepentant. “Just trying to lighten the vibe, cutie.”

But the gravity hadn’t really gone.

Sylus stepped closer, cautiously. “So… this thing between the three of us—it’s real? Not wrong? Not broken?”

Xavier nodded once, the deep onyx cast of his eyes softening back to blue. “It’s rare. Sacred. Not some flaw in the system, Sylus.”

He turned fully toward him, his voice calm and sure.

“You’re the reset. Enigmas don’t follow the path of a typical second gender—they rewrite it. You weren’t meant to fit into the rules. You were meant to break them. What you carry allows you to form bonds that aren’t supposed to exist—deep, mate-level connections that defy rank and tradition.”

His gaze flicked between me and Zayne.

“Technically, you’re the outlier. The one who steps into what should’ve been a conventional Alpha-Omega bond.” He paused. “But you don’t weaken it. You transform it. You make it more. ”

I felt that truth settle into the center of my chest.

Looking between Sylus and Zayne, I realized I wasn’t carrying the weight of something broken—I was standing in the middle of something rare. Something real.

“It’s not perfect,” I said softly, my voice catching just a little. “But maybe that’s the point. It’s not supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to matter. ”

And for the first time since all of this began, neither of them looked like they wanted to fight over me.

They just wanted to stand with me.

The silence that followed wasn’t strained anymore. It was thoughtful. Tender, even, in its stillness.

Xavier leaned back into the couch, as if the moment no longer belonged to him.

I sat up straighter, uncurling my legs from beneath me. The flickering fire warmed my back. I could feel both of them—Sylus and Zayne—watching me. Watching each other. The air had shifted. Not cleared completely, but calmed. Coiled tension slowly unwinding.

Then, Sylus spoke.

“Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, but sure. His eyes flicked toward Zayne, then back to me. “Both of you.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow but gave a single nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Neither of them reached for me as I stood, and somehow that meant more. They gave me space to choose, to follow. And I did.

We left the room quietly, Xavier and Rafayel not even looking back. Raf muttered something about “going to make popcorn for the fallout,” but I barely heard him.

We ended up in the master bedroom just down the hall from the bathroom. Moonlight spilled in through the gossamer curtains. Everything felt strangely softened—like the world was giving us a chance to catch up to ourselves.

Sylus turned to face us, his silhouette etched in soft shadows, tall and unwavering as ever—but his shoulders dipped, just slightly. Enough to see it: the weight he’d been carrying alone.

“I always thought being an Enigma meant something… distant. Mythical,” he said, his voice lower than usual—gravelly, like it had worn thin from silence. “Something people feared, or studied, or kept at arm’s length.”

His eyes flicked to mine.

“I knew what they were. Your father made sure of that. He told me Enigmas only appear when something in the world is about to break. That they don’t get ordinary lives... or ordinary bonds. But even then, he had your mother. One mate. One love. His was whole. Singular.”

Sylus drew in a breath, slow and steady, but I could hear the tremble in it.

“When I found you, Ori, I thought maybe I was the exception. That fate had bent the rules, just this once. I felt the bond snap into place and I thought— finally . This is it. You’re it.”

He looked to Zayne now. Not with challenge, but with quiet honesty.

“And now I feel something just as real. Just as unshakable. Between the two of you. And I keep asking myself… how is that possible? Why would someone like me—who’s supposed to be singular—have this?”

His voice cracked on the last word, but he didn’t look away.

“I’m meant to be rare. Unmatched. But this... this doesn’t feel divided. It feels like something bigger. And that terrifies me.”

My throat tightened. Every word dug deeper, revealing how long he’d kept that fear hidden beneath his steady exterior.

“You’re not just rare,” I said softly, stepping closer. “You’re ours .”

Zayne didn’t speak, but I felt the weight of his agreement radiate like heat—steady, grounding.

Not possessive.

Protective.

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed—but not defensively. More like he was holding something in.

“It’s rare,” he said finally. “But rare doesn’t mean broken.”

Sylus turned to him then. The flicker of tension that had always sparked between them appeared—and just as quickly, dissolved.

“I don’t want to fight you anymore,” Sylus said. “Not over her. Not over this.”

“You won’t,” Zayne replied without hesitation. “But I’m not walking away, either.”

They held each other’s gaze. And something shifted. Not sharp. Not territorial.

Understanding.

I reached for Sylus first, brushing my fingers against his. He didn’t hesitate. His hand closed around mine like it was instinct.

Zayne stayed still, watching—but when I reached toward him too, he didn’t pull back. His hand met mine, warm and certain.

And just like that—we were all connected.

Not dramatically. Not with force.

Just there.

My heart stuttered as I felt it again— that hum . The bond. Not split. Not tangled.

One.

A single current, braided through the three of us. Quiet, constant, whole.

Sylus spoke again, voice softer now, reverent.

“I don’t know what this is supposed to look like... but if we’re going to try—if this is what Fate’s given us—then I want it to be honest. No walls.”

“No claims,” Zayne added, his voice low. “Unless they’re mutual.”

“No fear,” I whispered, emotion tightening around every word. “At least... not the kind that makes us run.”

We stood like that, for a long moment—breathing, feeling, anchoring ourselves in the weight of what had just shifted.

Then Sylus pulled me gently to him, his arms wrapping around me like he was afraid I might vanish if he didn’t. A heartbeat later, Zayne stepped in too—his hand resting at the base of my neck, grounding me, his forehead gently brushing mine.

And there, in the stillness between them, I felt it.

Not claimed.

Chosen.

And for the first time since the club, I didn’t feel like I was being torn apart.

I felt whole.

The silence between the three of us stretched—warm now, not tense. We stood there, still connected, still breathing in rhythm.

Then Sylus shifted.

His hand slowly released mine, though his fingers lingered as he looked over at Zayne. “Would you mind if I spoke with her? Just for a bit.”

Zayne didn’t answer right away. His golden-green eyes flicked between us, the bond between us still humming low. I felt the hesitation in him—not possessiveness, but reluctance to let go. To break the stillness that had finally begun to feel safe.

But then he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Just… don’t take too long.”

He looked at me then, and his hand came up, fingertips grazing along my jaw—barely there, a whisper of touch.

“Get some air if you need it,” he murmured. “I’ll be close.”

My breath caught at the gentleness in his voice, the way his thumb brushed just under my lip before he stepped back.

Then he left the room, quiet as a shadow, the door clicking softly behind him.

Sylus didn’t speak right away.

He turned slowly, his body backlit by the pale moonlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The gossamer curtains danced on a faint breeze, whispering like they knew secrets we didn’t yet understand.

The room was beautiful. Large. Still. The bed sat like an invitation against the far wall, a mountain of robin’s egg blue pillows and soft blankets piled high. The space felt too big for just the two of us, yet strangely intimate at the same time.

Sylus stepped away from the door, walking toward the windows, his movements slow and thoughtful. The moonlight caught the sharp lines of his face, softening them. Making him look… younger. Unarmored.

“You always seemed so certain,” he said quietly, still facing the window. “Even when everything around us was on fire. You didn’t flinch. You just… kept holding on. To the bond. To me.”

He turned then—not hesitantly, but deliberately—and when his eyes met mine, I saw it.

Not weakness. Sylus didn’t know how to be weak. But there was a crack in the armor. The kind only I would notice. The kind you only show someone who’s seen you break and helped piece you back together.

“I wasn’t the one holding everything together,” I said, stepping toward him. “You were.”

He huffed, just under his breath, the kind of sound that was part disbelief, part self-protection. But I didn’t let him turn away.

“You were the one who didn’t break. When they locked you in chains. When they threw me into your cell like bait. When Caleb touched me, when Ephraim—” I swallowed, the memory sharp as glass. “Through all of it. You never looked away. You never let me fall.”

His jaw tightened. I saw the flicker of memory in his eyes.

“I had to be strong,” he said, voice low and taut. “There wasn’t another option. If I let myself feel too much, I would’ve torn that whole place apart. And maybe I should have.”

“I know,” I whispered. “And you did feel. I saw it, even when you tried to hide it. You just… carried it for both of us.”

He didn’t argue.

“I thought the bond would make it easier,” he murmured after a beat. “That once it snapped into place, it would take some of the weight off. But it didn’t. It just made everything sharper. Made me want to protect you harder. Made me terrified I’d lose you before I ever really had you.”

His gaze drifted away, not from guilt—but from that bone-deep need he never let show. The need to protect. To preserve.

“And now,” he continued, “there’s this whole other part of it—Zayne. The bond’s holding, yeah, but it feels… wider. Like the world just stretched under my feet. Like there’s more to lose now.”

I reached for him—slow, certain—taking his hand between both of mine, grounding him the way he had done for me so many times before.

“You’re allowed to feel like this,” I said, steady. “You’ve carried everything without ever asking for help. But I’m not the girl they threw in your cell anymore, Sylus. I’m not broken. You helped rebuild me. Now let me carry this with you.”

He went quiet. Looked down at our hands—my fingers wrapped tightly around his—and for a long moment, he just breathed.

Then he nodded.

Just once.

But it felt like the world shifted around that single movement.

“You still feel like the center,” he said softly. “Even now. Even with everything changing. It all comes back to you.”

“And it always will,” I whispered.

Because no matter what fate tangled into our path, Sylus had always been my anchor. My beginning. My steady flame in the dark.

I stepped closer.

His voice was a murmur now. “When you showed up in that jail... suddenly everything stopped spinning. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel lost. I didn’t feel wrong. I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. All I knew was… you felt like gravity.”

My chest tightened.

He reached up, fingers brushing along the curve of my cheek, down to my jaw, his touch as familiar as his scent. “I didn’t think I had the right to want this. Not after what I’ve done. Not with what’s happening now.”

“You’ve always had the right,” I whispered, bringing his hand to my lips. “You were the first thing that felt right.”

His eyes fell to our joined hands, his thumb moving across my knuckles in slow, reverent strokes. “You make me feel like I belong. Not to a role. Not to fate. Just… to you. ”

I rested my other hand against his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. “You’re not a mistake, Sylus. You’re the part the universe saved for the moment I needed it most.”

His breath caught.

And then, without another word, he leaned in—forehead to mine, breath warm between us, his hands rising to cradle my face as though I was something sacred. Like I was his.

“I just needed to know,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “That I haven’t already lost you.”

“You haven’t,” I said, curling my fingers in the front of his shirt, holding him there. “You’re right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment hung between us—thick with memory, fire, and the quiet ache of survival.

Then he kissed me.

Not hurried. Not desperate.

But deep.

Certain.

Like he’d waited for quiet, for peace, for this exact moment to claim what had always been his in soul, if not yet in ceremony.

His lips moved against mine slowly, but there was no hesitation in them. Just heat and history. The steady rhythm of mouths already familiar with each other’s grief and hunger. My hands slid up into his hair, anchoring him closer as his arms wrapped tight around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

He deepened the kiss—not possessive, but overwhelming in how much of him he gave to it.

And I took all of it.

Because we weren’t starting something new.

We were finally returning to something we’d both built—one broken piece at a time.

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

…ZAYNE…

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

I closed the door quietly behind me, resisting the urge to linger.

The hallway was still bathed in moonlight, but it felt colder now. The space I’d just left behind—warm, tangled in shared breath and memory—was no longer mine for the moment. I stepped into the open space of the living area, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Rafayel was stretched out on the couch like he owned the place, tossing a peanut into the air and catching it with his mouth. Xavier sat nearby in a chair, spine straight, hands folded, eyes tracking me like he’d been waiting.

“Did she moan your name when you left?” Raf asked without even looking up. “Or did Sylus hit you with that ‘deep, brooding eye contact’ thing before you closed the door?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Raf clicked his tongue. “Gods, the tension. I can smell it from here.”

Xavier gave him a glance. Just a glance. The kind that shut people up with a single breath. Raf didn’t shut up—he just rolled his eyes and popped another peanut.

I ran a hand through my hair and moved to stand near the window, letting the cool air seep into my chest.

Sylus had found her first. Bonded with her first. That mattered. I knew it did. But it didn’t change what I felt—that sharp, deep pull in my chest that wouldn’t let go. That quiet hum under my skin every time Ori walked into a room. The instinct that said, mine.

Because she was an Omega.

And I was an Alpha.

It should’ve been simple. A straight line. Clean. Natural.

But Sylus wasn’t just a complication—he was the damn gravitational center of it all.

He wasn’t an Alpha. He wasn’t anything I was taught to expect. And yet… the bond still responded to him. Ori did. I did, in ways I didn’t want to put a name to.

“She was supposed to be mine,” I said, barely above a whisper. “That’s how it works. Omega. Alpha. That’s the way the gods built us.”

Xavier’s eyes moved toward me, calm and unreadable. “And yet, she isn’t just yours.”

That hit harder than I wanted it to.

“She’s not anyone’s,” he added, voice quiet. “She’s hers. ”

I scoffed, low and bitter. “I know that. I’m not trying to control her.”

“You’re trying to understand why the pieces don’t fit the way you expected,” Xavier said. “Why the rules you lived by don’t apply here.”

I didn’t answer. Because he wasn’t wrong.

“Bonding with an Omega should’ve felt instinctual,” I muttered, staring out at the treetops beyond the glass. “It did. It does. But there’s something about her… it’s not just instinct. It’s more. And somehow, Sylus is part of it. Like he’s wrapped in it. Woven into it.”

“Like a surprise twosome from the moon gods,” Raf added, grinning. “Deliciously scandalous.”

“Raf,” Xavier said sharply, and Rafayel gave a mock bow before going back to lounging.

I let my head fall back against the window frame, exhaling hard.

“I want to hate it. Hate him. But I can’t. Because she loves him. And I… I don’t know how to be anything other than furious and grateful at the same time. He kept her alive. Kept her whole. And now I’m just… here.”

“You’re not just here,” Xavier said. “You’re part of it now. She chose you, too.”

That landed deep.

“She didn’t have to open that bond,” he continued. “But she did. And it held.”

“So now what?” I asked. “We just… share?”

“No,” Xavier said simply. “You honor the bond for what it is. Something rare. Something real.”

I rubbed at the tension in my jaw.

“And if I can’t accept that?”

Raf finally sat up, brushing crumbs from his lap. “Then you’ll lose. Not her. You. You’ll lose the best damn thing that ever collided with you, just because you were too proud to make room for something that doesn’t fit inside your neat little Alpha box.”

The words hit like a slap. Mostly because he wasn’t wrong.

I didn’t respond.

Just stood there.

Feeling the echo of her through the bond—soft, quiet, and undeniably real.

I stayed by the window, arms braced against the cool glass, trying to ignore the way my chest felt too full—tight and sharp all at once.

The bond wasn’t just humming anymore.

It was burning.

A slow, low heat that started at the base of my spine and crept along my nerves, curling inward with every breath. I could feel her. Not in thoughts, not in words—but in sensation. A pull. A rhythm.

And Sylus was with her.

The bond didn’t lie. It didn’t shield. It wasn’t polite.

It showed me everything.

The heat of her skin under his hands. The thrum of her pulse. The way her breath hitched against his lips. The weight of his touch on her hips, the tension that made her tremble in that beautiful, familiar way that wasn’t mine—but was fast becoming something I craved.

I clenched my jaw, pressing my palms flat against the glass, trying to breathe through it.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly.

It was need.

Need to understand this. To understand her.

Because no matter how much I wanted to claim her, Ori wasn’t mine in some clean, primal way. She was sharp-edged and guarded, wild like wind through dry grass. And when I’d seen her on that dance floor, lit by firelight and moving like she owned the room in that delicious red dress, something in me had snapped.

That first moment—before I knew her name, before I even understood what she was to me—she turned, and her eyes locked on mine.

And I felt it.

The crack.

The surge.

The bond reaching for her like I already knew her heartbeat better than my own.

I didn’t even realize what had happened until I saw her standing there in front of me, watching her mouth part like she’d felt it too. That tug. That click. The way the world slowed down and filtered into shades of her.

Even now, I didn’t know her the way Sylus did. Not yet.

But I wanted to.

Gods, I wanted to.

I wanted to learn the stories behind the shadows in her eyes. Wanted to know how many times she’d rebuilt herself before she ever looked my way. I wanted to know what made her laugh like she wasn’t afraid, and what her voice sounded like first thing in the morning, before the weight of the world came back.

The bond wanted to take.

But I didn’t want to just have her.

I wanted to earn her.

I didn’t even notice Raf had gone silent until he shifted again on the couch, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re burning up like a candle at both ends,” he said softly. Not mocking. Not teasing. Just observant. “That bond’s not subtle, huh?”

I shook my head.

“I feel it,” I murmured. “All of it. And I don’t know if I’m supposed to.”

“You are,” Xavier said from behind me. His voice was quiet. Absolute. “You’re not outside it, Zayne. You’re inside. That’s why it hurts.”

I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, closing my eyes.

Inside.

Not just seeing it.

Feeling it.

I could tell the exact moment Sylus kissed her. Not from noise. Not from assumption.

From her.

The flutter. The surrender. The soft, aching relief of being touched by someone who knew every fracture of her soul and still held her like she was whole.

And gods, I wanted to be that for her, too.

But first, I had to figure out how to stop trying to compete with Sylus… and start learning how to meet her where she was.

Even if that meant sharing space with the only other man who knew how to hold her without breaking her.

I stayed quiet, watching moonlight spill across the floor, feeling her in every breath I took.

The bond was still there—buzzing under my skin like static before a storm—but I was learning how to breathe through it. Even if it hurt.

And then, like clockwork, Rafayel broke the silence.

“So,” he drawled, kicking his legs over the armrest of the couch and stretching with a theatrical sigh, “should I start planning the ‘Welcome Back, Broody Bastard’ party, or are we keeping Sylus’ dramatic return on the down low?”

I turned my head, brow raised. “You want to throw a party?”

Raf’s eyes gleamed. “Correction: I want to throw a spectacle. We’ve got a full moon coming up. The club’s been way too quiet lately. Perfect time to rile the pack up, drop the ‘hey, the ghost of our emotionally unavailable former pack Leader is back’ bombshell, and maybe finally get Maren off my ass about event planning.”

“You’re serious,” I said flatly.

He grinned, all teeth. “I’m always serious about four things: good lighting, clean tattoo guns, open bars, and stirring the pot.”

Xavier gave him a slow, sidelong glance. “We should probably prioritize telling the Elders before announcing it to the pack at a nightclub.”

Raf waved a dismissive hand. “Details. Bureaucratic red tape. I’ll send out the council-friendly version before the strobes start.”

I couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped out of me, tension bleeding from my shoulders like a cracked dam.

Gods, I needed that.

Raf noticed. Of course he did.

He winked. “See? I knew you were two inches away from brooding a hole through the floor. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome again,” he said, tossing another peanut into the air and missing it entirely. “And I’ll have you know, nothing screams ‘fate-warping soul bond’ like glowsticks and a three-song playlist dedicated to unresolved sexual tension.”

I shot him a look.

“Don’t worry,” Raf added, smirking. “I’ll keep the playlist tasteful.”

Xavier sighed.

I smiled.

And for the first time since leaving that room, I felt like maybe—just maybe —I could breathe without her right next to me.

At least for now.

The ache didn’t go away.

If anything, it deepened.

I didn’t see them, but I didn’t need to. The bond gave me flashes—sensory echoes bleeding through the edges of my awareness. Her breath catching. The way his hands knew her. The sound she made when she let go.

It didn’t matter that I wasn’t in the room.

My body knew what they were doing.

My bond knew.

I clenched my jaw and pressed the heel of my hand to my sternum, like I could press the feeling back down. It didn’t work. The pressure just pulsed harder.

Xavier spoke quietly, as if sensing the threadbare edge of my control. “The longer you resist the bond’s feedback, the more it hurts.”

“I’m aware,” I ground out.

“Then stop resisting. Let it flow through, not against you.”

“That’s easier said than done when I can feel her shaking under him.”

Raf made a high-pitched noise that might’ve been a dramatic gasp—or a snort. Probably both.

“Okay,” he said, standing up and clapping his hands once. “Time to pivot before our Alpha has an aneurysm from sexual frustration and suppressed emotion. Xavier, I believe it’s your turn to play therapist. I’ll be the distraction.”

“You’re always the distraction,” Xavier muttered.

Raf winked. “And I’m great at it.”

He moved across the room and dropped into a crouch next to the low table, suddenly all energy and mischief. “So. Let’s talk about the real crisis here.”

I blinked. “The what?”

“The reveal.” He gestured dramatically, like there was a stage only he could see. “We’ve got a rogue Enigma reappearing after a decade, a deeply unexpected triad mate bond, and the pack Alpha caught in a romantic entanglement hotter than a sauna in July. This requires finesse. Drama. A theme.”

Xavier stared at him. “You want to thematically announce Sylus’ return to the pack?”

“ Obviously. ” Raf gave him a pitying look. “Do you know nothing of branding?”

I finally lifted my head. “You’re not seriously—”

“Oh, but I am,” Raf interrupted, eyes gleaming. “Think about it. Moonlight. Bonfire. Some kind of open-air amphitheater. A spotlight, maybe a fog machine. Then boom—Sylus appears. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to raise questions, tight pants for thematic consistency, maybe even some war paint.”

Xavier rubbed his temples.

I couldn’t stop the sound that escaped me. Somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You want to Magic Mike the return of a man who’s been brooding in shadows for a decade.”

“ Exactly! ” Raf snapped his fingers. “The mystery! The angst! The simmering masculine energy! He steps out of the fog like a god returning from exile. Everyone gasps. Maybe someone faints. He gives a small, tortured smile. And boom. Pack morale restored.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered.

“No you’re not,” Raf said cheerfully. “Because deep down, you know this is exactly the kind of chaotic energy the pack needs after years of stuffy rituals and politically sanitized speeches.”

He wasn’t wrong.

And the fact that he wasn’t wrong only made it worse.

Xavier, to his credit, tried to redirect us. “We do need a formal event. The council will want answers. The pack needs transparency, or they’ll start building their own narratives.”

“They’ll want to know why the Enigma bonded to the Alpha’s Omega,” I said quietly, fingers flexing against my knee. “And why the Alpha didn’t push back.”

“You could,” Xavier said. “But that would mean denying a bond that chose you. One you accepted.”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was right.

And I was still working on what that meant.

“I’ll come up with the official outline,” Xavier continued. “Rafayel will... design a distraction.”

“With leather,” Raf added, unbothered. “Possibly a plethora of chains and belts.”

I let my head fall back against the wall and closed my eyes.

Her pleasure was still echoing down the bond like an aftershock. Slow, deep, radiant. And through it, I could feel Sylus—steady and sure, grounding her like he always had.

I wasn’t part of that moment.

But maybe I didn’t have to be.

Maybe my moment hadn’t come yet.

I remained by the window, the cool glass against my forehead doing little to quell the heat simmering beneath my skin. The bond pulsed with a rhythm that wasn't mine, echoing with sensations I wasn't experiencing firsthand but felt as if I were. Each wave of pleasure, each whispered word between them, resonated within me, a bittersweet symphony of connection and distance.

"You're going to combust if you keep that up," Rafayel's voice cut through the haze, his tone laced with amusement.

I turned to see him sprawled on the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Xavier sat nearby, ever the picture of composed seriousness.

"Maybe we should focus on the upcoming event," Xavier suggested, his gaze steady. "The pack needs to be informed about Sylus's return and the nature of your bond."

Rafayel's eyes lit up. "Oh, I've got just the idea. Picture this: a grand reveal at the club. Sylus makes his entrance in his outfit—chains, leather, the whole brooding aesthetic. It's dramatic, it's symbolic, it's perfect."

I raised an eyebrow. "You want to turn this into a spectacle?"

"Absolutely," Rafayel grinned. "We'll have Xavier in his own ensemble—dark, mysterious, with a silver mask. I'll don my own—flashy, a bit unhinged, but undeniably captivating. And you, Zayne, will be in your own panty-dropping look—sharp, commanding, with that crimson accent. We'll embody the chaos and unity of our pack bond."

Xavier nodded thoughtfully. "It could serve as both a celebration and a statement. Show the pack that this bond, unconventional as it may be, is strong and unbreakable."

I considered their words, the absurdity of the plan juxtaposed with its potential effectiveness. The pack needed to see our unity, our strength. Perhaps a dramatic reveal was exactly what was needed.

"Alright," I conceded. "Let's do it."

Rafayel clapped his hands, excitement radiating from him. "This is going to be legendary."

I was just starting to find my balance again—just starting to breathe around the ache in my chest—when it hit me.

Not the same warmth from earlier. Not the slow hum of intimacy echoing through the bond like background music.

This was different.

This was a pull.

A gasp—hers. A whispered name— mine . Not said, exactly. Thought. Felt.

It slammed into me like a pulse from the inside out. Hot and aching and so deeply hers that my legs nearly buckled.

I gripped the back of the chair beside me, knuckles whitening.

“ Fuck ,” I muttered under my breath, biting back the low sound that threatened to escape my throat.

She wasn’t calling me.

Not intentionally.

But her bond had reached out—subconsciously, instinctively—and now every inch of my skin was lit with the phantom of her touch. The way her fingers would’ve fisted in my shirt, the sound of her voice going ragged under my mouth, the heat between us that hadn’t even been ignited yet.

Gods. I wanted her.

Raf let out a low whistle, sharp and knowing.

“Well, someone’s getting a special transmission,” he said, entirely too amused. “Tense jaw, flushed ears, clenched fists… and oh—yep, there it is. The full bond boner. Textbook.”

“Raf,” Xavier said flatly, not even lifting his gaze from the page of the book he’d started flipping through.

“What? I’m just saying what we’re both thinking. Our Alpha’s got a tent pitched so hard it’s casting a shadow.” Raf grinned over at me. “You okay there, Commander? Need a minute? Or maybe a cold shower? Or perhaps a shovel to dig yourself out of that very inconvenient craving?”

I turned my head just enough to glare at him.

“Don’t,” I warned.

He raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t blame me. Blame the Omega in the next room who just reached out down the bond mid-orgasm. You should be flattered. ”

I closed my eyes, breathing through the molten ache in my gut. Her voice—her need —was still humming through the bond like a siren call, wrapping around me in silk and fire.

“She didn’t mean to,” I said quietly.

Raf nodded. “Exactly. Which means it’s only going to get worse from here.”

He paused, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“And by worse, I mean... better, depending on your perspective.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat.”

Xavier finally looked up, calm as ever. “You’re not going to get relief sitting out here denying the bond.”

“I’m not going in there while they’re—” I gestured vaguely toward the bedroom, “— that deep into it.”

“Then maybe take a walk,” Raf offered helpfully. “Or a shower. Or both. Just... do us all a favor and deal with the growing threat in your pants before you implode.”

I turned away, jaw clenched, trying to will the bond to settle.

But I could still feel her. Still taste her name in the back of my throat like a promise I hadn’t earned yet.

I needed to get the fuck out of this room.

Now .

I shoved away from the wall, fingers twitching at my sides, trying not to fumble my next breath.

Raf, of course, noticed.

“Alright, Romeo,” he said, hopping to his feet with a dramatic stretch. “Before you go storming in there like a man possessed, I recommend the guest bath— not the one next to the master, unless you’re in the mood for a threesome or lifelong trauma.”

I didn’t answer. Just shot him a look that would’ve made most men sit down and shut up.

Raf only grinned. “Far end of the hall. Marble floor, skylight, obnoxiously expensive soap. You’ll love it.”

I didn’t thank him.

Didn’t need to.

I moved through the apartment with heavy steps, pulse still pounding, heat still dragging behind my ribs like something clawing to get out. Every corner of the space felt too close. Too saturated in her.

The moment I stepped into the bathroom, I didn’t stop moving.

Door locked. Shirt over my head. Pants dropped. Water on—cold, a sharp hiss from the pipes—before I even thought about it.

I stepped under the spray, head bowed, water pounding against my back and shoulders like it could wash the bond off my skin.

It didn’t.

The cold bit into me, chased heat from my veins, but the ache didn’t vanish. It just curled tighter. Deeper.

My hands pressed flat against the tile as I let the water pour over me, trying to focus on the chill, on the pressure, on anything that wasn’t the memory of her voice, the echo of her pleasure, the way she’d reached for me in the middle of giving herself to someone else.

Not instead of Sylus.

Alongside him.

The bond didn’t lie.

And it didn’t let go.

The cold water hit me like a slap, but it wasn’t enough.

I braced both palms against the slick tile, chest heaving, water streaming down my back and arms, dripping from my chin. My forehead pressed to the wall as I sucked in a breath—sharp, shallow. My body didn’t want cold. It wanted her.

I couldn’t stop seeing her. The way her mouth parted when she gasped. The way her body arched into touch. The soft, broken sounds she made when she let herself feel everything.

And fuck, I wanted to be the one pulling those sounds from her lips.

I wanted to have her beneath me, above me— anywhere —legs tangled with mine, skin flushed, her voice ragged and breathy in my ear, begging me for—

My breath caught.

My hips flexed forward, instinctual, like I could grind this need out of me just by willing it to fade.

It didn’t.

It only made it worse.

I gritted my teeth, fingers splaying wide against the wall as I felt her again—this low, unintentional pull down the bond. Not a memory. A feeling. She was still keyed up, still lost in Sylus, but part of her… reached.

And it reached for me.

The ache hit low and hot, a deep pulse right behind my navel that made my hand twitch at my side.

I wanted to touch her. Hold her. Feel her thighs tremble around me. Hear her cry out my name when I made her—

I exhaled hard, the noise caught between a growl and a groan.

My hand moved—slowly, almost without thought—sliding down my abdomen, slick with water and heat. My fingers hovered, every muscle taut, breath ragged as the ache sharpened into something unbearable.

I needed release.

But more than that, I needed her.

Not just to sate the need in my body—but to answer the pull in my soul.

I couldn’t keep pretending.

Not with the bond tearing through me like this—threading around my spine, scraping along every nerve with her voice, her breath, her skin. Even with cold water slamming into my back, my body only burned hotter.

I let my head fall back against the tile, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut as the image of her behind my eyes refused to fade. Her flushed skin. Her mouth parted. The arch of her body. The sound she made when she gave in completely.

Gods, she was still feeling it. Still riding that edge with Sylus—but she hadn’t closed the bond. Not to me.

She’d left it open.

And that was my undoing.

My hand slid lower, finally giving in, fingertips grazing the rigid line of heat that had been demanding attention since the moment her pleasure rolled down the thread and into my chest. I cursed under my breath as the first jolt of contact shot through me like lightning.

It wasn’t just lust. It was need .

Not for control.

Not for dominance.

Just for connection.

I wanted to feel her. Wrap my arms around her from behind, guide her hips to move against me, bury my mouth in the crook of her neck and stay there while she trembled in my hands.

I wanted her skin under my palms, soft and warm. I wanted her legs around my waist, her nails in my shoulders, her voice wrecked by the time I was finished worshipping every inch of her.

The water pounded harder now, or maybe it just felt that way because my pulse had begun to roar in my ears. My breath came rough, broken. I let my hand close fully around myself and breathed her in —imagined her beneath me, wet and willing, her body so perfectly aligned with mine it felt like coming home.

I didn’t hold back anymore.

Not from the ache.

Not from the bond.

Not from the fantasy of her mouth saying my name like it belonged to her.

Because it did .

The rhythm of my hand around my cock matched the rhythm in my head—slow, firm, aching with restraint. Every breath dragged her deeper into my mind. Every pulse of the bond poured her scent, her sounds, her body through me like smoke curling into my lungs.

Gods, I could feel her.

Not just the echo of her pleasure—but the way her thighs clenched. The arch of her back. The tension in her fingers when she dug them into someone’s skin. Into his skin.

Sylus.

He was with her. Wrapped around her like a shadow. Steady. Fierce. Fucking devoted.

And somehow, I could feel him , too.

Not the physical side—not the exact movements—but the intent. The burn in his chest that mirrored my own. The way he held her like she was both salvation and sin. The way he knew her body, not by instinct, but from memory. Every ridge. Every sound. Every breath.

I swore under my breath, my hand tightening imperceptibly around my shaft as I leaned heavier into the wall.

And still— still —the bond stayed open. Welcoming. Like Ori didn’t want to close me out. Like she couldn’t.

And gods help me—I didn’t want to be closed out.

The image in my head shifted—twisted.

It wasn’t just her anymore.

It was them.

Her breathy moans tangled with the low rumble of Sylus’ voice in her ear, the way he probably said her name like a vow. The way her body likely arched for him the same way I imagined it doing for me. And the way I wanted it— wanted them both.

That part scared me.

Not because I didn’t understand it.

But because I did.

The bond wasn’t just some accident. It was intentional. Fused. Bigger than instinct. Bigger than the old rules I’d wrapped myself in like armor.

Sylus wasn’t just a rival.

He was part of it.

Part of her.

And if I was being honest with myself—part of me , too.

Not in the clean, simple way I’d expected. But in the burning, complicated way the bond demanded. A shared thread, wrapped around all three of us, and tugging tighter by the second.

My hand moved again, more deliberate strokes now, chasing the edge with clenched teeth and a throat gone dry.

Because I didn’t just want her moaning my name.

I wanted to see her— between us.

Torn and whole.

I wanted Sylus there, too.

Watching.

Touching.

Taking.

And gods help me—I wanted to take him, too.

Not out of dominance.

Not out of challenge.

But because something inside me was done pretending we weren’t already bound at the root.

Ori.

Sylus.

Me.

One fucking bond.

And I was finally starting to understand what it wanted.

The pressure built fast, but not in the mindless, furious way it usually did.

This was different.

Slower. Heavier. More sacred than sinful.

Every breath I took dragged the bond tighter around my ribs—like a tether winding in reverse. Not pulling me toward just her, but toward them both.

I felt her first.

Ori's breath caught, her release blooming through the bond like the spark of a struck match—sudden, hot, radiant. It hit low in my gut, curled behind my navel, and pulsed through me with a rawness I wasn’t ready for. Her pleasure was molten, bright—like light refracted through heat-hazed glass. She was crying out, body bowing, and even though she wasn’t saying my name, part of her felt like she was.

She was calling for both of us.

Then came Sylus.

Solid. Unyielding. Controlled—until the moment cracked.

His release surged like a thunderclap beneath the surface—dense and dark and crashing like a tidal wave. Not gentle. Not soft. It tore through the bond with a depth that made my knees tremble. It wasn’t just lust—it was need , unspoken and ancient. A silent confession wrapped in the soundless scream of giving in completely.

And all of it— all of it —poured into me.

My own pleasure followed like a spark chasing dry kindling, catching fire fast. My breath hitched as my hand gripped tighter, body locking, bowing forward under the intensity.

I came undone with a choked gasp, every nerve raw, white-hot, spiraling.

The tile was cold against my forehead, but I barely felt it.

All I felt was them.

The slick heat of her skin. The grounding grip of his hands. Her thighs wrapped around his waist. Her fingers curled in his hair. The bond singing with completion, echoing their satisfaction like a melody written just for me.

And I broke on it.

Not in pain.

Not in fear.

But in awe.

My body shook as the waves crashed through me, cresting high and then slowly, gently, beginning to fall away. Each aftershock a soft reminder of everything we were becoming.

The high didn’t vanish all at once.

It clung.

To my skin. To my spine. To the raw ache behind my sternum.

To the bond.

I slumped back against the cool tile, chest heaving, water washing away everything but the burn still echoing in my bones. My hand dropped to my side, fingers limp, every inch of me sapped—yet more alive than I’d felt in days.

They were still there, in that room, wrapped in each other.

And somehow, even though I’d never touched either of them—

I had.

We were bound now.

In more ways than one.

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

…ORIEN…

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

The room was quiet.

Not in that heavy, post-storm kind of silence—but the soft, shimmering hush that only came after something sacred.

Moonlight spilled through the curtains, brushing against the tangled sheets, the pale sweep of Sylus’ shoulder, and the fluttering rise of my own chest where I lay half-draped across him. His arm was curled protectively around my back, palm flat against my spine like he was still anchoring me there.

Maybe he was.

I could still feel the echo of him inside me—his breath, his body, his heartbeat slowed under my cheek.

We didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

The bond between us was warm, steady, humming low and golden in the space between our chests.

But then… there was something else.

Another pulse.

Not Sylus.

My brow furrowed slightly, my fingers flexing against his skin as something flickered at the edge of my awareness—raw and hot, like the fading trail of lightning. It wasn’t immediate. It was residual. Lingering.

Zayne.

His name came to me not in thought, but sensation.

The coil of his desire. The burn behind his ribs. The need that had stretched itself out down the bond like fingers blindly reaching in the dark.

I inhaled sharply, and Sylus’ hand slid up to cradle the back of my head, thumb brushing behind my ear.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice rough, low.

“Yeah,” I whispered. But my voice sounded distant even to me.

Because I could feel him.

Zayne.

Not just faintly. Not in the way I normally could when the bond sat dormant.

This was recent.

Active.

My heart stumbled a beat, and suddenly I was hyperaware of everything—the cool sweat on my skin, the stickiness between my thighs, the bond flaring like embers catching new wind.

And somewhere through it…

Pleasure.

Not mine.

Not Sylus’.

His.

The realization hit like cold water.

I’d felt him. While I’d been with Sylus.

And he’d felt me.

Not just through some passive bleed in the bond—no. This had been open. Unfiltered.

And I hadn’t meant to.

I swallowed hard, pushing up slightly to look down at Sylus. His eyes were still half-lidded, relaxed. Spent.

He hadn’t felt it.

But I had.

And somehow… I’d been the one who’d opened that door.

Sylus' breathing was deep, steady beneath me, his hand still curled around the curve of my hip. I stayed there a moment longer, eyes tracing the line of his collarbone glowing faintly in the moonlight, my skin still humming where he’d touched me—where he’d claimed me in everything but name.

But I couldn’t stay.

Not because I didn’t want to.

But because I felt him.

Zayne.

His pleasure still shimmered faintly down the bond like the heat that lingers in your chest after a long pull of something strong.

And I didn’t know how to feel about it.

Carefully, I shifted.

Sylus stirred faintly beneath me but didn’t wake as I gently peeled his arm from around my waist. I pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder—one part comfort, one part apology—before I slid from the bed and stepped quietly onto the hardwood floor.

The moonlight spilled in waves across the soft robin’s egg blue bedding, the room smelling faintly of incense and warmth and something innately the owner .

Rafayel’s apartment.

Rafayel’s bed.

And somewhere in here…

I moved toward the open armoire on the far wall, fingers trailing through hanging clothes until I found something oversized and soft—an open-sleeved, deep-plunged silk shirt, unmistakably his. The color was a smoky plum that caught the light as I slipped it on, the fabric falling past my thighs like a whisper.

Figures. Rafayel didn’t own anything that wasn’t suggestive, it would seem.

It smelled like his cologne—sharp citrus and something faintly spiced—and despite myself, it made me feel a little braver as I crossed to the door.

I didn’t look back at the bed.

I couldn’t.

I moved down the short hallway into the ensuite bathroom, the one I’d broken down in earlier. Where everything had felt like it was slipping. Where Zayne had found me curled on the tile, shaking. Where he’d kissed me like he needed it—like I was something worth fighting the whole world for.

The memory hit harder than I expected.

The tile was cold under my feet again, the air still heavy with the quiet from earlier. But this time, the silence wasn’t panic—it was full of echoes.

My reflection caught in the mirror above the sink—bare legs, loose silk shirt barely buttoned, hair tangled, lips swollen. The lingering flush on my cheeks made it obvious what I’d just done. Who I’d just been with.

But it wasn’t Sylus' hands I felt now.

It was Zayne’s breath on my skin. The bond still barely open, still tingling at the edge of awareness. As if part of him hadn’t stopped holding on.

As if some piece of me… hadn’t stopped reaching.

I lingered in front of the mirror longer than I should have, fingers gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, pulse still unsteady. The hem of Rafayel’s shirt brushed against the tops of my thighs as I breathed—slow, shallow.

It wasn’t just Sylus’ scent on me anymore.

I could feel Zayne in my chest. Still. Quiet now, but present . And I didn’t know how to put that away.

I opened the bathroom door quietly, stepping back into the hallway. The air in the apartment was still—too still. Like something was waiting.

And then I saw him.

Zayne stepped out of the guest bathroom across the apartment at the exact same moment I did, towel slung low around his hips, water still clinging to his chest and dripping from the ends of his hair. His skin gleamed under the ambient light, but it was his eyes that caught me—wild and stormy, locked right onto me.

We both froze.

The silence in the room sharpened, curled inward.

He looked wrecked.

And I knew without needing to ask that he’d felt everything.

Not just through the bond, but through me.

I could feel it now, the faint openness between us. Not wide. Not intentional.

But enough.

Enough to know he hadn’t just been watching from a distance.

He’d been with us.

And gods help me—I had let him in.

Across the room, Rafayel let out a low, drawn-out whistle.

“Wow. The tension in here,” he mused, licking his thumb and flicking it in the air like a flame. “Someone light a candle and cue the saxophone before one of you combusts.”

I blinked, my gaze breaking from Zayne’s just long enough to shoot Raf a glare. Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just looked at me. Like I was the only thing tethering him to the floor.

Xavier, gods bless him, sighed through his nose.

“Rafayel,” he said with calm finality, “you’re coming with me.”

“What? Now?” Raf raised his brows, mock-offended. “But the show’s just getting interesting. Are we doing a confession or a breakdown first, do you think? Or maybe—”

“Out,” Xavier said, already moving toward the door.

He caught Raf’s arm and began dragging him with surprising efficiency.

“We have a club to prep. Pack announcements. Mood lighting to approve.”

“Oh fine,” Raf huffed, waving lazily behind him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Which admittedly leaves very few limits!”

And then they were gone.

The front door clicked shut, and the apartment fell into silence again.

Just me.

And Zayne.

Still shirtless. Still dripping. Still watching me like I was the gravity anchoring his entire goddamn world.

My mouth went dry.

The bond didn’t flare.

It waited.

The apartment was too quiet.

Not peaceful. Not calm.

It was the kind of silence that wrapped around your throat and held.

Zayne stood across the room, steam still rising faintly from his skin, the towel slung low on his hips clinging to every sharp line and cut of him. Water beaded along his collarbone, trailed slowly down the center of his chest, and disappeared beneath the soft fabric like it had somewhere better to be.

And still—he didn’t move.

Neither did I.

I was wrapped in Rafayel’s ridiculous silk shirt, half-buttoned, half-forgotten, and far too aware of the air between my bare thighs. But more than that… I was aware of him.

Zayne.

The bond between us didn’t surge this time. It wasn’t hot or frantic or overwhelming.

It just was.

Present. Alive. Waiting.

His gaze trailed down the length of me and back up—slow, deliberate, not lustful exactly, but reverent in a way that made heat crawl up my neck.

I shifted, arms crossed loosely over my chest, though it didn’t cover much.

He still hadn’t said a word.

Neither had I.

The weight of what we’d both felt lingered in the air like perfume, like tension after lightning.

We had been with each other—body, mind, soul. Without ever touching.

And now we were here.

Together.

Real.

My feet moved before I realized it. One slow step forward. Then another.

He matched me.

Neither of us rushed. Neither of us looked away.

It was slow, deliberate, like gravity drawing us together one breath at a time.

And then—

“I didn’t mean to open the bond,” I whispered.

The words came out softer than I expected. Fragile.

Zayne’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t look angry.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, voice rough. “You did. ”

My heart skittered in my chest.

I stopped a foot away from him.

Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin.

Close enough to see the droplets clinging to his lashes.

He looked down at me like I was still echoing inside him.

And I was.

Gods, I could feel it.

“Did you feel…” I swallowed, “everything?”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“Yes.”

My breath caught. I nodded slowly, though I didn’t know why. Maybe because there was nothing left to hide.

Zayne took the final step.

Not touching me— not yet —but standing so close our bond hummed louder in my chest.

“You let me in,” he murmured.

“I didn’t mean to,” I said again.

“I know.”

His voice was low. Intimate. Almost tender.

“But you wanted to.”

Zayne didn’t touch me.

But gods, it felt like he had.

We stood there, barely a breath apart, the space between us stretched tight with everything unsaid and everything felt. My fingers curled slightly at my sides, wanting—aching—to reach for him.

But neither of us moved.

He broke eye contact first, just slightly, glancing past me into the room, like he was looking for something to anchor himself. And then, without a word, he stepped away.

I didn’t stop him.

He crossed to the couch where Rafayel, in a rare moment of foresight or mischief, had draped a pair of black sweatpants over one armrest. Zayne picked them up, shook them out once, then stepped into them in silence, tugging the waistband into place with quiet efficiency.

The sight of him half-wet and half-dressed shouldn’t have done things to me.

But it did.

Maybe because I’d felt every shudder of his release not ten minutes ago.

Maybe because he’d felt mine.

He didn’t look at me as he moved back toward the window, tossing the towel over the backrest of the couch, arms folding over his chest as he leaned a shoulder to the wall. The moonlight caught the water still clinging to his jaw.

“What just happened,” he said slowly, eyes forward, “wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t.”

We stood in that quiet for a while—long enough that I almost turned back toward the bedroom.

Then he spoke again.

“But it wasn’t wrong.”

My throat felt tight.

“No,” I whispered. “It didn’t feel wrong.”

He looked at me again.

The want was still there in his eyes, but it was buried under layers of restraint. Confusion. Care.

“The bond pulled me in,” he said. “Hard. I tried to shut it out at first. I didn’t think I should feel any of it.”

“But you did.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I did. Everything. ”

I looked down, arms wrapping tighter around myself.

“And I felt you,” I said. “While I was with Sylus. I didn’t know I’d opened it. But... part of me was reaching.”

Zayne’s jaw worked. His voice, when it came, was quiet.

“I know.”

The silence stretched again.

This time I broke it.

“What does this mean, Zayne?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he ran a hand through his damp hair and let out a breath like he’d been holding it since the moment I stepped out of the bedroom.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But it didn’t just feel like watching. It felt like I was with you. Like the bond didn’t see walls or distance. It just... pulled.”

A shiver slid down my spine.

“It felt that way to me too,” I admitted. “Like we were—like all three of us were… overlapping.”

His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

“Sylus felt it?” he asked, voice barely above a breath.

I shook my head. “No. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything. I don’t think the bond reached him the way it did you. Maybe because we were already—” I trailed off, swallowing.

Zayne didn’t need me to finish the sentence.

Because we both knew what had happened in that room wasn’t just about Sylus and me anymore.

It never had been.

Zayne shifted.

Bare feet on hardwood.

Not sudden. Not dramatic.

Just one step, then another—each one careful, like getting too close might spook me. Or maybe him.

My breath caught as he came closer again, the heat of his body meeting mine before his hands ever did. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t even reach.

He just stood there.

Close.

And it was enough to make my heart stutter in my chest.

His voice came low, rough around the edges. “I keep thinking about how he knows you.”

I blinked, surprised by the honesty. “Sylus?”

He nodded, eyes never leaving mine. “He knows how you breathe. How you move. What to say to ground you. What not to say when you’re too far gone to hear it.”

I swallowed, the bond fluttering lightly between us.

“He’s had time,” I said softly. “We went through a lot together.”

“I know.” Zayne’s voice was barely above a whisper. “And I’m not trying to take anything from that. I wouldn’t. But…”

He hesitated.

My fingers curled slightly in the silk at my sides. “But what?”

His jaw tightened before he spoke. “I want to know you too, Ori.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

Not because of how he said them.

But because he meant them.

Not as an Alpha demanding something from an Omega. Not as a rival pushing for ground Sylus had already claimed.

But as a man trying to understand a bond he hadn’t asked for—but wanted anyway.

Desperately.

“I don’t just want to feel you when the bond rips me open,” he continued, softer now. “I want to know what makes you laugh. What makes you shut down. What kind of tea you drink when you can’t sleep. I want to learn the curve of your moods, not just your body.”

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because I wasn’t expecting this.

Not from him.

Not tonight.

He still didn’t touch me.

But gods, his nearness burned more than skin.

It reached somewhere under my ribs. Somewhere that hadn’t let itself hope.

“I don’t want to compete with Sylus,” Zayne said, voice barely audible now. “I want to stand next to him. If there’s space for me.”

He finally looked away, just for a moment. “But I have to know you’ll let me see you.”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because my heart was busy climbing its way up my throat.

The silence between us held.

Not empty.

Not awkward.

Weighted.

Zayne didn’t move.

And neither did I.

But I felt the heat of him—just inches away. His presence didn’t demand. Didn’t press.

He waited.

Like he’d stay in that space between us as long as I needed him to.

I looked down at the floor. At the tips of our toes, almost touching. At the silk shirt whispering around my thighs like a ghost of someone braver than I felt.

“I used to think,” I said softly, “that no one would ever want to know me.”

Zayne didn’t respond. But he didn’t look away either.

“They didn’t want me , back there. Not who I was. Not what I thought. They just wanted a womb.” My voice was quiet, matter-of-fact. “Caleb. Ephraim. Their whole pack. I wasn’t anyone important. I was a resource.”

I heard his breath shift.

“Before Sylus, I didn’t have a wolf in me,” I went on, the words tasting stale even now, “so they didn’t see a mate or companion. They saw... a thing, an abomination. Something to use. Breedable, eventually. Docile. Contained.”

My chest ached with the memory of that cold, distant plan. The way they’d spoken over me. The way they’d looked at me like a vessel and nothing more.

“I was never supposed to be seen, ” I whispered. “Not like this. Not like now.”

I could feel him listening. Really listening.

And that made it harder somehow.

Because it meant he wasn’t afraid of the ugliness.

He was here for it.

“I spent so long trying to disappear,” I said, blinking back the sting behind my eyes. “And then Sylus came, and he looked at me like I was real. Like I wasn’t just broken. And now you…”

I hesitated.

The bond flickered.

And then steadied again.

“You scare me,” I admitted, voice barely audible. “Not because of who you are. But because you want to see me. And I don’t know if I know how to be seen by someone like you.”

Zayne still didn’t speak.

He just stood there, breathing quiet and steady.

Holding space.

Not reaching.

Not rushing.

Just burning with me.

And gods, part of me was starting to wonder if I wanted to be seen like this —by him—more than I wanted to stay safe.

The silence stretched just a breath longer.

Then he spoke.

“I don’t need all of you right now,” Zayne said quietly, his voice lower than I’d ever heard it. “Just the part you’re ready to give.”

The words stopped me.

Not because they were bold.

But because they were soft.

Because they didn’t demand, or expect, or try to fix.

They simply were.

His eyes met mine again—not burning this time, but steady. Grounded. The kind of look someone gave you when they weren’t looking through you or at what they wanted from you.

But into you.

And seeing only you.

“I’m not here to prove something to Sylus,” he continued. “Or to take anything away from what you already have with him. I just want a place. My place. Wherever it fits.”

I stared at him, barely breathing.

Because that was what Sylus had given me, once— safety without pressure . Strength without control. He had held the weight of my fear without flinching.

And now here was Zayne, not trying to echo Sylus.

But somehow… being that same kind of safe.

Only different.

Only his.

And something inside me cracked.

Not broken.

Just softening.

The kind of soft that happens when you realize the armor you’ve been wearing might not be necessary anymore.

Not here.

Not with him.

I didn’t step forward.

Not yet.

But I didn’t pull away either.

And that— that felt like something beginning.

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

[princess-of-the-corner]

Idea, Skulker and a smart phone.

Tucker spends the entire thing wrestling with voice commands (after trying to jailbreak the smart phone), and then Skulker ends up assimilating the smart phone and the voice commands affect his armor.

Namely, the voice commands that misinterpret everything.

Skulker's ready to throw hands and all the banter keeps setting off Siri.

EXACTLY!!!

[aahsoka]

Ads for AI like gemini are crazy. first of all. google voice command/Siri/etc has been serving exactly the same function for at least a decade already. second. why is it always someone asking it the world’s stupidest question. ‘gemini how can i organize my closet’ ‘you can put foldable clothes in bins’ you’re telling me you couldnt come up with that idea yourself??? you had to ask the ai on ur phone to realize you can organize a space with bins ?????? it feels like ….. an admission that ur product truly cannot do anything new or useful lmfao .

[barbielore]

Hello Barbie and the Hello Dreamhouse were releases by Mattel to try to keep up with modern technology. In the age of Siri and Alexa, the Hello Barbie and Hello Dreamhouse were voice-activated Barbie toys.

However, much like Video Girl Barbie before her, when Hello Barbie hit the market, she raised a lot of concerns about privacy.

Hello Barbie essentially used the same mechanics as any other voice activated digital assistant - with the help of a WiFi connection, you could talk to Barbie and she could talk back. However a number of security concerns were raised about this, ranging from ToyTalk's privacy policy outright saying it keeps the data and shares this with third parties, to the possibility that a hacker could at best make Barbie say something rude or at worst, use this data to obtain personal information about other people's children.

The company offered a bounty to anyone who could help them identify potential weaknesses in the Barbie... but at the end of the day, perhaps the Barbie was more trouble than she was worth. Kids don't need a Barbie doll with an internet connection. (Does that make me sound like a curmudgeon?)

The Hello Dreamhouse didn't talk back (obviously, it's a house) but was theoretically supposed to respond to voice commands to emulate a smart home. The doors could open by voice command, the chandelier disco ball could spin and light up in different colours, and so on.

However after the privacy concerns and a lot of bugs and glitches, the Dreamhouse was discontinued along with Hello Barbie.

You know what stands out to me about that, though? Once they were discontinued, existing Hello Barbies and Hello Dreamhouses no longer worked, as the app was no longer supported.

Meaning anyone who had bought this and was using it no longer had access to the product they paid for.

[accessibleaesthetics]

Hey! Maybe a bit of a silly question, but do you have any idea what the most common screen readers are? I was hoping to use them to get a bit of an idea how my image descriptions sound/what could be improved, but there's so many that I'm not sure where to start.

Sure thing! If you use a mac or any apple device, including an iPhone, you already have VoiceOver built in. Just say "Voice Over On" to Siri and it will start up! You might need to adjust the speed settings though, depending on your preference.

The same is true if you have an android phone, it comes built in with Talk Back. I don't know if you can turn that on via voice command though since I don't have an android.

If you have a PC, you have Windows Narrator, but I'm told that not the best. You'd better off downloading NVDA.

[queerjarreadyforwar]

Quotes

These are my quotes from my quote list

“my father is literally like a worm” -Adelle

“thou bearded one, grant us with thy wisdom” -luke to mr warren

“was your skin white when you were younger?” -Grayson

“walmart is a lawless place” -Mckenna

“i don’t want to die or be your minion, i want to be a good man!” -Grayson

“dude is our grandma gay?” -Asher

"I miss the og Germans, the ones in the 1930-40s" - luke

“iM a LiFeGuArD” -Grayson

“we’ll have to call the lifeguard, the emt’s, foster care…….” -Luca

(in a depressed manner) “welcome to choo choo charles train ride, made of magic and fun” -Grayson

“i want you guys to be safe, calm, and responsible” (in a material girl voice) -Grayson

"I'm not a mother" - luke  (a mother)

“do you like the feeling of my toes on your body?” -Emery

“if this was minecraft, i could drop anvils on you” -Mckenna

“He’s invincible, you dunk him and he comes back up and goes ‘mEoW’” -Asher

“HE PULLED ME OUT TO THE MIDDLE OF THE LAKE WITHOUT A LIFE VEST AND PROCEEDED TO PULL ME UNDER AND CHOKE ME FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES STRAIGHT” -Mckenna

 “If you can’t handle the bait, how will you handle the fish?” -Mckenna

“Asher: how do worms get down the stairs?

Mckenna: Barrel roll barrel roll barrel roll barrel roll barrel roll barrel roll-“

“(on a kayak paddle in the middle of the lake) WE WILL RIDE OUR BROOMS TO MEHICO! EHEHEHEHEHE” -Grayson

“Who’s the better pole dancer?” -Asher

“My butt juices are on the pole, watch out” -Grayson

“I was left in the middle of the lake with a giant Glizzy!” -Mckenna

“isn’t this unicorn abuse?” -Grayson

“so you want to f—- a boy worm” -mason

“i can’t, im locked in a crate” -EJ

“sir, the mexicans are no longer accepting our commands.” -misheard movie (ultraman)

 "I'm spreading my cream" -Mason

“Luca: (serious) I had a dream

Grayson: (singing) ThAt i wOuLd fLy aWaY”

(the sound of my sister yelling and things falling) “i hear them squabbling up there” -Grayson

“I’m using the buildings at ur camp to recreate 9/11” -Luke

“our new state is gentapeide (gent-a-peed)” -Grayson

“i don’t want to get lightning striked by zeus” -Grayson

“fee fi fo fe zeus is a stowaway” -Grayson

“But ur phone case looks rlly edible” -Luke

“kenna, I’m going to smack you across america” -Grayson

“I’ve come up with a good way to get children” -Luke

“when you put it in your mouth it gets really hard” -Luca

“If you don’t stop talking about the pee-nine-ale shaft, imma kill you” -Grayson

“i love him though, no matter how many times he smacks me aggressively and with vigor” -Mckenna

“Dad, what happens when the devil takes over your body? ask siri.” -Grayson

“U could probably get an employee discount at red lobster” -Luke

“Mckenna:Dad, why is Luca taking the same pill as me?

Emery: Because you have the same disease.”

“Are you cheating on me with hitler?” -Mckenna

"I haven't stuck my wiener in the virgins... yet" 

- Mason

 "Guys, the lights are off, let's love ourselves" -Mason

“The bloodthirsty centipedes are back for my toes” -Mckenna

"QUIT STICKING THAT PENCIL UP MY ASS"

Quinten 

Why are your hands covered in cream??? 

-Mason 

If my homie sends a dick pic I already know he's gay - Mason 

“grayson: What does jaundice mean?

Mckenna: babies can get it and it’s when their skin is yellow.

Grayson: Emery, you were a tellatubby?”

“i’m doing deliciously well my friend”

-Ciesil

“Maybe the real rockbridge was the friends we made along the way” -Luke

“I don’t understand womaneese” -Luke

“it’s rlly fun when u cram seven people into one bed, u have to fight to sleep next to ur pookie” -Mckenna

“Hank just plays dead until it’s his time to shine” -Luke

“It’s probably hard to know that your people are going to betray you” -Brynley 

“Mckenna: love is a four letter word.

Luca: so is Luca.

Mckenna: yeah but it’s ironic since nobody loves you.” 

“IM NOT MICROWAVE SAFE THO”

-Mckenna

“I can do it but i can’t use my full force in public” -Grayson

“I can’t be with you anymore. I’m allergic to ugly” -Ryder

“Would you spread your legs and run” -Jamie

“Patience is a virgin”

-Colette

“Isn’t Kentucky in canada? like right under mon tana?” 

-Garret

“im a former crank-ist”

-Mckenna

“If u want the rush then come to my house 😏”

-Luke

“All I remember was me beating a buncha prisoners with a plastic shovel and then drop kicking a raccoon “

-Luke

“Grayson: that was scary, i almost blew up the entire church.

Mckenna: What….

Grayson: yea with my sprite.”

“ما هو علاج حب 🧡 شباب البشرة و الحبوب و الحبوب” 

-Mckenna

“Oh yea my gfs having her 8th child. How old is she? 14. Are they my children? No they just spawn in or smth”

-Luke

“I just killed a guy with a bunch of chairs”

-Luke

“I killed Perry the platypus and now he’s prowling for revenge”

-Luke

“Dude I fucking love tentacles”

-Laurel

“i didn’t even break a tear” 

-Grayson

“The people who have my children are texting me” 

-Magistra Koon

“Good morning Kenna, you were in my nightmare”

-Emery

“Y do the turkeys go gobble gobble but it’s always them who end up being gobble gobbled ):”

-Luke

“when you die, your soul goes into a spaceship and you blast off into space and into heaven, everybody knows that, dUh”

-Grayson

“do you know the gums inside your teeth? like in your mouth? God put guns in your mouth and shot the holes and put your teeth there”

-Grayson

“Luca: you know what would be fun?-

Emery: snapping your neck open and eating all your insides and outsides?”

“can we go to popeyes?” 

-Grayson

“can we go to holiday inn?”

-Grayson

“Father: Kenna? are you going to come up and find some dinner?

Mckenna: are we hunting?”

“Mckenna: if you are lacking proper nutrition, eat your children.

Father: i don’t think so tim.”

“we were standing at the enolla gay, the plane that dropped the bomb at hiroshima. in the cockpit was a fan, and i said it probably gets hot in there. emery said “i wish i had a fan, im on fire right now” and i proceeded to say “you know what else was on fire?” but then i stopped my self and slowly looked at my dad and he gave me a look.”

-Mckenna

“this plane reminds me of you, dad. cus you’re THAT THICK” 

-Emery

“i think i’ve been possessed by amelia airheart”

-Mckenna

“see how many people are in their dumpsters, that’ll answer your question”

-Mckenna

“whip out your meat in the middle of homecoming” 

-Kade

“You’re built like a lincoln log”

-Mckenna

“the hustle and bustle builds the muscle, y’know? cus fighting off warlords is hard”

-Mckenna

“yea, my organs are guns”

-Grayson

“i don’t know about you guys, but im trying to stick my middle finger up with my toes”

-Grayson

“he’s got to open up them hips for childbirth”

-Mckenna

"I swear to god if you pull a satellite out of your back pocket."

-Mckenna

"BITCH U ARE GETO DID U FORGET WHO U ARE???"

-Mckenna

"Why tf do I keep making these weird gulping noises???"

-Laurel

"Yes, I've been going through extreme mood swings lately. Why? JEFFERY DAHMER! Bro is SO FINE, if I was a man, i would go he could take me home with him any day!"

-Mckenna and Laurel

“mannequin rizz”

-Mckenna

“we’re having bondage”

-Laurel

“it’s the beads…… they choke me….”

-Laurel 

"That's not my man that's a pedophile!"

-Mckenna

“Ya’ll better fix the wifi before i commit genocide”

-Mckenna

“i pulled a grandma”

-Mckenna

“Get rid of his hair and he looks like angry birds”

-Mckenna

“Who the heck is covid?”

-Garret

“Benny, i will castrate you”

-Luke

“i turned sixty a few years ago”

-Grayson

“if it’s flammable, you can light it”

-Coach Lacy

“it’s loud and then quiet, that’s how introverts roll. you never know about it because you never experience introvert-ing”

-Grayson

“His brain is the DVD logo and he forms a single thought when it hits the corner”

-Kade

“i feel like a forklift”

-Ezra

“i’m saving up to buy a unicorn”

-Jesse

“i’ve seen people in the streets”

Grayson

"Merry Christmas you FILTHY fucking ANIMAL"

Laurel

“i was born in jeminary”

-Liv

“you’ll be fine, grow up”

-Father 

“AW SON OF A BITCH”

-popo

“what did the little bastard get into now?”

-popo

“Their team just bitch slapped yall”

-Popo

“a ring? oh my gosh, she is marrying her dad”

-Emery

“quotes from popo? oh gosh nothing racist.”

-Mother

“my money said i have to buy a tropical aquarium”

-Grayson

“My skin’s coming off”

-Grayson

“Well I never knew strokes could be so fun”

-Laurel

“i’d like to be a cookie”

-Brynley

“the answer is jesus, because God”

-Lizzy

“Father: who’s the boss?

Grayson: A goat”

“Guys I love spiders you don’t understand”

-Kade

“you’re so lucky you have hair”

-Grayson

“checkers is the most easiest chess game ever”

-Grayson

“like a flesh vest?”

-Kenna

“this looks like a bootlegged big bird”

-Grayson

“Mom: i’ll scratch out your paper.

Emery: why don’t we scratch out his penis”

“mom: what is the longest bone in the human body?

Grayson: your penis”

“can we bring him home to work as our servant”

-Grayson

“(holding knife to my throat) kitty doesn’t need to live anymore”

-Grayson

“middle finger in the privates”

-Grayson

“you should see me in my predator form”

-Grayson

“i think they call me the bomber”

-Grayson

“that’s a bird, not an animal”

-Grayson

“tom riddle, tom shittle”

-Grayson

“THEY’RE IN LOVEEEE- nope never mind that’s a child….”

-Mckenna

“(get hit on the butt) OW MY CHIN”

-Grayson

“my gyatt is cold…. I need somebody to warm them up.”

-Mckenna

“well space is not real”

-grayson

“LIQUIDDD DEATHHHHH!!!!! old people in a CANNNN”

-Mckenna

“That’s not the surgery i asked for”

-Colette

“like, could u not poop your pants and wipe it on me?”

-Grayson

“i want a dead kenna for christmasssss”

-Grayson

“Maddie: Can you confirm that her parents are dead?

Luke: *running his hands into each other and making car crash sounds with a straight face*”

“we don’t need air”

-Grayson

“it’s like if Luca was dating a baby”

-Mother

“They’re old people, all they need is butterscotch and death”

-Grayson

“Mother: What position do you play in baseball?

Grayson: uh… A”

“my body does whatever it wants”

-Grayson

“i cannot be contained within the confines of a cage constructed of only peer pressure and societal built standards created to make us feel like we belong somewhere. 🤷🏻‍♀️”

-Kenna

“CATEGORY FOUR?!! That’s like one below category five!!”

-Grayson

“tall people are infertile”

-Kenna

“Mac and cheese and dumplings are not a breakfast”

-Father

“I’ve seen a deer eat a child”

-Will

“if i am ever in the bathroom when an actual intruder is here, i wont hide, ill just let it rip and scare them away”

-Kenna

“you cough like an ipad kid”

-Tracci

“they had butter in the trenches”

-Garret

“the sea hampsters have shells”

-Garret

“okay, be careful you don’t get it in your nuts”

-Grayson

“one time i had my older brother sit on my face and fart”

-Daiman

“Hahahoho I love hitting people”

-Jamie 

“*watches silently as a giant hotdog eating, soulless lepercon does a victory jig on top of thousands of mustard smothered dead disabled kids*”

-Kenna on a chat

Ryder: “we saw bumblebees reproducting”

Jamie: “did you really? That’s.. that’s science”

Kaden: ”in the air is crazy”

“you’re not basketball”

-Kenna

“i have a bad taste of smell”

-luca

“i don’t control the balls”

-Liv

“Me: Rizz

Father: i’ve got no rizz

Me: then how’d you pull her (points to mother)

Father: Jesus”

“my armpits are lubricating”

-Kenna

[pixelizes]

How AI & Machine Learning Are Changing UI/UX Design

Artificial Intelligence (AI) and Machine Learning (ML) are revolutionizing UI/UX design by making digital experiences more intelligent, adaptive, and user-centric. From personalized interfaces to automated design processes, AI is reshaping how designers create and enhance user experiences. In this blog, we explore the key ways AI and ML are transforming UI/UX design and what the future holds.

For more UI/UX trends and insights, visit Pixelizes Blog.

AI-Driven Personalization

One of the biggest changes AI has brought to UI/UX design is hyper-personalization. By analyzing user behavior, AI can tailor content, recommendations, and layouts to individual preferences, creating a more engaging experience.

How It Works:

AI analyzes user interactions, including clicks, time spent, and preferences.

Dynamic UI adjustments ensure users see what’s most relevant to them.

Personalized recommendations, like Netflix suggesting shows or e-commerce platforms curating product lists.

Smart Chatbots & Conversational UI

AI-powered chatbots have revolutionized customer interactions by offering real-time, intelligent responses. They enhance UX by providing 24/7 support, answering FAQs, and guiding users seamlessly through applications or websites.

Examples:

Virtual assistants like Siri, Alexa, and Google Assistant.

AI chatbots in banking, e-commerce, and healthcare.

NLP-powered bots that understand user intent and sentiment.

Predictive UX: Anticipating User Needs

Predictive UX leverages ML algorithms to anticipate user actions before they happen, streamlining interactions and reducing friction.

Real-World Applications:

Smart search suggestions (e.g., Google, Amazon, Spotify).

AI-powered auto-fill forms that reduce typing effort.

Anticipatory design like Google Maps estimating destinations.

AI-Powered UI Design Automation

AI is streamlining design workflows by automating repetitive tasks, allowing designers to focus on creativity and innovation.

Key AI-Powered Tools:

Adobe Sensei: Automates image editing, tagging, and design suggestions.

Figma AI Plugins & Sketch: Generate elements based on user input.

UX Writing Assistants that enhance microcopy with NLP.

Voice & Gesture-Based Interactions

With AI advancements, voice and gesture control are becoming standard features in UI/UX design, offering more intuitive, hands-free interactions.

Examples:

Voice commands via Google Assistant, Siri, Alexa.

Gesture-based UI on smart TVs, AR/VR devices.

Facial recognition & biometric authentication for secure logins.

AI in Accessibility & Inclusive Design

AI is making digital products more accessible to users with disabilities by enabling assistive technologies and improving UX for all.

How AI Enhances Accessibility:

Voice-to-text and text-to-speech via Google Accessibility.

Alt-text generation for visually impaired users.

Automated color contrast adjustments for better readability.

Sentiment Analysis for Improved UX

AI-powered sentiment analysis tools track user emotions through feedback, reviews, and interactions, helping designers refine UX strategies.

Uses of Sentiment Analysis:

Detecting frustration points in customer feedback.

Optimizing UI elements based on emotional responses.

Enhancing A/B testing insights with AI-driven analytics.

Future of AI in UI/UX: What’s Next?

As AI and ML continue to evolve, UI/UX design will become more intuitive, adaptive, and human-centric. Future trends include:

AI-generated UI designs with minimal manual input.

Real-time, emotion-based UX adaptations.

Brain-computer interface (BCI) integrations for immersive experiences.

Final Thoughts

AI and ML are not replacing designers—they are empowering them to deliver smarter, faster, and more engaging experiences. As we move into a future dominated by intelligent interfaces, UI/UX designers must embrace AI-powered design methodologies to create more personalized, accessible, and user-friendly digital products.

Explore more at Pixelizes.com for cutting-edge design insights, AI tools, and UX trends.