Fanfic Book Binding Novels & Stories

“Hurry up though. I miss you lying next to me.” Her words made me smile but I couldn’t help worrying about Finn. My wolf wasn’t helping matters, feeling torn between staying with one of our mates or going after the other. I knew we couldn’t keep choosing between them this way. Something had to give soon. Curious to know what made Finnick so upset he would leave without a word, I walked over to the discarded item laying on the floor. It was a spiral bound book and in one glance I could see it was a journal or diary of some sort. I felt a pang of guilt knowing I was about to breach Sarah's privacy but my need to understand Finn’s actions overrode my better judgment.

I resume my pacing, focusing on the sensation of each step rather than the pull that tugs beneath my sternum like an invisible hook embedded in flesh. Our office reflects our duality—ancient and modern, order and chaos. Bookshelves line three walls, filled with texts older than most human civilizations. The carved dragon heads that adorn our chairs—thrones, really, though we rarely use them for official business—watch with ruby eyes that sometimes seem to blink when the light shifts. The antique oak desk between us bears the weight of scrolls I've been unable to focus on since Dawn crossed our threshold. Dawn. Even thinking her name sends a ripple of heat across my scar.

Charles took the bag. He reached inside. --- The album was handmade. Not in the amateur sense. Lyla made things with the specific skill of someone who had been making things carefully for years and who understood that the quality of an object was a statement about the value of what it contained. Bound in a dark fabric cover. The pages heavy and cream. The photographs mounted with the attention of someone who had thought about sequence and spacing and what each image needed around it to be received properly. Charles held it. He looked at the cover for a moment.

“You said that’s the only book you’ve found. There’s essentially nothing about how a fae to were conversion would go. Even if you bound her with iron, it might be days of agony. I could never do that to her. Not even if she asks me to. I gave her my Vow. With courage and honor, I will aid and sustain her. To bind her with iron would not be aiding or sustaining.” “Okay, okay. This is the only thing I could find. The rest is anecdotal.” Sean stops the conversation with a raised hand and glances at the door. “Knock, knock.” Darby peeks her head around the corner. “Shall I wait?” she asks, pointing towards the hallway behind her with one of those spindly fingers of hers. Ian shakes his head, ext

It will be edited soon once we've finished the whole book. This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the authors. Likewise, certain characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors' imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental. Bound By Fate Copyright © 2020 Armeia Aguilar & Dei Orduna

She filtered through them, trying to find the perfect one to start with before she stumbled upon one with a very catchy cover. There was a lady or girl with a red hoodie covering almost half of her face with other features like a bowing girl, held down by chains and then surrounded by lit candles. In total, the cover looked really captivating. She brought out the book before shutting the drawer. She wore her glasses and glanced at the book, Bound By The Erstwhile Chains, read the title. She turned it over and saw the author's name, Lara .A. Falowo and a bit about her. Fascinated by the prologue, she dived into the book, flipping pages after pages until she heard a voice come through the inte

Willow nods, she knows it will be. “I know; that’s why I’m putting several spells on it. One to hide the contents from anyone who hasn’t been given permission, one to bind the book closed so only I can open it, and another to make it invisible to everyone's eye when I’m not using it.” She has thought about it all, she will ensure no one can get into it.

At first, it was just… mass. Piled tomes, some leather‑bound, some cheap paperbacks, some thick, cracked hardcovers. They stacked themselves, spines grinding against spines, pages fusing together, bindings bursting, until they made a torso. Arms built themselves from arrhythmic columns of volumes, hands of splayed, stiffened pages whose edges glinted sharp as blades. Chains meandered out of the mess—hundreds of bookmarks, metal and ribbon and cord, weaving themselves into links that wrapped around the book‑body like restraints turned adornment.

Instead of using a lock an organic substance that resembled thin hardened vines or entwined prickly twigs wrapped around the cover and held it closed. They appeared to have a slight nearly living pulse. I scowled curious. What sort of book was this and why was it bound this way? I tugged harder my fingers grazing the rough intricate surface as I attempted to untangle the odd binding. Then a piercing burning pain. I let out a gasp. I looked down at my finger as I flinched away dropping the book with a loud thump. My skin had a thin deep line that was already crimson and dripping blood. With a sharp hiss of pain I muttered a curse. I had been deeply and sharply cut by the binding.

I flinch at the sound of her voice, the ache I didn’t know I still carried cracking in my chest. She softens. “I came,” she whispers, stepping forward and holding the book between us, “because the time for pretending is over.” I take the book from her, it's heavier than it looks. “This belonged to your mother,” she says. “She started it the moment she knew she was carrying you both. It’s her magic, her binding, her warnings… and her hopes for you and your brother.” My fingers tighten around the cover. “You told me once that you didn’t know what she used her powers to bind, other than our wolves. But she bound me entirely.”