#red threads of fate (that bind us together)

[rosesnink]

Red Threads of Fate (That Bind Us Together), Arc I- Black Thorne, White Rose (Pt. 1)

Author's Notes

Je suis back!! After months of not touching this series due to rl craziness, I'm back with COP stuff babey!! This arc will be an interesting one, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. That being said, read the warnings and bon appetit!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

Some parts of the fic will look like they're highlighted. This is an editing errors due to my Word doc crashing many times, losing excerpts because my computer crashed. I know it's annoying, but please try to ignore it and enjoy the read

If you want to be tagged in my COP writing, let me know!

If you want to read more of my ILITW, TRR & D&D stuff, check out my masterlist!!

Summary: Nerea has been in Drakovia for a while, yet she feels very lonely. Meeting a certain Thorne will be eventful... to say the least

Word Count: 2.9k

Category: Romance, coming of age

Pairing: Vasili Thorne x F!OC, Sebastyan Thorne x F!OC (eventually) Marguerite Thorne x F!OC (Nerea Rose) (eventually), mentions of F!Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Neera Rose)

Rating: T

TW: There is a suggestive scene at the end, as well as mentions of discriminations against Romani people, reader's discretion is advised

Book: Crimes of Passion

Two months, six days, a hundred and two minutes and seven hundred minutes.

That’s how long Nerea Rose had been in Drakovia, and not one friend she had made. Sure, there were groups and people she had things in common, but she didn’t seem to have her crowd.

If one didn’t count Juliana Georgescu, but everybody got along fine with the countess. What a life she must lead, Nerea thought. Nevertheless, it seemed that power and wealth had a price, for her mothers had found her a suitor. The Crown Princess, no less. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she bumped into someone, dumping coffee and books all over the place. A small curse in Drakovian was spit, and Nerea did her best to apologize in an accentuated Drakovian “My apologies, I did not see you at all! Please, let me help you—,” She froze in place when she caught sight of the brown skin, dark eyes and glasses “Y-Your Royal Highness! Do forgive me—,”

A thread of apologies began between them both “It’s alright,” he answered in perfect English “I was quite absorbed myself. I did not hurt you, did I?”

“I could ask you that myself! Good heavens, your jacket is ruined! Here, let me…” He put his hand on hers and smiled reassuringly.

“I wanted to get rid of it eventually. I should’ve seen you—,”

As she collected her last book, when she saw the face of the poor man she trampled, recognition and shame came upon her “Oh my, I’m so sorry, Prince Vasili, I should’ve known—,”

He chuckled “Do not fret, I should’ve seen where I was going as well. I suppose we were both distracted.”

She shook her head “No, I should’ve seen where I was going, and now my latte is all over your surely expensive coat!”

He helped her up “Nothing a good rub won’t fix. Please, allow me to walk you to class and buy you a new latte. My treat.” He smiled, and my, what a beautiful smile that was.

“I can’t ask you that—,”

“I’m offering. Besides, I’m afraid my espresso is all over your beautiful dress too. My lady mother would be mortified if I maimed such a beauty. You are…? A beauty like yourself must have a name.” He extended his hand.

“Nerea. Nerea Rose.”

His grip was firm, yet gentle and warm, welcoming even. His eyes swept her before they too widened in recognition “Ah, I’ve heard about you! The American genius who has been travelling throughout Europe’s best universities. Your thesis on the advantages and abuses of AI was formidable. Truly a work of art. My siblings got tired of my gushing about your nuances and the way you expressed it. Not even professionals ten years ahead of you could’ve explained it as well and as richly as you.”

She blushed deeply and bit her lip “I’m glad someone appreciated it. I’m afraid my father didn’t understand much ‘technological mumbo jumbo’ and my sister couldn’t even finish it because the language was too complex.”

He smiled “Shame. It’s a true work of art. Do tell me, what brings you to Drakovia?”

“Well, since I’ve dipped my toes in technology and martial arts, I was thinking of getting a masters on Classical Languages: Latin, Greek, Ancient Egyptian, the works.”

Vasili looked at her, delighted “I am a humanist myself. Not many scientific minds appreciate the arts and humanities. Science may give us answers and make us advance as humanity, but it is art that nurtures the soul.”

Nerea smiled fondly “That’s what my mother used to say.”

Vasili frowned “’Used’?”

Nerea fidgeted with her fingers “She disappeared. Police assumed since she was a Romani—despite her ID clearly stating she was Andalusian—she just escaped with a lover, which she would never do.”

Vasili made a face “To hear the injustice in America is one thing, but that is too far.”

“Not to mention blatantly racist. But it was long before I could even have a conscience, so there isn’t much to do save do her proud, wherever she is.”

“You already have.”

She looked at Vasili, touched by his words, but before she could say something, the professor called “Ah, Miss Rose! Do come in, we have been waiting for you.”

“Your Highness—,”

“Please, just Vasili.”

“Very well, ‘just’ Vasili. I’ll see you around.”

During the small recess, as she walked around the campus, enjoying the small sandwich she made and the unusual sunny weather in the cold Drakkos, she spotted a little boy with gorgeous green eyes towards her. She smiled at him “Hello, sweetie! Are you lost?”

She noticed he held a bonbon, and made a gesture to give it to her. She chuckled “That’s sweet, darling, but I can’t. It’s yours.”

The boy insisted, his eyes making that face that made her melt. She sighed, defeated “All right, all right. I’ll take it. May I give you a thank you huggie?”

Wordlessly, he hugged her and she smiled, and a minute later, he took off to his bewildered mother. She gave her a smile. Just because this wasn’t the first time that a child smiled at her or even went as far to go to her didn’t mean it was strange. A good strange, but strange nevertheless.

“Nerea!” Juliana called.

She turned around and strid to the countess, who seemed to hold court with a few of her classmates. Many of them observed her curiously “What was all of that about?”

Nerea shrugged “I don’t know. It’s not the first time, but it’s still… odd.”

While Vasili did not have many friends, the ones he did were genuine and quite interesting. It was nice, hanging out with people who were as smart or nearly smart as her, not feeling for once like she once set the room quiet with a scientific joke.

As she observed her new group, her eyes stopped on Juliana, and as she talked and interacted, something in her body woke. For a moment, she lost her breath and one voice in her head told her that something terrible would happen to her. Then, it was gone.

When she opened her eyes, Vasili had steadied her and looked at her concerned “Are you alright, Nerea?”

“I… It’s nothing. Silly stuff of mine.”

“It didn’t seem like nothing.” He insisted.

“I just… I got a gut feeling that said that something terrible would happen to Juli. Stupid, right?” She chuckled, brushing it off.

They all looked at one another, obviously creeped out. She excused herself, going to the bathroom. After taking a few deep breaths, she washed her face, and that’s when she observed that Juliana had followed her.

She turned around, and observed that the countess observed her closely “How often do you get these gut feelings, Nerea?”

“Not very often. Only when a tragedy is bound to strike.”

Instead of looking at her like a madwoman, she leaned close, intrigued “Such as?”

“Before my mother disappeared or my Uncle Jimmy died, I got the same gut feeling. I suppose I also know when someone’s trouble.”

She nodded “And you got a feeling that I may be in trouble?”

She shrugged, “I suppose. I know it sounds ominous, but it’s yet to fail me.”

She placed a hand on her shoulder “I will keep it in mind. Thank you, Nerea. You’re a good girl.” 

As they came back, they had begun a debate about what prompted the child’s behavior. “…That was amazing! Children are a great judge of character. Has it always happened?”

“Since I turned sixteen, yes. I suppose I’ve always had a wide maternal side and connected well with children. Many stared at me when I’m out, for some reason.”

Vasili added to her surprise “That is a scientific proof that you are beautiful. I’m afraid I’m not children’s favorite prince.” He shrugged, “Trystan and Bas are.”

One of their friends clapped the prince’s shoulder, remarking that he was the group’s favorite by default. Nerea shyly said “Just because children don’t tend to look at you doesn’t mean that you aren’t handsome. It’s… what, one fact among many? I’ve seen gorgeous people who were awful to children.”

Vasili looked at her with interest before smiling “You have a point. You’ll fit well amongst us, Nerea.”

Christmas finally came around the corner, and Nerea had packed everything when she decided to look outside the window… to find it all covered in snow, even some cars! She turned on the news as the weather guy kept talking about how it’d be snowing like this throughout most of the winter, making it impossible to get out of the country. Her phone ringed, and of course, her flight had cancelled due to said weather. Sighing, she sat down and put her head in her palms, letting out a grunt of frustration.

Just then, Vasili called her. He rarely called, preferring text over call. She picked up, intrigued “Hello?”

“Nerea! I suppose you’re on the plane back to New York?”

“Nope. My flight got cancelled due to the weather, and I have nothing but yoghurt and ramen on the fridge. Why do you ask?”

He cleared his throat “Well, I was on the way home when the snow trapped my car, and your house is just above it. Perhaps I could… crash in there? Until they clear out the road, that is.”

She flushed. For months now, she had developed a complicated crush with Vasili, and the idea made her flustered “O-Of course! I’ll open the door for you. It’s—,”

“Portal 26, second floor, door 3B. I remember, Nerea.”

She smiled “Good. See you then. Hope you like cheap ramen.”

She hung up, looking at herself in the mirror, fixing her hair and spraying the special ‘Amor Amor’ perfume by Cacharel and putting on some lip oil before going to the kitchen, pretending to be preparing dinner.

The door closed behind her, and a snow-covered Vasili stepped into her view, his glasses foggy and covered in specks of snow, as well as his coat and boots. She beamed for a minute before giving him her usual friendly smile “Please, take off your shoes and coat! The heater is right there,” she pointed “and the guest room is next by mine. It’s not a palace, but it’s comfy. Can you tell me if there’s warm bedsheets there?”

Vasili obeyed the host, leaving the damp shoes by the door and hanging the coat and craned his head to the small but cozy guest room. He called out “All clear! Thank you, Nerea. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You’re my friend. I’m happy to help. Please, sit.”

It was then when she took off her eyes from his face and noticed the large bag. She raised her eyebrows “What is that?”

“Ah, well, Marguerite had asked for Thai takeout, but I suppose that is no longer an option…”

She smiled “I love Thai. Here, let me plate it.”

“May I help?”

“Sure! Cutlery is in there.”

They both plated the Thai food and went to her desk, which was a gateway to the kitchen, and chatted animatedly about what they had been looking forward these holidays. Soon, they exchanged holiday-themed childhood stories “…Poor Nina. Swallowing snow sounds unhygienic.”

Nerea laughed “Curiosity killed the cat indeed. Despite my warnings, she didn’t listen, and we had to hospitalize her. Ever since, she listened to me more often. Well, as often as an eleven-year-old could.

They chuckled “Your sister sounds like quite the character. You must miss her.”

A pang of sadness washed over her “Very much. I’m bummed I can’t see her now. It’s… my first Christmas outside the US.”

Compassion could be read all over Vasili’s face “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Is there any way I may be able to make it amenable while I’m here?”

She shrugged “It’ll be weird, to not cook an entire feast for the family. We always spent time with my father, sister and the Ginovesis. I’d make my special dish of huevos rotos, followed by migas and my stellar homemade turrón. I do have the ingredients here, but not an audience.”

Vasili gave her an amused look “What am I, Nerea, chopped liver? I’d be happy to be your audience.”

She shook her head “I can’t ask you that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

She smiled widely “All right. But you’re helping, mister! Number one rule of the Rose Christmas; you want to eat; you have to earn it!”

He teasingly made a military salute “Aye aye, Captain!”

For two hours, they cooked, an intimate synchrony between them that neither could explain as the food was made, a certain unaddressed intimacy between stolen glances, the occasional hand brush, and how each looked at the other’s body. Especially the lips.

At last, the food was made, and they dug in, and Vasili seemed to hold back a moan of delight when he tried the huevos rotos. “Mm. The richness of the egg, the meat and the softness of the egg yolk is simply divine, and the spices really give it a kick. You truly are a talent at everything you do.”

She blushed “Thank you. I was nervous that it wouldn’t be to your tastes…”

He chuckled “I may be a royal, but I am capable of appreciating the simple things in life. And this is too delicious to ignore because the ‘commoners’ eat it as well.”

Nerea smirked “It has been a while since we’ve considered royalty some sort of demigods.”

“Thankfully so.”

They clinked their glasses, Riojan wine sparkling red “To family.”

“And those close to your heart.”

Smiling wide, they drank and kept talking and exchanging tales “You’re telling me that Patryk dared Kaspar to put on the prime minister’s underwear and streak across the building in it? No offence, but gross.”

“Not as gross as mudpies. That poor guy.”

“Hey! In my defense, he cheated on me!”

Vasili looked at her intensely “A crime indeed. Such a shame that beauties like yourself don’t get appreciated. If you were mine—,” His eyes shoot wide, and he cleared his throat “Apologies. It seems like the wine made me overstep.”

Nerea must’ve been affected by the wine, for she surprised herself when she blurted out “If I were yours, what would you do?”

He took her hands in his, an intense look on his face making her gasp “I’d worship you day and night. I’d give you the world. Every other woman would cease to exist.”

“Vasili, that is—,”

The strong wind slamming open the window interrupted the moment. Bolting up, the both rushed towards the window, where both forced it closed and panted, the effort being visible, as well as the tension of the moment.

“Whew! I need another glass after that.”

“I’ve had enough alcohol. I could use the turrón, though.”

She let out a breath “Coming right up.”

The morning after, Nerea had overslept due to the many glasses she ended up drinking. She remembers Vasili taking her to her bed, taking off her make-up and pulling the covers so she wouldn’t be cold.

She woke up and, remembering she had a guest, quickly brushed her hair with her fingers and checked her breath. Smelled like wine, of course. Taking a mentos from her drawer, she looked for something cute yet discreet. Ignoring her headache, she lifted her head and tried to have a pleasant smile on her face.

Coming out of her bedroom, the sight before her gave her heart flutters: Vasili had his shirt half-open, his hair was messy, and he was making breakfast. It smelled delicious. He seemed to notice her presence and smiled widely “Nerea! Please, do sit. I’ve made the liberty to make, ah… what do you call it? Pankays?”

Nerea chuckled “Pancakes, and it smells divine.”

He gave her a wry smile “I’ve decided to give it a Drakovian twist. It’s not as good as yours, but I believe it is how it’s done.”

He gave her the plate, and their hands brushed again. He cleared his throat “Look, about last night, I didn’t want to overstep, but… I like you, Nerea. Very much. You draw my eye like no other, and of course, you don’t have to return my feelings, but—,”

“I do return them,” she interrupted.

His gaze lifted, what it seemed like hope “Truly?”

Armoring herself with valor, she struts towards him and gave him a small peck. For a moment, he was surprised, and next thing she knew, he was kissing her passionately, a throaty moan escaping him. Next, her hands were on his hair and shirt, completely forgetting about breakfast. She chuckled “I probably reek of alcohol.”

“I rather like the taste of cherries and wine. A very sophisticated mix,”

He lifted her up with surprising strength, and she chuckled as he kissed her neck, gently dropping her to her bed. He looked at her like he was a hungry man and she was his last meal on earth. Taking off his shirt, he climbed towards her and whispered “Do you want this?”

She nodded frantically “Yes,” her voice was hoarse with desire.

He smiled devilishly “It is a good thing we haven’t eaten yet. What am I about to do is not fit for a full stomach.”

Their lips locked again, and as the sun came up, only them and their rampant tension seemed to exist for a few hours.

As in that day, Nerea didn’t feel so alone in Drakovia.

[hummingbird24220]

Can I request reader making friendship bracelets for the strawhats but the bracelets are attached to their devil fruit power, I'm thinking it's a variation of 'red string of fate' except that when reader froms a strong bond with someone they become tied together allowing them to gain power through these ties (basically the power of friendship lol) the bracelets themselves aren't a part of the devil fruit just a cute thing reader does to help others visualize what they mean to them (as only reader can actually see the strings of fate)

Anyways the plot would be the strawhats reactions to the friendship bracelets (whether or not they know about the significance of them is up to you) this is mostly platonic strawhats but if you wanted to add romance that's cool too!

You don't have to write for all the strawhats if you don't want to but I definitely wanna see Robin's reaction to a friendship bracelet! (I think she'd really enjoy having a physical object to embody friendship)

(Sorry the ask was so long, love your writing! <3)

Glad you love my writing! Lovely to hear <3

I really liked this prompt - i love the string of fate stuff, makes me feel a bit gooey inside hehe

I could have kept going on this forevvverrrrrrrr i love the concept... spin off mini series anyone?!?!

Hope you enjoy reading!

Ties That Bind (Part 1)

One Piece x Fem!Reader

The kitchen was warm with the scent of Sanji’s post-lunch tea blend, a hint of citrus and mint lingering in the air. Everyone had gathered around the table like they usually did after a big meal, laughter still dying down from Luffy’s latest story about nearly punching a sky island seagull by accident.

You sat near the end of the table, a small box of thread, beads, and charm trinkets sitting beside your teacup. Nami had noticed it earlier and complimented the little braided bracelet you wore on your wrist—blue with a tiny compass bead. You smiled and muttered something vague, but now, with everyone calm and relatively in one place, you figured it was time to explain it properly.

You shifted in your seat, fiddling with a half-finished bracelet in your hands.

"Hey... can I tell you guys something?" you asked, your voice a little hesitant but clear.

Zoro tilted his head lazily, arms crossed. "If it's a confession about secretly being a government spy, say it now."

"I knew something was weird!" Usopp pointed dramatically.

"Shut up, Usopp," said Nami, elbowing him gently. "Go on, [Y/N]."

Luffy leaned forward like a kid about to hear a ghost story, chin propped up on his hands. "Yeah, yeah! Is it about your powers?"

You blinked, surprised. "...You knew?"

"Of course!" he beamed. "You smell like magic. Or maybe cinnamon. I dunno."

You laughed nervously but nodded. "Okay, yeah. So, my Devil Fruit is called the Saiken saiken no Mi—it means something like the Bond-Bond Fruit. It's… hard to explain, but basically, when I form a strong bond with someone, I can see it. Like... a thread tying us together."

Robin perked up with interest, lacing her fingers together. "A thread of fate, perhaps?"

You nodded. "Exactly. Only I can see them. Some are faint, some are bright, but the stronger the connection, the more... real they feel. And through them, I get stronger. I borrow strength from the people I'm tied to."

"So like the power of friendship?" Franky grinned. "That's super classic."

"Basically, yeah." You smiled sheepishly. "But I didn't want to freak anyone out by suddenly saying I see invisible strings attached to you all, so I started making these—" you held up the bracelet in your hand, bright orange with a tiny seashell charm, “—to kinda... represent the bonds I feel. For me, and maybe for you too. Something physical. Something nice."

Chopper gasped, eyes sparkling. "That's so cool! Wait—do I have one?"

You reached into the box and pulled out a little bracelet with white and pink beads, shaped like sakura petals. "Here."

Chopper practically exploded into a blushing mess as he took it, clutching it like it was the most sacred treasure in the Grand Line.

"You've been tying us together this whole time..." Brook said wistfully, his empty eye sockets looking soft. "Even without us knowing."

"You don’t have to wear them," you quickly added. "I just… wanted you all to know what you mean to me."

Nami’s bracelet was gold and teal with a tiny bell. Sanji’s was red and black, with a flame-shaped charm. Usopp’s had earthy tones and a little slingshot bead. Robin’s was elegant, deep violet and lace-like. Franky's had tiny gear charms. Brook’s was ivory and had musical notes.

You hesitated before pulling out the one meant for Zoro—green with a single white bead shaped like a sword—and Luffy’s: red, simple, but with a tiny anchor charm that seemed to glow with joy.

Zoro took his with a grunt of approval and a quiet, "Thanks." You swore his ears turned pink.

Sanji nearly cried over his. "You handmade this for me? Angel."

Robin turned the bracelet in her fingers thoughtfully. "You truly see something special in everyone, don’t you?"

You just smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

"Wait, wait!" Luffy waved his hands. "So if you get stronger from bonds, what happens if you get, like, super close with someone?"

You blinked, surprised by the question—and the slight glimmer of teasing in his grin.

"Well," you said, "the bond gets stronger, and so does the power. I guess, in theory… the closest bond of all would make me unstoppable."

"Like a best friend?" Usopp grinned.

"...Sure," you said, smiling softly.

The mood on the Sunny shifted, but in the best way. A kind of quiet awe had settled over the table as each member of the crew examined their bracelet like it was a rare treasure.

Robin wore hers immediately, slipping it onto her wrist with a graceful flick. “It’s strange,” she murmured. “I’ve spent a long time surrounded by people who only wanted to use me. And now, someone wants to... tie themselves to me.” She looked up and smiled warmly. “It’s rather beautiful.”

Brook held his up to the sunlight. “Yohohoho! If only I had skin to feel this against. Still, I will treasure it forever, just as I treasure our friendship. Though if you ever want to make me a matching anklet—”

“No,” Zoro muttered flatly.

Nami had looped hers around her wrist, then her ankle, then back to her wrist. “It’s fashionable. Very versatile. And handmade, which gives it value.” She glanced at you with an amused smirk. “Also, you’re incredibly sentimental, aren’t you?”

Sanji sighed like he’d just been proposed to. “You tied a thread to my heart, mon ange…”

Usopp had immediately put his on and now kept glancing down at it like it was going to disappear. “So wait, if I make my bond with you stronger, do you get stronger, or do I get stronger too? ‘Cause I’m just saying, team synergy is really underrated in combat situations—”

“HEY!” Luffy suddenly slammed his hands on the table, bracelet proudly on display. “If getting strong means making super strong bonds, then we gotta do that right now. Everyone! Bonding time!”

Chopper gasped. “Really?!”

Franky slammed his drink down. “Super bonding?! Count me in!”

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

“We should do a group activity,” Luffy declared with the confidence of a king. “Something that makes [Y/N] feel extra connected to us. Like… a trust fall. Or a big team nap.”

“That’s not how it works,” you laughed. “You can’t force connection, it just happens over time.”

“Time? We don’t have time! What if we fight someone really strong next week? You gotta be ready!”

Zoro leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You’re gonna give her emotional whiplash.”

But Luffy was already on his feet. “Let’s all tell [Y/N] a secret! That’ll make us close, right?”

“Captain,” Robin said lightly, “you’re rather enthusiastic about this.”

He beamed at you. “You’re part of my crew now. That means we’re all family. And if your powers run on family juice, then we need to juice it up!”

“…I’m gonna pretend that made sense,” you muttered, but your heart felt like it might burst.

Chopper jumped onto the table. “Okay, okay! I’ll go first! I pretend to be tough sometimes, but sometimes I cry when people call me a monster. But you never did, [Y/N]. That’s why I love you.”

Your eyes welled up immediately. “Chopper…”

“MY TURN,” Sanji shouted. “Sometimes I make extra portions ‘by accident’ just to see if you’ll pick mine over the others.”

“Obviously she does,” Zoro muttered. “Your curry’s hotter than a volcano’s butt.”

“I ENJOY COMPLIMENTS.”

Nami tapped her bracelet thoughtfully. “I hoard money because I’m still afraid. I trust you, though. You never once looked at me like I was a thief. Just… a navigator.”

Usopp cleared his throat. “I, uh… I used to make up stories about people like you. People who cared without needing a reason. Now one of them’s real.”

Your hand trembled as you clutched the box of threads to your chest. “You guys…”

Robin gave you a serene look. “You’re weaving more than bracelets, [Y/N]. You’re weaving a place for yourself. And we’re honored to be caught in your thread.”

Then all heads turned to Luffy.

He was sitting quietly now, looking down at his bracelet. And for once, his usual grin was softer. Quieter.

“My secret is…” he looked up, “...I already feel strongest when I know you guys are with me. That’s why I don’t need a power like yours. I already believe in it.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Chopper started panicking and tossing tissues at your face.

Luffy stood up, walked over, and plopped his hat on your head.

“So, bonding time worked?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

You sniffled, clutching the rim of his hat. “Yeah. Yeah, it really worked.”

--

The sky had begun to blush with streaks of orange and lavender, soft waves lapping gently at the Sunny's hull. The energy from Luffy’s “crew bonding time” had finally died down, with Franky tinkering below deck, Sanji prepping dinner, and Zoro pretending not to nap on the lawn. A peaceful calm had settled over the ship.

You sat on a lounge chair on the deck, a warm cup of tea cradled in your hands. Steam curled upward, swirling through the threads—those glowing, invisible strings that stretched between you and every corner of the Sunny.

Some shimmered like fresh starlight, others pulsed like gentle heartbeats. Each one was different—some chaotic, some serene—but they all led back to you. A net of connection. Of love, loyalty, and laughter. And though no one else could see them, they were as real to you as the sea itself.

You smiled softly.

“May I join you?” came a gentle voice.

You looked up to find Robin approaching, a book tucked under one arm, her bracelet glinting softly in the fading light. Deep violet thread, tiny rose-gold accents, and a small book charm nestled at its center.

“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room.

She sat beside you, graceful as ever, folding one leg over the other and setting her book in her lap. For a moment, she said nothing—just sipped her own tea, gazing out at the horizon.

Then her voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful. “I’ve received many gifts in my life. Few as... sincere as this.”

You glanced at her wrist, where the bracelet sat snugly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I don’t just like it,” she said. “I feel it. It’s strange. Even without seeing the threads, it feels like something is tied between us. Like it’s always been there, waiting.”

You stared into your cup for a long second, then spoke. “Sometimes… I wonder if people will misunderstand. That they’ll think I’m only getting close to others because it makes me stronger. That I’m just… using them.”

Robin turned toward you, eyes calm but sharp.

“That kind of power can’t be forced. And it certainly can’t be faked.”

You looked up.

“Your ability,” she said gently, “only works because you truly care. That’s what makes it powerful. And dangerous. Because if someone hurt one of us…” Her expression darkened for the briefest second. “I imagine you’d become unstoppable.”

You laughed softly, the sound half-embarrassed, half-relieved. “I guess I’d better stay on your good side.”

Robin smiled, but her gaze lingered on her bracelet. She ran her fingers over the little book charm, and for a brief moment, her lips trembled.

“I’ve spent most of my life being hunted,” she said. “Wanted. Feared. I never imagined someone would look at me and think, She matters enough to tie a thread to. But you did. And it means more than I know how to say.”

You nudged her shoulder gently, trying to keep things light. “Aw, Robin, don’t get all weepy on me now. You’re gonna make me cry, and then Chopper’s gonna panic again.”

She chuckled, brushing beneath one eye. “Too late.”

The sun dipped lower, gold spilling over the deck like spilled treasure. The threads shimmered in your mind’s eye—especially hers, now glowing warmer than ever.

“Thanks for sitting with me,” you murmured.

“Any time,” she said. “After all… we’re tied together now.”

-

Time aboard the Sunny had passed quick, and with each moment, your bonds grew stronger. You grew stronger.

-

Smoke curled through the dense trees of the island, the once-quiet jungle now a torn battlefield. Explosions echoed through the valley, and the Straw Hats were spread out, locked in skirmishes with a group of mercenaries hired to capture Devil Fruit users.

You stood at the center of it all—heart pounding, blood buzzing, a quiet hum in your ears like a rising crescendo.

This fight was different.

Not just because it was brutal—but because something inside you had clicked.

You could see the threads now. Not just shimmering faintly, but glowing. Pulsing. They surrounded you like a constellation, each one tied to someone you loved—and every single one sang with emotion.

Fear. Loyalty. Determination. Trust. Power.

A whip lashed toward you, charged with Haki. You dodged on instinct—not your own, but one you'd learned from watching Sanji every time he danced through the air.

You spun and dropped into a low sweep-kick, following through with an upward strike so fast your knuckles cracked the air—Luffy’s wild, rubbery rhythm channeled through your limbs, even without the stretch.

Your opponent staggered.

Then another merc came at you from behind, swinging a jagged blade—and you turned, blade in hand. Not your usual style. But the grip? The stance?

Zoro.

You moved with clean precision, a flash of green and steel in your mind, parrying the attack with force that sent vibrations up your arm. You didn’t hesitate—you let the bonds guide you.

Zoro’s quiet grit. Sanji’s graceful fire. Luffy’s reckless, joyful strength.

You weren’t mimicking them—you were fighting like someone who knew them inside and out. Someone shaped by them.

Across the battlefield, the others started to notice.

“Whoa—IS THAT [Y/N]?!” Usopp shouted from behind a crumbling stone wall.

“No way…” Chopper gasped, peeking over a boulder. “That move looked just like Sanji’s!”

Sanji froze mid-spin-kick, locking eyes with you across the field. “What the hell—did you just copy my move, sweetheart?!”

You grinned, lips bloody but eyes blazing. “Call it inspiration!”

“Oi!” Zoro barked, slicing through a trio of enemies. “I taught you that stance in a spar ONCE. ONCE!”

You shrugged, twirling the enemy’s weapon and chucking it back at another target with expert aim. “Guess it stuck.”

Robin, from above on a summoned flower-wing platform, watched with quiet awe. “She’s drawing strength from us… not like a parasite, but like a mirror.”

“She’s shining,” Nami whispered.

Luffy was the last to notice, mid-fight and laughing as he socked someone square in the jaw. Then his eyes landed on you—your form alive with golden threads dancing at your back like celestial ribbons.

His grin stretched wide.

“[Y/N]!!!” he called, ducking a punch and flinging an arm toward you. “YOU LOOK SO COOL RIGHT NOW!!!”

You burst out laughing, mid-spin, driving your heel into the ground and launching a mercenary several feet through the air.

One by one, the mercenaries began to retreat. You stood there panting, the threads still glowing—stronger than ever. And through them, you could feel it:

The bond. The trust. The undeniable connection.

Not just power borrowed—but power forged. Through shared meals. Inside jokes. Long nights and sea storms.

This strength wasn’t just yours. It was theirs, too.

As the battlefield quieted and the others regrouped, Luffy jogged up to you, hands on his hips.

“That was awesome,” he said, breathless with excitement. “You fought like all of us at once!”

You wiped blood from your lip and smiled. “Guess you guys are rubbing off on me.”

“Or maybe,” Robin said as she landed beside you, her bracelet faintly glowing, “you’ve finally started to see just how deeply we’re all tied together.”

You looked around at your crew—your family. The threads between you pulsed in soft, steady rhythm.

Yeah. You saw it. And now, they could, too.

-

The stars were beginning to peek through the darkened sky, the moon a silver coin casting gentle light across the deck. The crew was scattered around the Sunny in various states of exhaustion and satisfaction—wounds bandaged, bellies full, spirits high.

You sat at the bow, legs swinging over the edge, a mug of something warm cradled in your hands. The threads in your mind’s eye were quiet now, humming softly. Still glowing. Still strong.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about the battle—how instinctively the power had come, how natural it had felt to move with pieces of your friends inside you. It hadn’t been overwhelming. It had been comforting. Empowering.

You smiled faintly.

“Hey.”

You turned. Luffy stood behind you, hands in his pockets, his bracelet catching the moonlight. There was something different about his expression—still playful, still curious, but... softer. Quieter.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Sure.”

He stepped closer, then sat beside you, stretching his legs out. “Can I… see them?”

You blinked. “See what?”

He turned to you, eyes wide with that impossible brightness. “The threads. The ones that tie us all together.”

Your heart stilled.

No one had ever asked before. Not seriously. Not like this. You’d always assumed it was just your burden—your gift. Your curse. A secret window only you could peer through.

You stared down at your hand, at the glowing lines stretching outward like an unseen web. “I… I don’t know if I can make them visible to others.”

Luffy didn’t push. He just tilted his head. “Wanna try?”

You looked at him for a moment.

Then nodded.

You set your mug down, sat up straight, and closed your eyes.

It started as a pull in your chest—like tugging thread through a needle. Carefully, slowly, you began to unravel that perception, pushing it outward. Extending it beyond yourself. You reached into the core of your fruit’s power, channeling not just energy, but emotion. Every laugh, every fight, every quiet cup of tea and silly card game and comforting shoulder.

You felt your fingers tremble.

Then—

“…Whoa,” Luffy whispered.

You opened your eyes.

The deck glowed.

Not brightly, not like fire or lightning—but soft, gentle light. Golden threads stretched between you and every single one of your crewmates, weaving through the ship like constellations. Some threads pulsed bright and strong—like the one leading from you to Luffy, or to Chopper, or to Robin. Others had more subtle glows, warm and steady.

Each thread was unique—colors, textures, patterns. You could feel their personalities through them.

Zoro’s thread was taut and grounded, like woven steel. Sanji’s danced with warmth, flickering like firelight. Nami’s sparkled with bursts of gold, laced with stormy energy. Robin’s was velvet-smooth, deep violet with intricate knots. Luffy’s—brightest of all—was wild and fluid, chaotic and beautiful. A living firework.

The crew slowly gathered, one by one, drawn by the shift in the air.

“What is this…” Nami whispered, stepping closer to one of the floating threads.

“Are these… ours?” Chopper asked, reaching out with trembling hooves.

“They’re real,” Zoro muttered, watching one pulse with his breath.

You were sweating now, concentrating hard. It took everything to maintain this projection—but you wanted them to see it. You wanted them to know.

“This is what I see,” you said quietly. “Every day. Every bond. Every thread that ties me to you.”

Robin stood beside you, eyes shimmering. “It’s beautiful.”

Usopp sniffled. “Why does mine look like it’s got beads on it?”

“Because I know how much you love flair,” you teased, voice trembling.

Luffy’s eyes hadn’t left the threads. His face was a mix of awe and joy, the kind of pure reaction only he could pull off.

“They’re alive,” he said. “These bonds… they’re really alive.”

You nodded. “They are. You make them real. You all do.”

And then—Luffy grinned.

He stood, arms stretched out wide as if trying to catch the sky.

“I LOVE IT!!!”

The others laughed, their voices light with wonder. Even Zoro cracked a smirk. Sanji tried to light a cigarette with shaking hands and gave up entirely, just staring at the glowing thread between you.

You held the image a few seconds longer—long enough to burn it into their memories—before gently letting it fade, like smoke in the wind.

The deck returned to normal.

But something lingered.

A feeling. A warmth. A knowing.

You leaned back with a breathless smile.

Luffy looked down at you, still grinning. “You’re awesome.”

You met his eyes, soft and shining. “So are you.”

-

The morning sun spilled golden light across the deck, warming the wood and shimmering off the sea. The crew gathered around the table for breakfast—freshly made by Sanji, as always—still glowing in the afterglow of yesterday’s battle and the reveal.

The memory of golden threads dancing in the air hadn’t left them.

Neither had the awe.

“So,” Sanji said casually, setting down a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of you with a flourish, “I believe it’s only right to point out that [Y/N] used my fighting style in that battle.”

“Light on your feet. Beautiful form. Graceful kicks that could kill a sea king.” He spun with a wink. “Clearly, the power of our bond is unmatched.”

Zoro made a sound. A sound. Low, dismissive, impatient.

“Your fancy footwork was one thing,” he said through a mouthful of rice. “But the real strength came when she ended that merc with a full-on counterstrike. That was my technique.”

You raised a brow at your plate. Here we go.

Sanji bristled. “Counterstrike? She deflected a two-ton punch with a spinning heel kick. That’s my move.”

“Please,” Zoro scoffed. “She stood her ground and overpowered him. No spinning. Just raw strength. That was me.”

“She even moved like me,” Sanji snapped. “You couldn’t twirl to save your life.”

“Because I don’t need to twirl to win, curly-brow.”

“Want me to twirl you overboard—?!”

Nami sighed. “It’s too early for testosterone.”

Usopp munched toast, watching them with wide eyes. “This is weirdly flattering. They’re fighting over who has a better connection with [Y/N].”

“They’re fighting over whose bond is stronger,” Robin said lightly, sipping tea. “It’s oddly romantic.”

You sat back, sipping your own tea, amused beyond words.

But Sanji wasn’t done.

He turned from Zoro mid-argue, marched over to you, and—

Knelt. On one knee. Took your hand.

You blinked.

You flushed.

Your brain, traitorous and immediate: MARRIAGE?!

“[Y/N],” Sanji said with utmost sincerity, gazing up at you like you’d hung the stars yourself. “Out of all the bonds you hold… which one is the most powerful?”

The entire table went silent.

Zoro choked on his rice.

You stared, your face slowly going crimson. “I—um. That’s… I mean…”

He lifted your hand to his lips.

Your heart actually stopped.

You gave a slow, thoughtful hum, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Hmm… Sanji, Zoro… it’s honestly so close.”

Sanji’s smile widened like he was about to win.

But then—

You grinned.

Eyes gleaming.

You gripped his hand tighter, leaned in just slightly, and said with a soft, velvety voice:

“Of course… I could always strengthen the bond in… other ways.”

Sanji made a sound like someone had just pulled the pin on a very flustered grenade.

Then—

He died.

He dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut, flat on the deck with swirly eyes and a blissed-out smile.

Usopp dropped his toast. Chopper shrieked. Robin covered her mouth, amused. Luffy burst out laughing so hard he fell backward off the bench.

You threw your head back, laughing with your whole chest. “Oh my god, I didn’t think he’d actually pass out—”

Zoro rolled his eyes but was smirking. “Serves him right.”

As Sanji twitched on the floor, hearts floating from his head like steam, you picked up your tea again and sipped calmly.

“Guess that answers his question.”

-

The waves rocked the Sunny gently, a lullaby of the sea, as the last rays of the sun kissed the horizon in shades of peach and gold. Most of the crew had turned in early, worn out from the chaos of the past few days.

But you stayed on deck, sitting near the figurehead with your knees tucked up to your chest and a blanket around your shoulders. The breeze was cool, but the warmth in your chest kept you from feeling it.

You could see them again—the threads.

Still glowing.

Still alive.

They shimmered faintly in the dusk light, stretched like constellations across the deck and walls and sails. So many beautiful bonds. So many pieces of yourself that had once been broken, now tied to others.

You felt whole.

But one thread… One thread blazed like sunlight.

It wasn’t just bright. It wasn’t just strong. It radiated.

Wild and untamed. Joyful and fierce. The thread tied to Luffy.

You didn’t even have to look to feel him behind you.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You turned. He was barefoot, messy-haired as always, arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. He plopped down beside you, crisscross applesauce, and stared out at the sea with a relaxed smile.

“I knew you’d be up here,” he added, glancing at you. “You always look at the sky when you’re thinking.”

You smiled back. “I could say the same to you.”

He grinned wider, and for a long moment, you both just sat in comfortable silence.

The wind tugged at your hair. The sea whispered. And the thread between you glowed like firelight in your chest.

“Hey, Luffy,” you said finally. “Do you… remember when you first found me?”

He blinked, then nodded once, slow. “Yeah. You were in that weird old port town. Working for that rich jerk.”

You nodded, eyes distant. “More like owned. I didn’t even realize I was fading until you walked in, like a storm. You didn’t even hesitate. Just looked at me and said, ‘Wanna come with us?’”

Luffy’s smile softened. “Well, yeah. You looked like someone who needed the sky.”

Your throat tightened.

“You saved me, you know,” you whispered. “Not just from that place, but from… me. I used to think my powers only worked if I earned people’s love. Like I had to be useful. Like I had to deserve it.”

Luffy was quiet, watching your face.

“But you…” Your voice wavered. “You just… took me. Like I was already something precious. Like I didn’t have to earn anything.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Then he reached out—softly, gently—and tugged the edge of your blanket until you scooted closer. Your shoulder touched his.

“You are something precious,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s why you shine so much.”

You felt your chest tighten in the best way. That thread between you burned golden. Stronger than any other. Stronger than steel, stronger than fate.

“I used to think I needed someone to be my light,” you murmured. “But I think… maybe I just needed someone to let me shine.”

You looked at him.

And smiled.

“You’re the sun, Luffy. You just don’t know it.”

He laughed, a little awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah. You’re the one glowing all the time.”

You reached over and took his hand—warm and calloused and steady. The thread between you flared in your mind like a second heartbeat.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only because I’m standing in your light.”

For once, Luffy didn’t answer with words. He just grinned—really grinned—and leaned his forehead against yours, laughing under his breath like you’d told him a secret that made him happy.

And you laughed too. Because you’d never felt more seen. Or more safe.

Wrapped in his sunlight. Tied to something bigger than fate.

[fioredeciliego]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏

𝐖𝐂: 𝟓.𝟑𝐊

ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲, '𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔢

The sky hung heavy with the weight of dusk, streaks of crimson and violet bleeding into the horizon like spilled ink on silk. Beyond the castle walls, the world stretched vast and untamed, but within them—within the grandeur of polished marble and whispered promises—fate was being sealed with quiet certainty.

Seated across from each other in the gilded chamber, Queen Taeyeon and Queen Irene exchanged glances over the candlelit table, the flickering flames carving shadows across their faces. Between them, their wives—Tiffany and Seulgi—sat with softer expressions, their hands resting gently on their laps. The air smelled of aged parchment, spiced wine, and the quiet tension of kingdoms threading their futures together.

“The rivalry has lasted too long,” Taeyeon murmured, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her goblet. She was regal yet relaxed, her voice measured, like a ruler accustomed to commanding but weary of wielding her power unnecessarily. “Our ancestors built walls between us. We should be the ones to tear them down.”

Seulgi nodded, her gaze steady. “We’ve spent generations locked in this conflict, yet neither kingdom has truly won. A ceasefire is not enough; we need something lasting. Something binding.”

Tiffany exhaled slowly, her expression thoughtful as she reached for Taeyeon’s hand, grounding her in the moment. “A union.”

The word lingered, folding itself into the candlelight, into the fabric of the evening, into the fate of two yet-unaware souls.

Irene, quiet until now, finally spoke. “A marriage.”

She was calm, but there was an unspoken weight in her voice, the gravity of a mother setting the course of her child’s life with a single decree. Her fingers curled around the stem of her glass, knuckles paling as she swallowed the moment whole. “My daughter and yours.”

A silence followed, not of hesitation, but of consideration. It was not the first time such an idea had been proposed in the name of diplomacy, yet something about it felt different now. Perhaps because it wasn’t a contract signed in ink, but in the laughter and stubborn defiance of two little girls who did not yet understand what it meant to belong to history.

Taeyeon let out a breath, tilting her head slightly as she regarded Irene. “Minjeong and Y/N.”

The names tasted unfamiliar in this context, as though speaking them aloud was the first step in reshaping their meanings. Not just daughters. Not just princesses. Future. Destiny. A delicate thread weaving through time, connecting what had once been separate.

Seulgi leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Do you think they will hate us for this?”

A quiet chuckle left Tiffany’s lips. “Oh, undoubtedly.”

A moment of levity, but it did not dissolve the weight of the decision being made.

Irene’s fingers pressed together, her nails biting into her palm. “They will grow together. Learn from each other. And perhaps, one day, they will understand.”

Taeyeon’s lips curled slightly, though there was something unreadable in her expression. “Or they will burn everything to the ground in protest.”

Tiffany smiled at that, squeezing her hand. “Either way, they will be unforgettable.”

The candlelight flickered as though it, too, felt the weight of the conversation. A servant entered the chamber in silence, refilling goblets with deep red wine, the scent of crushed berries thick in the air. No one spoke. The gravity of the decision had settled upon them like a heavy cloak, and even the opulence of their surroundings could not lift it.

Seulgi broke the silence first, her voice measured, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper—concern, perhaps. “We are asking them to shoulder the burdens of generations past. Shouldn’t we at least give them the choice?”

Tiffany’s gaze softened, but her resolve did not waver. “Would you have chosen this life, Seulgi? If given the choice?”

Seulgi hesitated, lips parting as if to respond, but the words did not come immediately. Instead, she let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. “No. But I learned to accept it.”

“And perhaps they will too,” Taeyeon said, swirling the wine in her goblet. “Perhaps, in time, it will be more than duty. Perhaps it will be love.”

Irene glanced toward the high-arched windows, the glass reflecting the fire’s glow. “And if it isn’t?”

The question lingered between them, a specter of doubt threading its way through the certainty they had tried so hard to build. It was a risk. A gamble with their daughters’ futures as the stakes.

Tiffany, always the one to find light even in shadows, reached across the table, her hand resting lightly over Irene’s. “Then at least they will have each other.”

Outside, the wind howled against the stained-glass windows, as if bearing witness to the promise whispered between monarchs. A fate sealed not with love, not yet, but with expectation and duty.

And somewhere, in separate chambers of their respective castles, two little girls slept soundly, unaware that their names had just been bound together in a history far greater than themselves.

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

The grand hall was alive with the glow of chandeliers and the hum of whispered conversations, yet to Minjeong, it was suffocating. She tugged at the high collar of her formal tunic, the fabric stiff against her neck, the weight of expectation draped over her shoulders heavier than the cloak fastened with an ornate clasp at her chest.

A prince in everything but title and gender—that’s what they called her. And in moments like this, where she was paraded before foreign nobles, where the sharp gaze of her mother, Queen Taeyeon, reminded her of the importance of appearances, Minjeong wondered if she had ever been given a choice in the matter. At seven years old, she had already mastered the art of keeping her thoughts hidden behind a carefully schooled expression.

Her boots echoed against the polished marble as she took a calculated step forward, standing by her parents’ side. The hall was filled with courtiers and envoys, yet her gaze landed on only one figure—small, delicate, adorned in soft pastels that glowed under the candlelight.

Princess Y/N. She was five years old, two years younger than Minjeong, yet she carried herself with a poise beyond her years.

She was impossibly still, hands clasped in front of her, every bit the image of a perfect princess. But as Minjeong took a step closer, she caught the slight downturn of Y/N’s lips, the quiet defiance in the way her chin tilted up ever so slightly.

Minjeong almost smirked. Almost.

Instead, she extended a hand. “Princess.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to her before she hesitantly placed her small hand in Minjeong’s. The contrast was striking—Minjeong’s fingers, calloused from swordplay, against Y/N’s, untouched by battle. Yet there was a firmness in Y/N’s grip that surprised her.

“You don’t look very happy,” Minjeong remarked, voice low enough that only Y/N could hear.

Y/N’s eyes snapped to hers, sharp and assessing. “Neither do you.”

Minjeong let out a short breath of laughter, stepping back slightly but not letting go of her hand just yet. “Then perhaps we are already more alike than we thought.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but before she could speak, Queen Irene’s voice rang out, addressing the gathered nobles. “Tonight marks the beginning of an era of peace, bound by the union of our daughters.”

Minjeong felt Y/N tense beside her. And though she didn’t know why, her grip tightened, just slightly, as if to anchor them both.

The future had been decided for them long before they even knew what it meant. And for the first time, Minjeong wondered if fate had been kind or if it had simply played a cruel joke.

The evening stretched long, filled with ceremonial toasts and hushed conversations behind gilded fans. Minjeong sat at the head table, her plate barely touched, while her eyes flickered towards Y/N, who was seated beside her. She noticed how Y/N pushed her food around, her small fingers curling around the silver fork with reluctant grace.

Minjeong nudged her plate forward slightly. “You’re supposed to eat it, not play with it.”

Y/N shot her a glare before stabbing a small piece of fruit with her fork. “Why do you act like that?”

Minjeong tilted her head. “Like what?”

Y/N frowned, cheeks puffing slightly. “Like a boy.”

Minjeong blinked, then let out a short breath of amusement. “I don’t act like a boy. I act like me.”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “You’re weird.”

Minjeong leaned in slightly, smirking. “And you’re spoiled.”

Y/N gasped, scandalized, but before she could retaliate, an older noblewoman leaned down to look at them both, her jewelry clinking as she moved. “Such a lovely pair,” she cooed. “You two are the future of our kingdoms. A perfect match.”

Minjeong forced a polite smile. Y/N, on the other hand, merely blinked, offering no words in return.

The noblewoman’s smile faltered before she straightened. “Well, I am sure you two will learn to adore each other in time.”

Minjeong watched as Y/N’s fingers curled into the silk of her dress, her knuckles paling.

“Are you all right?” Minjeong asked after the woman left.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to her lap. “I don’t want to adore you just because they tell me to.”

Minjeong tilted her head, intrigued by the quiet resistance in her words. “Then don’t.”

Y/N finally looked at her, a trace of surprise in her expression. “What?”

Minjeong leaned in just slightly, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to adore me. And I don’t have to adore you. Let them think whatever they want.”

For the first time that night, Y/N’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, but something close. “You’re still weird.”

Minjeong smirked, leaning back. “And you’re still spoiled.”

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

The moon had risen high above the castle, casting a pale glow over the sprawling courtyards and endless stone corridors. The grand hall had long since emptied, save for a few lingering servants clearing away remnants of the evening’s feast. Somewhere in the west wing, music still played faintly—distant and dreamlike—but here, tucked away near the royal chambers, it was quieter.

Minjeong had managed to slip away from the watchful eyes of the guards and the persistent clutches of the nobles who wanted to fawn over the ‘handsome little prince.’ She didn’t want their attention, nor their praise. She wanted freedom.

And, apparently, so did Y/N.

She spotted the younger princess sitting near the base of a large window, her small frame framed by the moonlight. Y/N’s elaborate dress pooled around her in soft waves of silk and lace, but her posture was anything but composed. Her arms were crossed, her brows furrowed, and her tiny slippered foot tapped impatiently against the marble floor.

Minjeong approached with an easy confidence, hands slipping into the pockets of her tailored tunic. "You look upset, princess. Did one of the noble ladies call you adorable again?"

Y/N’s head snapped up, her glare sharp as a blade. "Go away."

Minjeong grinned. "That’s no way to speak to your future spouse."

Y/N huffed and turned her gaze back to the window. "You’re annoying."

Minjeong plopped down beside her, ignoring the princess’s exaggerated sigh. "You keep saying that, but I’m starting to think you don’t actually mean it."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of conversation from the other side of the castle. Y/N’s hands fidgeted with the lace of her sleeves before she finally muttered, "They keep telling me I have to marry you. That I have to spend my whole life with you."

Minjeong watched her closely. "And you don’t like that?"

Y/N turned to face her, eyes filled with something too complex for a five-year-old to fully understand—something tangled between frustration and uncertainty. "You act like a boy. You’re loud and stubborn and you don’t care about rules."

Minjeong smirked. "And?"

Y/N’s scowl deepened. "And I don’t like it."

Minjeong chuckled, leaning back against the stone wall. "Then I guess you’re stuck with me anyway."

Y/N groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. "I wish they’d picked someone else."

Minjeong merely shrugged. "I think they picked me because I’m the only one who won’t let you boss me around."

Y/N peeked at her from behind her fingers. "That’s exactly why it’s terrible."

Minjeong laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the empty hallway. "Don’t worry, princess. You don’t have to like me. You just have to survive me."

Y/N groaned again, but this time, Minjeong caught the small, reluctant twitch at the corner of her lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant music and the faint sounds of servants moving about. The castle at night felt different—less grand, less intimidating. It was almost peaceful.

Y/N finally broke the silence. "I don’t want to spend my whole life doing what they tell me to."

Minjeong tilted her head, studying her. "Then don’t."

Y/N frowned. "That’s easy for you to say. You do whatever you want."

Minjeong smirked, leaning back on her hands. "And what if I do? You could too, if you stopped worrying so much about rules."

Y/N let out a small sigh, playing with the folds of her dress. "I just… I don’t know what I want. I just know I don’t want this."

Minjeong softened slightly. "Well, we have time to figure that out."

Y/N gave her a sideways glance, hesitant but curious. "Do you really think so?"

Minjeong nodded. "Yeah. Who knows? Maybe by the time we’re older, you’ll actually like me."

Y/N wrinkled her nose. "Unlikely."

Minjeong laughed. "We’ll see."

Y/N, despite herself, smiled just a little. "Maybe."

And for now, that was enough.

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

The castle gardens were vast, a maze of neatly trimmed hedges and fountains that sparkled under the early morning sun. It was one of Y/N’s favorite places, a rare escape from the weight of expectations. Here, she could pretend she wasn’t bound to duty, to marriage, to the ever-watchful eyes of the court. But today, the tranquility was short-lived.

Minjeong stood across from her, arms crossed over her chest, an infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re just mad because I beat you."

Y/N scowled, clutching the hem of her dress tightly. "You cheated."

"I didn’t cheat. I just run faster than you." Minjeong tilted her head, clearly enjoying Y/N’s frustration. "Not my fault you wear those ridiculous shoes."

Y/N gasped, eyes narrowing. "They are not ridiculous! They’re made for a princess."

Minjeong snickered. "Yeah, a very slow princess."

That was it. Y/N stomped her foot, cheeks burning as she huffed. "You’re insufferable! I don’t know why they want me to marry you."

Minjeong grinned, shrugging. "Maybe they think you’ll make me more refined. I doubt it, though."

Y/N turned on her heel, determined to ignore her for the rest of the day. But as she stalked off, Minjeong’s playful nature got the better of her. She reached down, spotting something lurking near the fountain. A large, many-legged creature—a spider, its dark form lurking against the stone. Minjeong’s lips curled mischievously.

She knew Y/N hated bugs.

"Princess," Minjeong called sweetly.

Y/N barely turned her head before Minjeong held out the spider, its legs twitching in the air. "For you."

The scream that followed could be heard from the castle towers.

Y/N stumbled back, tripping over the hem of her dress and landing unceremoniously on the grass. Her eyes were wide, horrified, as she stared at the creature Minjeong still held. "N-No! Get it away!"

Minjeong laughed, holding the spider closer. "Oh, come on, princess. It’s just a tiny little thing. See? It won’t hurt you."

Y/N whimpered, scrambling backward, her breaths coming faster. "Minjeong! I said get it away!"

Minjeong, still grinning, wiggled the spider closer. "What’s wrong? It likes you. Maybe you should keep it as a pet."

Y/N let out a sob, hands flying up to shield her face. "Stop! Please!"

That was when Minjeong’s amusement finally wavered.

The genuine terror in Y/N’s voice sent an uncomfortable jolt through her. She blinked, stepping back, her fingers twitching. "Hey… I was just messing around. It’s just a—"

"I don’t care!" Y/N yelled, her voice breaking. "Just throw it away!"

Minjeong quickly tossed the spider into the grass, suddenly feeling much less triumphant. "It’s gone, okay? It’s gone."

But Y/N wasn’t looking at her. She was curled up, knees drawn to her chest, her breaths erratic, eyes squeezed shut. Her small frame trembled violently.

Minjeong swallowed, guilt settling heavily in her chest. She crouched beside Y/N hesitantly. "I… I didn’t know you were that scared."

Y/N sniffled, refusing to look at her. "Of course you didn’t. You don’t care. You just think everything is a joke."

Minjeong frowned. "That’s not true. I—"

"Go away," Y/N mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She stood up and ran away from Minjeong.

Minjeong hesitated, fingers clenching against her tunic, but didn’t run after her. For the first time, she didn’t have a clever response, didn’t have a teasing remark to brush off the moment. She had never seen Y/N like this.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered to no one.

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

The grand ballroom was alive with the shimmer of golden chandeliers, the polished marble reflecting the glow of candlelight and the swirl of flowing silks. Lords and ladies danced in practiced circles, their laughter mingling with the soft melody of the musicians stationed at the far end of the hall. Tonight was another of the many royal gatherings that Y/N had long since grown tired of—another night of polite smiles, measured steps, and suffocating expectations.

But tonight, she had a plan.

Minjeong stood near the center of the room, dressed in the finest formal tunic, a deep navy trimmed with gold embroidery. She looked proud, confident, the perfect image of her parents’ expectations. Y/N watched from the sidelines, eyes narrowing as she recalled the humiliation Minjeong had caused her in the garden days before. That moment—her fear, her tears—had lingered in her mind, and if Minjeong thought she could get away with it unscathed, she was sorely mistaken.

She moved carefully, weaving through the gathered guests, her expression composed, her steps deliberate. In her hand, hidden beneath the folds of her gown, was a goblet filled with the richest red wine. She had taken it from a passing servant’s tray, and now it rested precariously in her grasp, waiting for the perfect moment.

Minjeong, oblivious to her impending doom, was speaking with a group of noblemen. She laughed at something one of them said, a bright, carefree sound that only made Y/N more determined. The memory of Minjeong’s smirk, the way she had dangled that awful spider in front of her, replayed in her mind.

Y/N took a deep breath, then feigned a misstep.

The goblet tilted. The deep red liquid surged forward.

A gasp rippled through the ballroom as the wine splashed across Minjeong’s pristine tunic, staining the fine fabric in an instant. The laughter died, replaced by a heavy silence as all eyes turned toward the scene.

Minjeong blinked, looking down at the spreading crimson stain. It took her a moment to register what had happened, to piece together the innocent, wide-eyed look Y/N gave her and the telltale twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips.

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Oh no! I’m so clumsy.”

Minjeong’s eye twitched.

Y/N stepped back, hands clasped before her in an almost angelic display of innocence. “I really must be more careful. My sincerest apologies, Minjeong. That must be terribly uncomfortable.”

Minjeong exhaled through her nose, jaw tightening as she forced a smile. “It’s nothing,” she said evenly, though her grip on her sleeves suggested otherwise. “Accidents happen.”

Y/N could practically see the gears turning in Minjeong’s head, the restrained fury hidden behind her ever-composed demeanor. This was war, and Y/N had just declared the next battle.

The room was still watching, whispers starting to weave between the nobles, waiting to see how Minjeong would react. But Minjeong, ever the master of self-control, simply smiled through gritted teeth and took a step closer.

“Very clumsy indeed,” Minjeong murmured, low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Let’s hope you don’t make a habit of it.”

Y/N tilted her head, the picture of innocence. “Oh, of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Minjeong’s lips curled at the edges, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Good.”

The tension between them crackled like fire, unnoticed by the rest of the gathering as the music resumed and the nobles resumed their conversations. But between them, the battle lines had been drawn, and Y/N knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

It started with a single throw.

Minjeong, having grown bored of sitting through another tedious lesson on royal etiquette, picked up a plush velvet pillow and hurled it straight at Y/N’s head.

The impact was immediate—Y/N wobbled, her tiny frame nearly toppling over as the pillow knocked her delicate crown askew.

“Minjeong!” Y/N shrieked, scrambling to grab a pillow of her own. “You absolute menace!”

Minjeong smirked. “You look like a baby bird.”

That was it. Y/N launched herself at her, pillow in hand. What followed was a whirlwind of flying cushions, laughter, and very undignified battle cries.

The door burst open, revealing a very unimpressed Queen Taeyeon and Queen Irene.

Taeyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Again?”

Irene, arms crossed, watched as Y/N attempted to tackle Minjeong—who was holding Y/N back simply by placing a hand on her forehead.

“Minjeong, stop holding her like that,” Irene said, exasperated.

Minjeong grinned. “But it’s so easy.”

“Let me go, you overgrown tree!” Y/N yelled, flailing.

Seulgi, sipping tea nearby, hummed. “You know, this is actually quite entertaining.”

Tiffany grinned. “I’m starting to think they’ll either get married on their own accord or they’ll kill r each other.”

✠✠✠✠✠✠✠

The royal kitchens were off-limits. That much had been made clear.

And yet, here they were—two tiny figures crouched behind a long wooden counter, their eyes locked onto a golden tray of freshly baked cookies.

Minjeong glanced at Y/N. “You cause a distraction, I grab the cookies.”

Y/N looked up at her. “Why do I have to be the distraction?”

“Because you’re small and cute. People believe you.”

Y/N huffed. “Fine. But if I get caught, I’m telling them it was your idea.”

She marched out into the open, putting on her best “helpless princess” expression. “Oh dear, I seem to have lost my way…”

As the kitchen staff turned to her in concern, Minjeong moved like a shadow, swiping the tray with precision—until her taller-than-average self smacked her head on a hanging pan.

CLANG.

The entire kitchen froze.

Minjeong groaned, gripping her forehead. Y/N, eyes wide, slowly pointed at her. “It was all her idea.”

Taeyeon, having just entered, sighed. “Minjeong. Again?”

Minjeong, still holding the tray of cookies, grinned up at her mother. “Want one?”

Taeyeon sighed, rubbing her temples. “Tiffany, your daughter is a bad influence.”

Tiffany smirked. “I think she’s a genius.”

✠✠✠✠✠✠✠

Minjeong always teased Y/N about her shoes. “How do you run in those?” she’d say, watching Y/N struggle to keep up with her longer strides.

So, Y/N devised a plan.

The next morning, Minjeong woke up to find her boots had mysteriously vanished. In their place were delicate, lace-trimmed, pearl-studded slippers.

“Y/N,” Minjeong called, her voice dangerously calm. “Where. Are. My. Boots?”

Y/N, seated elegantly at breakfast, sipped her juice. “Oh dear, did they go missing? What a shame.”

Minjeong glared at her before stomping into the dining hall—wearing the dainty slippers.

Tiffany choked on her tea.

Taeyeon cleared her throat. “You look… lovely, dear.”

Seulgi, barely containing her laughter, nodded. “Very regal.”

Irene simply turned to Y/N. “You’re grounded.”

Y/N pouted. “But she deserved it!”

Minjeong smirked. “This means war.”

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

The sun hung high above the castle courtyard, casting a warm glow over the stone paths and neatly trimmed hedges. It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. Instead, it had turned into yet another royal catastrophe.

Minjeong and Y/N sat on opposite ends of a wooden bench, arms crossed, expressions set in deep scowls. Their dresses were slightly disheveled from their earlier scuffle—Minjeong’s tunic had traces of grass stains, and Y/N’s carefully arranged hair was now slightly askew. Their parents stood in front of them, unimpressed.

"Enough," Taeyeon said, her voice carrying the finality of a queen who had run out of patience. "You two will spend the afternoon together, and you will not fight."

"But she started it!" Y/N and Minjeong said in unison, pointing accusing fingers at each other.

Irene exhaled sharply. "It doesn’t matter who started it. What matters is that you two need to learn how to get along."

Seulgi, standing beside her, smirked. "Or at least tolerate each other without trying to start a war."

Tiffany clapped her hands together. "So, here’s what’s going to happen. You are both going to spend time together—just the two of you. No guards, no attendants. Just an afternoon of peaceful bonding."

Minjeong groaned. "I’d rather wrestle a bear."

Y/N huffed. "I’d rather be kidnapped."

"Careful what you wish for," Seulgi muttered under her breath.

With no further arguments allowed, their parents left them alone in the courtyard, watching from a distance as their children sat in stubborn silence.

Minutes passed. Then more minutes. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, Minjeong sighed dramatically and leaned back against the bench. "Well? Say something."

Y/N scoffed. "Why should I? I have nothing to say to you."

Minjeong rolled her eyes. "Fine. Then I’ll talk." She tilted her head back, staring at the sky. "I bet you’ve never climbed a tree before."

Y/N frowned. "Why would I climb a tree? That’s ridiculous."

"It’s not ridiculous. It’s fun," Minjeong said, stretching her arms. "But you probably don’t know anything about fun, do you, princess?"

Y/N’s eye twitched. "I know plenty about fun."

"Oh really?" Minjeong smirked. "Prove it."

Before Y/N could protest, Minjeong hopped off the bench and ran toward the large oak tree standing tall at the edge of the courtyard. She grabbed the lowest branch and hoisted herself up with practiced ease.

Y/N remained seated, watching with mild disinterest. "You look ridiculous."

Minjeong grinned down at her. "And you look scared."

Y/N bristled. "I am not scared."

"Then climb up here."

Y/N hesitated. She had never actually climbed a tree before, and the thought of getting her dress caught on the branches or falling in front of Minjeong made her stomach twist. But the smug look on Minjeong’s face was unbearable.

With a huff, she marched toward the tree and grabbed onto the lowest branch. Minjeong watched with interest as Y/N struggled, her arms too short, her shoes slipping against the bark.

"Need help?" Minjeong offered, grinning.

Y/N glared up at her. "I don’t need your help."

After several frustrating attempts—and Minjeong laughing at every failed one—Y/N finally managed to get herself onto the first branch. She clung to it tightly, eyes wide as she realized how high up she felt.

"Not so bad, right?" Minjeong teased, sitting comfortably on a higher branch.

"Shut up," Y/N muttered, gripping the tree trunk.

For a moment, they sat there in silence, the breeze rustling through the leaves. Minjeong looked down at Y/N, her smirk softening. "You know… You’re not that bad when you’re not whining."

Y/N scoffed but didn’t snap back immediately. Instead, she looked out at the castle grounds, the view surprisingly nice from up here.

"Maybe this isn’t the worst afternoon ever," she admitted quietly.

Minjeong grinned. "See? Told you."

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

The sun had long since set, leaving the castle halls illuminated only by the soft glow of torches flickering against the stone walls. The air was cooler now, carrying the distant hum of the wind through the open windows. The once lively energy of the palace had quieted, save for the occasional murmur of servants finishing their evening duties.

Minjeong hadn’t meant to be wandering the halls so late, but she couldn’t sleep. Her argument with Y/N earlier had replayed in her mind too many times, each insult and sharp word echoing louder than the last. They had fought before—countless times, really. But tonight, it had been different.

She hadn’t expected Y/N to cry.

Minjeong stopped near one of the grand staircases, drawn to the sound of muffled sniffles coming from a secluded alcove. Carefully, she peeked around the stone column, and there she was—Y/N, curled up on a cushioned bench, her small frame hunched as she wiped at her cheeks.

Minjeong frowned. Y/N never cried, not since the spider incident. She always yelled, pouted, stomped her feet, but she never cried. Seeing her like this… It made an uncomfortable twist in Minjeong’s chest.

She hesitated before stepping forward. "Hey."

Y/N stiffened at the sound of her voice, quickly turning her head away. "Go away."

Minjeong didn’t move. She leaned against the column instead, arms crossed, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted at the sight of Y/N’s red-rimmed eyes. "You know, if you want me to leave, you should at least yell at me properly."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, refusing to look at her. "I don’t feel like yelling."

Minjeong shifted her weight. "Why?" The question came out before she could stop herself.

Y/N sniffled, pressing her sleeve to her face. "Because it won’t change anything."

Minjeong frowned. "Change what?"

Y/N hesitated before whispering, "That I don’t want to be stuck with you forever."

Minjeong’s jaw clenched. She had heard Y/N say things like that before, but this time, it didn’t feel like an insult—it sounded like something heavier, something she truly believed. And for some reason, Minjeong hated hearing it.

She looked away, suddenly feeling restless. "Well, I don’t want to be stuck with you either."

Y/N let out a dry laugh, though it lacked any real amusement. "Then I guess we both lose."

Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. Minjeong had no idea what to say, no idea why this moment felt different from all their other fights. All she knew was that she didn’t like seeing Y/N like this. She didn’t like the tears, the quiet resignation in her voice. It didn’t suit her.

With an awkward sigh, Minjeong reached into her pocket, pulling out a small handkerchief—embroidered with her family’s crest. She hesitated only a second before holding it out to Y/N.

"Here."

Y/N blinked at it, then at Minjeong. "What’s that for?"

Minjeong rolled her eyes. "You’re crying, idiot."

Y/N glared at her, but it was weaker than usual. Still, after a pause, she reached out and took the handkerchief, gripping it tightly in her small hands.

Minjeong cleared her throat, shifting on her feet. "I… uh, I’ll let you be now."

She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Y/N spoke. "Minjeong?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

Y/N was looking down at the handkerchief in her lap, her fingers brushing over the embroidery. She swallowed before whispering, "Thanks."

Minjeong didn’t know why her heart skipped a beat. And she really didn’t like that it did.

☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ; 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles

A/N: The original this sorta ties too: Original One Shot

>>Masterpost

Shovel Talks

Constantine swore up a storm of course only mentally. It wasn't like he was going to voice any of his thoughts right now. Not when he was faced with the good damn Ghost King. All he wanted was to summon one of his contracted demons to gather some information and what did he get the fucking Ghost King.

"Trench coat! We meet again. You worked on your manners, I hope?"

"Of course your majesty." Well he didn't but he avoided the freaking bats like crazy.

"Well I gotta thank you. Well you and my In-Law that's busy and asked me to substitute for your call since we meet and before and so on." The Ghost King casually waved his hand in a dismissive manner before looking around with his eyes sparkling in recognition and it sent a shudder down Constantine's back. "You are giving me the perfect opportunity."

Did… did the Ghost King just pull out a green glowing sword from a fucking portal and why did he have that glint in his eyes? Constantine paled. Why did this have to happen to him?

"If you will excuse me for a moment. I need to look for a Kryptonian real quick. I will deal with your problem right after. Promise."

With that the Ghost King phased through the floor apparently in search of Superman who just happened to be in the watchtower today. Fuck. Constantine run out of the room in mild panic and pushed whoever was on communication aside as he dialed for the bats. The moment someone on their end pick up he didn't bother to explain anything and just shouted for one of them to get their fucking ass here as fast as possible or superman was going to be history!

Okay that might also have sent the people witnessing his panic into chaos but this was a fucking emergency.

It was only minutes later that Batman did indeed arrived together with Nightwing and Red Robin with the Zeta-Tube at the watchtower to bear witness to Superman getting cornered by the Ghost King with Constantine bound by echo-bindings for apparently having annoyed the Ghost King with his pleading to spare the Kryptonian.

"Now I am sure I don't have to repeat myself but, IF you ever hurt Baby Bat a fate way worse than the Soul Shredder and the Nightmare Realm will be the least of your problems. The last guy that hurt my family is still in there and I will gladly make you permanently join him."

A cough resounded and Danny turned his head, a bright smile on his face as he spotted his little nephew and two of the little babies.

"Baby Bat, Baby Menace and Baby Stalker! I will be done in a little bit!"

"Ghost Ki-"

"Uncle Danny."

Batman let out a suffering sigh as Nightwing and Red Robin snickered.

"Uncle Danny. Why are you threatening Superman?"

"Because Jazz forbade me to use the Soul Shredder on humans but Superman is not human so I am allowed to use it on him."

"Uncle Danny, why do you want to use the 'Soul Shredder'" -as a joke Nightwing used air quotes- "on the him in the first place?"

"Shovel talk."

Batman chocked and Red Robin spluttered as Nightwing had a hard time suppressing a laugh. Constantine and Superman gapped at the Ghost King.

"You… are threading him for shovel talk purposes? What even is the nightmare realm?"

"A place you don't want to be in. Very traumatic and perfect to externally punish anyone that hurts my family in any regard as long as I am allowed to dump them there."

There was an added barely hearable grumble of "I would have sent the Joker and Ra's in there long ago if Clockwork weren't such a stick in the mud about keeping the timeline straight and their roles and bla bla bla."

Red Robin did a double take. Did the Ghost King just admit that he would have liked to sent their rogues into a place that was most likely hell? Wait didn't he mention sending someone in there permanently earlier.

No one noticed Superman slowly inching away from the blade still pointed at him while the Ghost King's attention wasn't on him. Well the bats noticed but didn't react to it, deeming it safer for the Super.

"Uh you said you dumped someone permanently in there?" Red Robin tried to keep the attention on them.

"Well yea." The Ghost King casually shrugged, adjusting the blade so Superman could no longer inch away from him. "I looked away from the Ice Mirrors for a week and someone dared to hurt Moma Bat. Of course I was enraged and snatched that guy off the street to permanently drop him in there."

There was a beat of heavy silence. Batman under his cowl bluescreened especially with how casually Danny just admitted at having snatched up his parents murderer to punish the man. Well that explained why he never found the culprit.

"Now If you excuse me little Babies I am gonna finish this talk with the Kryptonian and make sure he knows what will happen if he hurts Baby Bat."

With this the Ghost King turned back to the rapidly paling Superman with a feral grin. The Birds sweat dropped as Batman was still not mentally present, his mind still working through the information.

"Think I would be able to borrow that sword?" Red Robin suddenly asked as Nightwing eyed Batman worringly. "He only said that Great Grandma forbade him to use it on humans. He never said we couldn't."

"Don't let Robin or Hood hear that." Nightwing said, even if he wanted to borrow it himself too. With B mentally still checked out he had to act as the responsible one. That wouldn't stop him from asking their Ghost Uncle later if he could borrow the sword anyway.

[sapphicseasapphire]

Living in a world as populated as it is by mortals, it is rare to come across a being who is not so. Rarer still is it to come across one who is both mortal and immortal- those who toe the line between Life and Death.

Reapers are abundant but undetected, doing their work for the spirits while hidden in a mortal body. They are bound to no Gods, serving only the lost souls of the land and answering only to the inevitability of Life and Death.

Hylian legends depict Death as a woman clothed in flowing white fabric, serene and tranquil, everlasting and inescapable. Some fear her, some hate her. Most bunch her up with the Goddesses.

She is not a Goddess.

She is… a promise.

And just as they’ve cast Death’s image onto a Goddess that doesn’t exist, they attribute Life’s gifts to Hylia, singing her praise. Hylia, the little sister of the Golden Three, tasked with protecting this world, is not Life.

Life has existed here for far longer than Hylia has. Some say that she was created with the breath of Farore, others speculate that she came before.

People think that Death exists in Life’s shadow, that they are entirely separate from one another. One brings joy, the other brings pain. This is, wholly and entirely, untrue.

For Life and Death wear matching white cloth, and they stand so closely together that they are indistinguishable from each other. One cannot exist without the other. They are… the same, in nature. They are patient. They take nothing more than what they are given; they give nothing more than what they take. It is balanced, in that way.

Everyone must face them, one way or another. Even Gods cannot deny the push and pull of Life and Death.

Although, there are occasions in which they can be swayed. In the case of a young boy who’d met his end during his quest, so beloved by the spirits, Death chose to wait. She did not claim his soul, not yet. She heeded the pleas of the spirits and allowed him to continue on- to finish what he had started. But this was not without a cost.

The boy- only twelve years old- was named Link, and he was not unique. Those who are favored by the spirits and succumb to illness or injury are often granted these second chances. They may never remember that they had died, but they are forever changed.

These people are known as Reapers. They recruited by Death to guide lost spirits to the afterlife. They have heartbeats, they breathe, they require sustenance. Reapers are mortal, normal people.

Until it becomes time to do the reaping, that is.

In order for a Reaper to find and guide spirits, they must use spirit magic. Spirit magic is as potent and variable as any other type of magic, except its power source is distinct: it is fueled by the power of an untethered soul. It comes naturally to Reapers, except in order to use it, they must free their soul.

Reapers have the ability to separate their souls from their bodies, becoming nothing more than a spirit. Once freed, they are immediately pulled to the nearest lost soul and it is their duty to aid them in their journey to the next life. The pull of a Poe is just as potent as the pull of a portal: demanding and unavoidable. Reapers feel it physically.

When their soul is outside of their body, a Reaper will appear comatose to the waking world. Unresponsive and unmoving, almost like they’re asleep. Their hearts still beat, their lungs still breathe. They still live but there’s nothing there. If their body is moved during this time, the Reaper will have a difficult time returning to it. Their survival will depend on whether or not they can find their body.

Link is one of many Reapers that serve under Death, and he is not unhappy. He sees the Threads of Fate that bind all things- the red ones of the living, the black ones of the dead, and the white ones of the immortal- and he takes pride in helping wayward Poes follow these threads home. He… has experience guiding souls, after all.

Link doesn’t remember when exactly he died, but he knows it had to have happened during his quest to rid the Demon King from Princess Zelda’s body. With her spirit by his side, he felt unstoppable. And his new job isn’t much different. He doesn’t feel sadness when he guides a Poe to their next adventure. No, he feels… at peace.

Death is extremely welcoming to him, for she knows that in time, he will return to her. Just as all things do. Link- our Spirit- admires Death. He serves under her but he is not opposed to it. He’s wholly dedicated to his job. He takes pride in it. It doesn’t interfere with his waking life too much and even as he cast on another adventure, it’s not too much to manage. Death treats him well, and he’d never denounce her.

When he’s reaping, he’s making a difference. He’s helping people. Is that not what a hero should strive for?

He’s… home.

Some notes!

• This kind of turned into a post about Reapers specifically and less about Spirit, but ehhh lore is lore

• Spirit and Wind are BEST BUDS. I’ve been referring to them as “the twins” in my head this whole time

• Spirit’s pupils glow when he is looking at the Threads of Fate. He can’t see them all the time, just when he really focuses on them, or else he’d be blinded by all the string everywhere!

• More on that- he doesn’t only see the threads that bind people to each other. He also sees the threads that bind people to objects. Everything has a memory, everything has a story.

• Something about Spirit’s presence is so inherently peaceful. He speaks quietly and clearly, he moves like a whisp, he smiles so gently. He can 100% be a little goblin in his own right, but he can be incredibly comforting when he wants to be.

• He cannot swim. Wind is APPALLED.

• He knows that Time is a God right away. His string is white. He doesn’t tell anyone, though, because it’s not his place. Everyone has their secrets, everyone should have the right to reveal themselves at their own pace.

• He and Wild sure do have a relationship. Yep. Just. The Reaper- the one who is tasked with guiding lost souls. And the literal spirit, actual ghost. Uh huh. They. Um. Yeah, they definitely have a dynamic. (This dynamic is the reason that I was convinced to add Spirit to my Cryptid Chain)

• A spirit is any soul without a body. A Poe specifically refers to a spirit that is lost. Hopeless. One who needs help. Wild is not a Poe. (Kind of)

• Spirit is like Time in the sense that he has not fully ascended, and won’t until his mortal lifespan is over. When he dies, he will continue to be a Reaper, but much more powerful as he will not be bound to a body. But that’s far, far off. He’s twelve, I won’t be cruel to him

• hehehehe

• He’s so incredibly good at playing the pan flute.

• Also this kid’s hilarious without even trying. (Spirit Tracks is the funniest Zelda game of all time)

• NERD. HE LOVES HIS TRAINS. HE IS IN PHYSICAL PAIN THAT NONE OF THE OTHER LINKS EVEN KNOW WHAT A TRAIN IS!!! SEND HELP!!! TELL HIM ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE TRAINS!!! HE MISSES HIS TRAIN!!!

• He has the unique ability to talk to Poes and Spirits directly, so he’s gonna be the best bet when it comes to translating for Wild. If Wild will let him come close, that is.

• “Don’t disturb me guys, I have some reaping to do,” he says, and then takes a nap. The others can’t tell.

• Or, mid battle, the decides they could really use a blast of spirit magic to aid them. So he just. Separates his soul from his body, as one does. Falls limply to the ground as the monsters they were fighting just suddenly all die. What just happened???

• Do monsters have souls? Do they become Poes? Thoughts that keep Spirit up at night.

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 4------Part 5

Eris vanserra x rhysand sister reader!

Summary: with the mating bond between her and Eris revealed. Rhysand isn't too happy and asks her to use it to get information out of Eris. After being invited to a ball in the Autumn Court she isn't too sure if she wants to do that anymore.

A/n: sorry for the delay guys, this chapter is a bit short coz it was finals week and I did not get any sleep at all. Hopefully you guys enjoy this one!

Warnings: slight romance, mentions of blood! other than that nothing else.

A few weeks later, the tension in the Night Court was palpable. Rhysand received a note from Beron, summoning him to the Autumn Court. Rhysand, ever wary, gathered his inner circle for the meeting. They all knew Beron rarely summoned anyone without ulterior motives, and his intentions were never benign.

When they arrived at the Autumn Court, Beron was waiting for them, his eyes glittering with malicious delight. Eris stood by his father's side, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and resignation.

"Rhysand," Beron greeted, his tone deceptively cordial. "I'm glad you could make it. We have much to discuss."

Rhysand's gaze was cold as he responded, "Get to the point, Beron. Why did you summon us?"

Beron's smile widened, a predator baring its teeth. "It's come to my attention that there is a bond of great significance between our courts." He glanced meaningfully at Eris, then back at you. "Eris, it seems, has found his mate."

Gasps echoed around the room. Rhysand's face contorted with fury, and Mor looked utterly betrayed, her eyes flicking between you and Eris with disbelief and hurt.

You shook your head vehemently, your heart pounding in your chest. "I haven't felt anything," you insisted, your voice trembling with the effort to remain calm. But just as the words left your mouth, your eyes locked with Eris's, and a powerful surge of energy rippled through you.

In that instant, the mating bond snapped into place, the golden thread tying your fates together. It was like a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, an undeniable connection that sent shivers down your spine. You felt it as a magnetic pull, an unseen force binding you to Eris with an intensity you couldn't ignore.

As the bond solidified, a strange, tingling sensation spread across your scalp. You reached up, instinctively, to touch your hair, your fingers brushing through the dark strands. Before your eyes, the color began to shift, the deep brown transforming into a vibrant, fiery red that matched Eris's own. The change was mesmerizing and terrifying, each strand shimmering as it took on the new hue.

Gasps echoed around the room, and the entire inner circle watched in stunned disbelief. Rhysand's face contorted with fury, and Mor looked utterly betrayed, her eyes flicking between you and Eris with disbelief and hurt.

"What is happening?" Mor whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Your heart raced as the realization settled over you. The bond was real, and it was changing you in ways you couldn't have imagined. Your hair, now the same shade as Eris's, was a visible mark of the connection between you, one that couldn't be hidden or denied.

Rhysand's fury was palpable, his power crackling in the air around him. "No," he growled, stepping protectively in front of you. "I won't allow this. She isn't going anywhere."

Beron's smile was triumphant. "You have no choice, Rhysand. According to the laws of Prythian, she must be given the opportunity to meet with her mate. She must visit the Autumn Court every week."

Rhysand clenched his fists, his anger barely contained. "I don't care about your laws, Beron. I won't let you use her for your schemes."

Beron raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. "This isn't about you, Rhysand. This is about the bond between them. Denying it will only cause them both pain."

You could feel the truth of Beron's words in the depth of your soul, the bond tugging at you, demanding to be acknowledged. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you knew you couldn't ignore it.

Mor stepped forward, her face pale with a mix of betrayal and concern. "Do you want this?" she asked softly, her eyes searching yours for any sign of your true feelings.

Torn between loyalty to your family and the undeniable pull of the bond, you looked at Eris, his red hair and amber eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and fear. "I don't know," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Beron seized the moment, his tone authoritative. "Then it's settled. According to the ancient laws, she will visit the Autumn Court every week to explore the bond. It's only fair."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with defiance, but he knew the laws were binding. With a heavy heart, he turned to you, his gaze softening with concern. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "I have to," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Beron smirked, victorious. "Very well. We expect her next week."

As you left the Autumn Court, the reality of your situation settled over you. The bond with Eris was undeniable, but the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty. You couldn't help but wonder what the future held and how you would navigate the treacherous waters of both your courts and your heart.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Returning to the Night Court after Beron's revelation felt like walking into a storm. You had barely stepped into the House of Wind when Rhysand summoned the entire inner circle to the grand hall. The tension was palpable as everyone gathered, their expressions a mix of shock, concern, and anger.

Rhysand paced back and forth, his fury barely contained. "I can't believe this. Eris, of all people."

Feyre stood by his side, trying to calm him. "Rhys, please. Getting angry won't change what's happened. We need to think this through."

You sat on the edge of a plush armchair, your heart pounding. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but it was Rhysand's intense gaze that made you feel the most vulnerable.

"He’s dangerous," Rhysand continued, his voice rising. "And now he’s bound to my sister by the mating bond."

Mor, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly stood up. "Rhys, this isn’t her fault. The mating bond isn’t something anyone can control."

You looked up, surprised by her support. Mor had every reason to be furious, but there was a calm determination in her eyes.

"Mor, how can you defend this?" Rhysand's voice was incredulous.

"Because I know what it feels like to be judged for something out of your control," Mor replied firmly. "And because she’s our family. We need to support her."

Nesta, sitting next to Cassian, nodded in agreement. "Mor's right. This isn’t her fault. Blaming her won’t help."

Cassian crossed his arms, his expression serious. "We need to focus on what’s important. Protecting her and figuring out what Beron might do next."

Azriel, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Eris might be her mate, but that doesn’t mean we trust him. We need to stay vigilant."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the supportive faces around you. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I never wanted this."

Feyre came over and knelt beside you, taking your hands in hers. "We know. And we’re here for you, no matter what."

Rhysand let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I don’t want what happened to Mor to happen to you."

You nodded, understanding his fear. "I don’t either. But I can’t deny what’s happening. The bond is real."

Rhysand's expression softened slightly, the anger giving way to concern. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

Feyre squeezed your hands. "Yes, we will. And no matter what, you’re not alone in this."

Mor stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We’ll get through this. All of us."

Nesta gave you a small, reassuring smile. "And we’ll make sure you’re safe."

As the tension in the room began to ease, you felt a flicker of hope. Rhysand seemed extremely uncomfortable with the events of tonight and you hoped he would calm down before anything else was to happen with the Autumn Court

Later, in the privacy of your room, you examined your reflection in the mirror, the fiery red of your hair a constant reminder of the bond. You knew from ancient lore that this transformation was not just cosmetic. Your hair would remain this vivid shade until the bond was consummated, until you mated with Eris.

The thought sent a shiver through you. The bond demanded recognition, and until it was fully acknowledged, you were marked by it. The vibrant red was a symbol of the passion and desire that tied you to Eris, an intimate and undeniable connection that changed everything.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

The invitation to the ball at the Autumn Court arrived unexpectedly, a beautifully crafted scroll sealed with Beron's crest. Rhysand gathered the inner circle to discuss it, his expression a mix of caution and curiosity.

“We’ve been invited to a ball,” Rhysand announced, holding up the scroll. “Beron wants to finalize the peace treaty.”

Cassian scoffed. “Sounds like a trap.”

“We have to be careful,” Feyre agreed, her eyes scanning the faces around the table.

You sat quietly, your heart pounding at the thought of returning to the Autumn Court. Since the revelation of the mating bond, your interactions with Eris had been fraught with tension and confusion. Rhysand noticed your silence and gave you a concerned look.

“You’ll be coming with us,” Rhysand said, his tone brooking no argument. “But stay close. I don’t trust Beron or his sons.”

The night of the ball arrived, and you found yourself dressed in a stunning silver gown that shimmered with every movement. The fabric was delicate and flowing, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and vulnerable. The plunging neckline and open back revealed just enough to be tantalizing without being overtly scandalous, and a high slit ran up one leg, adding an edge of daring to the ensemble.

The grand ballroom of Beron’s palace was a spectacle of opulence and decadence, every inch dripping with gold and crystal. The air was thick with the scent of exotic flowers and rich perfumes, the music a haunting melody that echoed through the high, vaulted ceilings. You entered the ballroom, feeling the eyes of the Autumn Court upon you, your silver gown flowing around you like liquid crystals. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the deep neckline and intricate lace detailing drawing more than a few appreciative gazes. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the anxiety of being in such a hostile environment and the anticipation of seeing him.

As the Night Court entourage entered the grand ballroom of the Autumn Court, you were struck by the opulence and the flickering warmth of the firelight reflecting off the gilded decorations. Nobles and courtiers filled the room, their eyes turning towards your group with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Eris was there, standing near the center of the room, his golden eyes locking onto you the moment you entered. He wore a tailored suit in rich autumnal colors, looking every bit the princely heir of the Autumn Court. The bond between you hummed with an almost tangible electricity, drawing you towards him despite your better judgment.

Rhysand kept a protective hand on your shoulder, his gaze wary as he scanned the room. But Eris approached with a confidence that belied the tension between the two courts.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

Rhysand hesitated, his protective instincts warring with the necessity of diplomacy. After a moment, he nodded curtly, releasing you. “Be careful,” he whispered.

You placed your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. He led you onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way for you. The music swelled, a dark and haunting waltz, and you found yourself swept up in his embrace, the world around you blurring as you moved together.

Eris’s hand rested possessively on your lower back, his touch scorching through the fabric of your gown. "You look stunning tonight, red is a good look on you" he murmured, referring to your hair, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten who you are."

His words were a reminder of the delicate dance you were both engaged in, a game of power and seduction that neither of you could afford to lose. Yet, beneath the barbs and the tension, there was something else—a pull that neither of you could deny.

"Nor I, you," you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Eris twirled you expertly, your gown flaring out around you like a flame, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The twirl brought you back into his arms, your bodies aligning perfectly, his breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to spin with you, the music and the crowd blurring into a distant echo.

His hand slid lower on your back, his fingers pressing into the curve of your spine with possessive heat. "You think you can manipulate me with this bond?" Eris whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You think you can use it to get what you want?"

You met his gaze, your eyes burning with defiance. "And what if I am?" you challenged, your voice a seductive whisper.

The air around you crackled with tension, the music and the crowd fading into the background. Eris's grip on you tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of anger and desire. "Tell me you don’t feel this," he growled, his voice a raw, dangerous edge.

Your heart raced, the bond between you thrumming with intensity. "I feel it," you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you."

Eris’s eyes blazed with a fierce, possessive light. "Then we are at an impasse," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Because I won’t let you go."

He spun you again, your skirts flaring out, and when he pulled you back, his hand was firmer, more insistent. Your bodies moved as one, each step a seductive dance of defiance and desire. His fingers brushed the bare skin of your back through the cutout of your gown, sending shivers down your spine. The heat from his touch was both thrilling and maddening, his presence consuming.

As the music slowed, Eris’s hand slid down further, his fingers trailing down your bare legs. Your breath hitched, the intimate touch sending a wave of heat through your body. He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement and something darker. "Look who's excited," he murmured, his voice a teasing caress.

The dance was a battle of wills, each step a carefully calculated move. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of his body overwhelming. Your breaths mingled as you moved, the friction between you a tantalizing promise of what could be. The way he held you, the way his body pressed against yours, it felt as if you were the only two people in the room.

"You’re playing with fire," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending another shiver down your spine.

"Maybe I like the heat," you replied, your voice a soft challenge.

His eyes flared with something dark and dangerous, a predatory gleam that made your pulse quicken. The music reached a crescendo, and with a final, dizzying spin, the dance ended, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

Eris's eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge that left you reeling. "Remember, little bird," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "This game is far from over."

He released you then, stepping back and leaving you standing alone on the dance floor, the heat of his touch lingering on your skin. The crowd around you resumed their revelry, oblivious to the battle that had just played out in their midst. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

As you made your way off the dance floor, you couldn't help but glance back at Eris. He stood at the edge of the crowd, his fiery gaze still locked onto you, a promise of more to come. The game between you was far from over, and you knew that the next move was yours.

-----------------------♧-----------------------------------

Later after the dance, you looked around the ballroom for eris but didn't seem to find him. You found yourself wandering off into Autumn Court, looking for him.

A few hours earlier

The day had come for you to go the Autumn Court for the ball , a place that had become a maze of emotions and conflicts. The knowledge of your newly discovered mating bond with Eris had created a whirlwind within the inner circle. The tension was palpable, and the uncertainty weighed heavily on everyone. As you prepared to leave, Rhysand summoned you to his office.

You stood before your brother, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. Feyre was by his side, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions.

"You know why you need to go tonight," Rhysand said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. "But there's more to this visit than just the mating bond."

You frowned, sensing the gravity of his words. "What do you mean?"

Rhysand exchanged a look with Feyre before continuing. "We need Eris to sign the peace treaty. It's crucial for the stability between our courts."

Your heart sank. Convincing Eris of anything, let alone a peace treaty, seemed an insurmountable task given your current situation.

Rhysand seemed to notice and asked with hesitation in his voice "you don't plan on accepting this bond do you sister?"

Your eyes met with his and you firmly said "no, brother I would never betray you or our family that way"

"good, that's what I like to hear" rhysand gave you a warm smile

"And you think I can do this?" you asked, your feet shifting and trying to change the subject, doubt creeping into your voice.

Rhysand's gaze softened. "You are stronger than you think. And you have a unique connection with him now. Use it to our advantage."

Feyre stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "We believe in you. Just remember, you have us backing you every step of the way."

You nodded, drawing strength from their unwavering support. "I'll do my best"

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

The grand ball in the Autumn Court had been a dazzling affair, with the glittering lights and the melodious music setting an enchanting atmosphere. You had danced with Eris, feeling the intensity of the mating bond thrumming between you, even as Rhysand had watched with a guarded expression.

Later that night, after the festivities had wound down, you found yourself wandering through the quiet halls of the Autumn Court palace, seeking out Eris. You knew he was in his study, and despite the tension between you, you needed to speak with him about this, about the treaty, about what was going to happen next.

The heavy oak doors to his study were slightly ajar, and you pushed them open cautiously. Eris was there, sitting behind his desk, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. His face was hard and unreadable as he glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You stepped into the room, feeling the weight of his anger and the pull of the mating bond between you. "Eris, we need to talk," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you.

He scoffed, his gaze darkening. "Talk? About what? The mating bond?" He rose from his chair, his movements tense and controlled. "I've made myself clear. This... thing between us changes nothing. You need to stay away from me."

His words stung, but you refused to back down. "Eris you came to me, you started this at the unification ceremony, when i came to visit Lucien, right now at the ball" you gripped your hair strands, frustrated.

He chuckled "Don't you understand? We are all pawns in his game, all that I did was just a game, it didn't mean anything i can promise you that, you didn't seriously think all my gestures meant anything? Did you now?" he responded ruthlessly making your heart swell with sadness and anger

"Eris, I know you're afraid of your father, but I won't let him control us," you said firmly, taking a step closer to him.

He laughed bitterly, a harsh sound that cut through the air. "You have no idea what my father is capable of," he retorted, his voice low and dangerous. ''He wants your wings, and before you ask, no I did not tell him he practically pried his way into my head"

You gasped upon the revelation of the news that you just heard. Your mind raced with thoughts of what Beron wanted to do with your wings and that made you shudder.

The sexual tension between you was palpable, a volatile mix of desire and frustration. You could feel the heat radiating from him, drawing you in even as he pushed you away.

"Eris, I can protect myself," you insisted, your voice softening as you reached out to touch his arm.

He jerked away from your touch, his eyes flashing with a mixture of longing and fear. "Don't," he warned, his voice hoarse. "You don't understand what you're dealing with."

You stood your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. "Then help me understand," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion.

For a moment, he looked at you with something akin to despair in his eyes. Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your arms firmly. The intensity of his gaze bore into yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"You need to leave," he said roughly, his voice low and urgent. "Before it's too late."

But you couldn't tear your gaze away from his, couldn't deny the pull of the bond that bound you together. "I can't," you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

With that he holds your face, you feel the cold rings on his fingers digging into your skin. He towers over you, his height making you feel small and vulnerable pushing you against the harsh surface of the wall. His elbow leans against the wall, trapping you between his strong body and the unyielding surface behind you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel the heat of his breath against your face, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating.

For a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his lips. Your heart races, your breath catching in your throat as anticipation builds between the two of you. But just as quickly as he moved in, he pulls back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You have no idea what you're getting into, we can never be anything more, we are just a game" he whispers, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing with a mix of fear and something else you can't quite name. His proximity is maddening, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You know you should push him away, to resist the pull he has over you, but your body betrays you, frozen under his gaze.

"I... I need to go," you stammer, trying to break free from his grip.

Eris's smirk widens, his eyes darkening with amusement. "Run away if you must," he says softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "But you'll be back. They always come back."

With that, he releases you and steps back, leaving you breathless and confused, your heart pounding in her chest. You gather yourself and hurry out of the room, Eris's taunting words echoing in your mind.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @sunny1616 @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd

[fabled-lady-twilla]

Shiga in 99.9% of the scenes I've written for my ShigaDeku Soulmate AU fic, lmao!

He's like… ugh I don't wanna sit through any boring PLF meetings plotting to take control of all Japan, I just wanna grab my green-haired boyfriend/reluctant hostage and run away to my room. Heh.

Anyways! Under the keep reading link below is an excerpt from a flirty, slightly spicy scene between Izu and Shiga that happens later on in my fic. It's where they're past the chaotic, angry, violent 'enemies to lovers' stage of the story and Shiga has just discovered that he can touch/manipulate what I'm calling a 'soul-cord' in my AU, which is basically a spiritual link that connects two soulmate's souls together and helps them find each other.

The idea of a soul-cord comes from the concept of the 'red string of fate' and is basically a floating metaphysical cord/thread/string (not 100% sure what I'm calling it yet) woven from strands of each soulmate partner's soul, binding their destinies together and ensuring that always meet. By default, a soul-cord wraps around each soulmate partner's pinky finger, but this can be changed.

The thing is, with the way I integrated the soulmates trope into this AU along with Quirks, only soulmate partners with Quirks can see/interact with their soul-cords. By the time the main story line comes around, Izu has lost OFA and Shiga still has his Quirk (Decay). So, only Shiga can see/mess around with their soul-cord but both of them can feel it. Which is why Izuku is like, what the actual fuck is going on right now in the scene below lmfao. 🤣

Also, do you think the name 'soul-cord' is a good name for this? Or would 'soul-thread', 'soul-string', 'soul-braid', 'soul-weave', etc. be a more fitting name for it? I wanna know your opinion!

Pretty pretty pretty please let me know what you thought of this scene and if you'd like to see any more ShigaDeku excerpts! If you'd like to be added to the tag list for the story, please like, share, comment, or send me a PM. Thank you for reading! ❤️❤️❤️

Keep reading for 900+ words of flirty, slightly horny ShigaDeku interaction below:

“Is there a problem?” Izuku said, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared up at the other man. Tomura’s attention had been honed in on him since breakfast and Izuku had finally had enough of it. "You’ve been staring at me all morning. If you’ve got something to say to me, either say it or leave me alone."

Tomura leered down at Izuku through a half-lidded gaze, crimson eyes glinting in the soft orange lights of the hallway. Paying explicitly close attention to the way their silvery blue soul-cord looped around Izuku's pale throat over and over and over again, all nice, tight, and pretty. Right where Tomura wanted it. Right where it looked the best: wrapped around Izuku’s pale, freckled neck.

Right where it belongs, Tomura thought possessively, his cock twitching in agreement in his pants. The same it had been doing all morning long, causing him to have to constantly readjust his slacks.

The longer Tomura ogled him, the more Izuku’s frown deepened, and Tomura noticed the younger man’s glare taking on a heatedness that caused the green in his eyes to darken, contrasting beautifully against the silvery blue soul-cord wrapped around his neck.

Oh, yes. Tomura could definitely get used to this sight.

"Just admiring my handiwork," Tomura finally said, offering a wolfish grin with far too many teeth.

"Handiwork? What handiwork?" Izuku asked, brow furrowing with suspicion.

Tomura's only answer was a slight quirk of his lips.

Suddenly, Tomura thought of a wonderful idea, and his grin took on such a quality of wickedness that Izuku was immediately put on guard.

It was never a good sign when Tomura smiled like that. If that manic grin was directed at someone else, it meant someone was about to harassed, maimed, or something much worse. If it was directed at Izuku, it meant Tomura was up to something no good and Izuku, willingly or not, was about to find out exactly what that ‘something’ was.

Tomura backed away from Izuku, watching as the distance between them increased the floating length of their soul-cord. Tomura grasped the slack and gently looped it around his hand multiple times until it was almost completely pulled taut.

“What are you doing?” Izuku looked at Tomura like he’d lost his mind, what with his waving his hand around in the air like a lunatic. “Looks like you’ve finally gone completely insan—"

Without warning, Tomura roughly yanked their soul-cord towards himself, like he was yanking a dog backwards on a leash. Izuku found himself being jerked forward by an unseen force, tripping over his own two feet and nearly tumbling to the floor were it not for him crashing straight into Tomura's chest.

Izuku’s eyes widened in shock. Not only from what had just occurred but from the feeling of something warm, ticklish, and wispy stroking the length of his neck as Tomura made strange hand movements in the air.

Bewildered, Izuku ran his fingers over his Adam’s apple and around the back of his neck, where the warming sensations were the strongest. He grabbed at nothing, could feel nothing, only adding to his growing confusion at what the actual hell was going on. Did Shigaraki get a new Quirk?

Tomura hummed, seemingly delighted. He made another quick hand motion, fingers circling around nothing and making to grab at something in the air before pulling it closer.

Izuku felt it again, even stronger than before. A thick, deliciously warm pressure around his neck, not quite cutting off his air supply but toying the line of doing so. He couldn’t stop the flush from entering his cheeks at their sudden, close proximity, nor the shiver that ran down his spine at the feeling of something so snug and… protective closing in around such a vital part of his body.

Izuku bit his bottom lip, chewing at worryingly.

Tomura ate up the sight of Izuku’s nervous arousal with a quiet sort of hunger. With their soul-cord still looped around his hand, Tomura softly, ever so slightly, pulled it just a bit tighter.

Izuku gasped, pretty green eyes growing to such a comically large degree that Tomura could not help but let out a mean laugh at his expense, entertained by the younger man’s reactions.

“You!” Izuku hissed accusingly, snapping out of his stupor and narrowing his eyes into angry little slits, “What the hell did you do to me!?”

Tomura grin grew so wide and predatory it nearly split his face in half. “Maybe if you’re a good boy today and don’t get into any trouble, I’ll come by your room later tonight and tell you all about it.”

At Izuku’s utterly scandalized face, Tomura smirked. He swiftly untangled their soul-cord from his hand right as Izuku forcibly pushed against his chest, propelling himself away and out of Tomura’s grasp.

Izuku grunted from the force of his back thudding against the wall of the hallway. He splayed his hands against it and quickly but cautiously inched himself along the wall away from Tomura, mouth slightly parted as he stared at the other man with an expression that was so distrustful Tomura couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement, his canines popping out past his cracked lips.

“D-don’t you ever do that to me again!” Izuku managed to stutter out, the words coming out way less confident and threatening than he wanted them to sound.

But god, this unhinged man-child was quite literally driving him up the wall and Izuku wanted no part of anything to do with Shigaraki Tomura.

Izuku took a couple of cautious steps backwards, regarding Tomura like he would a rabid wild animal he didn’t want to turn his back to lest it pounce on him.

Tomura just stared back, crimson eyes gazing at him with an intensity that frightened Izuku more than anything else that had just transpired between them.

Izuku noped out and made a break for it.

Swiftly pivoting on his heel and rounding the corner, Izuku fast-walked down to the end of the hallway towards his room, Tomura’s raspy laughter reverberating off the walls and following him every step of the way until he slammed the door shut.

[rosesnink]

Red Threads of Fate (That Bind Us Together): Moth To A Flame, Part One

Author's Notes

Hello hello! After months of silence, here I am, once again, with moar Nerea shenanigans! I've been buried in exams and essays and texts, but now that I have some time to spare, can I interest you in actual Bas x Nerea content? Enjoy!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes I may make

No beta, we die like men and all that jazz

Spanish words and phrases will be translated at the bottom!

If you wish to be tagged in my COP pieces, let me know!

Likes are nice, but reblogs keeps a post going!

Summary: Nerea faces the aftermath of her messy breakup with Vasili

Word Count: 2.5k

Category: Messy breakup, sister love, recovering from a breakup, ex's brother

CW: Mild violence, adult themes, mentions of death and sociopathy, reader's discretion is advised

Pairing: F!OC (Nerea Rose) x Sebastyan Thorne, F!OC (Nerea Rose) & F!MC (Neera Rose, cousin/sister)

Book: Crimes of Passion

It had been four months since Nerea Rose had her heart broken by Vasili Thorne. Ever since, she had taken a trimester off to study in New York with her sister Neera, curing her heart. As she squinted over the text, Neera paused and placed a gentle shoulder on Nerea “Everything okay, tata1?”

Nerea sighed “Yeah, just… I feel stupid, you know? I feel like… I saw those red flags, but I ignored them all because… I wanted him to be the man who was in my mind, you know?”

Neera stroked her shoulders and placed her chin on the left one “We’ve all gone through that. It happens to all of us, nothing to be ashamed of, hermanita2.”

She leaned towards her sister and groaned “Ugh! It’s so humiliating when I remember it… when he said her name… there is no greater humiliation.”

Neera stroked her forearms, calming down her racing thoughts, knowing well what it was like to the woman someone dates to forget another, but she’d never bring it up. Not right now. Her sister needed her, and her romantic woes were the least of her problems.

“You know what I think?” Nerea shook her head “That you have too much pent-up anger. And feelings in general. You need to cool off,”

“What do you suggest?”

“Rage room. Shooting room. Then cry all those tears I know you didn’t allow yourself to cry. And a new purpose.”

Nerea smiled gratefully and kissed her sister’s cheek “And they say that I’m the smart one.”

Neera shrugged “I have lived. Now, let’s go! These feelings won’t be getting out on their own.”

They walked arm-in-arm, the crisp air of the afternoon in New York a welcome scent that Nerea had missed. Adjusting her woolen pants and her maroon vest, they entered a rage room, which apparently Neera frequented. She didn’t blame her. Being a police officer, she had as much pent-up anger as any other, or even more. She’d be sure to ask her about it later.

As they were assigned a room, all sorts of breakable things had been placed, and both women were all suited up for it. Blanding a bat, she took a deep breath, let out a concerningly guttural scream and broke a rather large vase. Then, a TV. Then, the desk. She was hitting, and hitting, letting out all sorts of screams, not caring for once about her manners or whoever was watching. Neera keenly observed her, waiting for something. Time had passed up. Fifteen minutes, thirty, one hour perhaps. Nerea put down the bat and panted, all the anger, betrayal and humiliation now simmered down to simple sadness over being the other woman in her own relationship.

Breaking down in sobs, Neera knelt over and hugged her, kissing her head and whispering her sweet things, a side not everyone had the privilege to see.

“Why, Neera? What does she have that I lack?”

“You’re not the problem here, mi niña. It’s his. That guy is borderline obsessed with her.” She tilted her head, taking off the mask as she looked at her straight in the eye “Listen. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and sweet, and kind, and so full of love and with such an integrity, and it kills me that some asshole has convinced you that you are not enough. You are. And someday, someone is gonna see that, and they’ll love it no matter what. He’s lost an incredible woman who could offer him the world, and you lost a fucking idiot who cannot get over some stupid crush.”

Nerea sniffled “But she is… everything that I am not.”

“And what is that?”

“Rich, connected, beautiful… white, even.”

Neera shook her head “Trust me, no perfect little white girl will ever compare to you Nerea. Nobody else has that golden, pure heart of yours. Nobody is as steadfast as you. Nobody can ever replicate how beautiful, kind, loving, and giving you are. If he thinks she’s better, let the old pendejo think it. Nobody is better than you, Nere. You are the best damn thing on the planet, and I know there is someone out there dying to let you know.”

Nerea smiled “You think that of me?”

Neera simply smiled and kissed her cheek “Pues claro que si, tonta3.”

“I love you, Nina.”

“I love you too.”

She didn’t just love her too. Of all the people in her life, she loved her most, and if she were taken from her, she’d die. She was her better half, her sister from another mother, her soulmate, her everything, and she was grateful everyday that she could come home and count on Neera to be there to receive her with open arms.

The last few months without Nerea had taken a bigger toll on Sebastyan than he anticipated. Not being able to hear her laugh, to see how her eyes smiled when she did, hearing her beautiful accent, he hated not having her near.

His brother had been angry at what had happened. When Vasili told him, he was shocked, and at the same time wanted to whack him in the head “What do you mean, you said the wrong name in bed, brother?”

Vasili sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he adjusted his glasses “It was a slip, and she took it like it was the end of the world! She has blocked me all over social media and gone off the grid. Not even Mags could get a hold of her, and Nere adored her.”

“Brother, perhaps you should put yourself in her shoes? How would you feel if she said the wrong name in bed?”

He knitted his eyebrows “It…” he sighed “it would hurt me. The thought of another man having her… I hate it, Bas. I want her, brother, but she’s made herself clear. She no longer does.”

Bas’ heart dropped. He had been hiding his crush on Nerea for a long time because she was his brother’s lover, but hearing that… Could he be so cruel, stealing the only woman who loved his most beloved brother? The only brother he loved, nay, the one he loved most? Could he have the few scruples to do it? Could he be like Trystan, and get with the woman he wanted, like she had done with Juliana?

“Do you love her?” He asked.

“I… I do not know. My head, it’s scrambled.”

“Is there someone else, then? The woman whose name you infamously brought up?”

Vasili didn’t say anything, but it was clear. He didn’t dare say it.

He would steer clear of Nerea. It should be easy, right?

What damage could she do, anyway?

Three years later

Today marked a painful day in the lives of everyone in Drakovia. It had been three years since Juliana Georgescu had died. Just six months after Vasili and Nerea had broken up, she had died. Nerea hadn’t talked to Vasili, but she had visited Mags often, and crossed paths with Bas, who was as odd as she always remembered him. She remembers that everyone talked about his relationship with that singer, and one friend of hers had pointed that she looked a lot like her. She brushed it off. She had a common face; it was normal that people looked alike all the time.

She was dressing up for the private mass organized by Juliana’s mothers. She had visited them often, since her and Juliana had organized their graduation party before her death a few months later. She especially got along with Noemi, to whom she had come close to.

It was strange. She had a mother, once, but she barely remembered her at all. She did remember little segments. Her thick accent. Her lips, always painted in red. Her vivacious laugh. Her love for flamenco. Her head, always covered in red scarfs, always humming and dancing. She also remembered her temper, how her voice could be heard all over the city, the room temperature quickly decreasing. She could be both the sweetest woman you’ve ever met to a terrifying leviathan, despite being 4’9. As her father always recalled, the only small thing about her was her height. She remembers how tenderly she cradled her, singing her songs and making her laugh and smile with her sweet, velvety voice, like a lulling sound. She remembered her lullabies as well. She had the most beautiful voice. She may have not remembered what she looked like, but she remembered all of that. Not many people got that privilege.

She dressed up in a long, modest and elegant black dress, with a black veil that covered her, and wore a no make-up, make-up look. Her hair was braided then tied in a bun, and wore gloves. Spraying her signature perfume, which was sweet peaches, and swallowing a mint caramel to help with her breath, she headed towards the church where it’d be held.

The church was beautifully organized, with Juliana’s favorite flowers, the wisterias, hanging all over the place. Noemi quickly spotted her, and rushed to her with a smile “Nerea, my beauty, how happy I am that you are here! My, you look even more beautiful by the year. How you don’t have someone in your arm is beyond me.”

Nerea gave her a small smile “You know me, Noemi. I’ve been focusing on my studies.”

She pinched her cheek “This is why I liked you most out of Juli’s friends. You had your head and heart in the right place. But it has been three years, my girl, and you are young once. Allow yourself to love and be loved. Even if it’s for a while. Juli would want that, and as someone who considers herself your mother, I would too.”

Her heart fluttered with unknown joy. Someone who saw her as a daughter. She tried not to cry right there “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you, Noemi.”

Searching for a seat, her mind wandered back to Juliana, and their last memory together.

A month before her death, Juliana and Nerea were reading the letters exchanged in their youths, and laughing about the ridiculousness of their pre-teen selves. As Nerea skimmed through Juliana’s mail, she noticed a familiar handwriting. Vasili’s.

“Everything okay, Nere? You’re looking a bit pale.”

“This letter… you and… and Vasili…” she finally looked up. Juliana looked at her half questioning half embarrassed “this explains…”

“Talk to me, Nerea.”

She tried not to cry “He loved you, Juliana. He loves you still. I never said it, but… he said your name, when we were… said that you were the only one he ever loved. That is why we broke up, Juli. And this letter proves it.”

Juliana caught her hands and rubbed them “Nerea, I am so sorry we didn’t tell you, and that his unhealthy obsession caused you pain. The way he treated you was beyond disgusting, and I have finally cut him out. It breaks my heart that you were caught in the crossfire.”

Nerea scoffed “At least one of you was honest with me.”

Juliana tucked the letters back where they were, and caught Nerea’s hands “Honestly? You escaped in time. Vasili, he… he is dangerous, Nerea. His kind of love, it’s obsessive. Jealous. Poisonous. Like a serpent that chokes you slowly, and takes and takes until there’s nothing else to take. Whatever he says, stay away from him. Nothing good can come out of him.”

Her words wore heavy, and the way she described him sent her chills, and the secret language of her eyes made her feel like she had reasons to say that “He hasn’t hurt you, right?”

“No. Not yet, I think.”

“Juli, you should talk to—,”

“No. I need proof. Solid proof. In the meantime, I have to rely on myself… and in Trystan’s protection. Once I wed her, I will be untouchable.”

But that didn’t come to pass. Juliana was found dead one month later, Trystan was framed in a way that didn’t make sense, and thus exiled to New York, and everyone was reeling because of her death.

As she came back to the present day, she realized that there were two seats available. One, in one row, beside Vasili, and another, on the other row, beside Bas. Pretending she didn’t see Vasili, she sat beside Bas, and gave him a tight smile.

“Nerea! I, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Studying, working, travelling, the usual.”

“I know. I—I mean, I’ve… seen your social media.”

Nerea chuckled “You’re always so sweet. That is why you’re my favorite Thorne.”

“I… am?” He was blushing.

“Yes, silly.”

He was about to say something when the priest started talking. As he talked, she noticed that being close to Bas felt good, nice even. Their arms were brushing, and he smelled amazing. She allowed herself to look at him: he was no longer the young boy she had met. He was a man, with golden hair, bronze skin, gray eyes and a stylish beard, the years on him having made him good. He also looked taller and more manly, and Nerea liked that.

She whispered “You’ve grown up. Twenty-two looks good on you.”

He stiffened, and swallowed as he whispered back, his lips brushing her hair “Thank you, Nerea. You… you haven’t aged a day.”

She gave him a wide smile, their eyes meeting for the first time. An electric feeling she hadn’t felt in a while took over her, and she looked away, her cheeks warming.

The rest of the service was spent catching up with him, talking about his achievements and how far he had gone in the political ladder. She found herself drawn to him in an indescribable way, in a way that not even Vasili could make her feel. She felt seen with him. Despite being a man of few words, he had many for her. She liked it. She wanted more. And so, she took the step.

“It has been nice to catch up with you, Bas. I’d love to keep talking to you someday. Perhaps… you’d like to get out of here?”

His eyes grew wide “Do you mean…?”

Nerea chuckled nervously “For Christ’s sake, Sebastyan, would you like to go out on a date with me right now?”

“Yes!” He answered, adorably quickly. She chuckled.

“Let’s get out then. I know a place.”

They went on a date, to a small Thai-themed bar where they talked for hours, never feeling awkward about it, or running out of themes, with a clear, sizzling chemistry between them, never once an awkward silence between them. At one point, their hands touched, and her whole body was alight.

When he walked her home, she decided to take a small step at a time. This time, she’d take it slow and easy. She kissed his cheek, leaving a red imprint on his cheek he had no intention of wiping off. He flushed, a small smile on his face “What was that for?”

“For the best night I’ve had in years.”

Then, she entered her apartment, smiling widely like an idiot and looking forward the next already. For once, she was excited for a boy.

Really excited.

And nothing would blow it.

Tata- synonym for 'sister'

Hermanita- Little sister

Pues claro que si, tonta- Of course, silly

[eggcatsreads]

The 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 trilogy by Saara El-Arifi is, legitimately, one of my all-time favorite fantasies, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

I was given the opportunity to ARC read the third book in this trilogy (thank you Random House and Netgalley), and the ending was so phenomenal I had to ensure I completed my set of all 3 books with both the gorgeous US covers, as well as the beautiful Waterstones editions. This trilogy had the absolute best ending to a series I’ve read in years - perhaps ever. Ending in such a perfect thematically complete way, there was no plot thread left unfinished by the last page.

ʀᴇᴅ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟɪᴛᴇ, ᴏғ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ, ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ.

ʙʟᴜᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ, ᴏғ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀs, ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ.

ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴀᴠᴇs, ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴜsʜᴇᴅ, ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴠɪsɪʙʟᴇ.

Blood is the decider of one’s fate in the Warden’s Empire. But when three women of different blood colors come together, the threads binding them to their individual castes will slowly begin to unwind.

𝐒𝗒ᥣαɦ - a red blood Ember, raised to be a revolutionary to free the empire from class tyranny, but whose desire to accomplish anything died the day her family did. (𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘦)

𝐀𐓣ⱺⱺ𝗋 - a blue blood Duster, raised as an Ember by a mother who hates her - the most powerful ruler in the empire - until one day she seizes on the chance to become more important than anyone expected. (𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘮)

𝐇α𝗌𝗌α - a clear blood Ghostling, with her tongue and hands removed and raised as a slave, she holds more secrets than anyone knows - including the one that could crumble the empire. (𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦)

Filled with plot twists, romance, betrayal, and a war on the horizon - this trilogy isn't to be missed!

[Also posted to my Instagram!]

[rocknrollsalad]

👨🏻‍❤️‍🧑🏻 - soulmates

Thank you for sending this in!! and for picking the only one I know anything about lol

Okay, so this prompt haunts me in my sleep because it's one of those Big Concepts that my long-winded ass would need 100k for, ya know? I mean, I want that for everything I write, if we're being serious, but especially something like soulmates.

i did mutual pining in a thousand words though so I can do this

The idea i have in my plotting notebook is from a tweet I saw somewhere:

if there is no red thread binding us together I'll grab a string and do it myself, loop it twice around our wrists, tie it with a knot, and a kiss for good measure. fate has no business telling me who to love. I've been yours since we met

the last two lines really scream eddie to me, especially. but the mental road block comes in because I get make the rest feel like eddie to me. it's a steve move to learn about the red string of fate (probably from robin as she poetically pins for vickie or something) and thinking that's what is between him and eddie.

so steve has the sort of explanation..................BUT what if I combine them???? oh this ask is doing it's job!! yeah, then, right? robin teaches steve about this concept and he's the more obvious romantic. he's the flowers and fancy dinners. eddie is the crow type where he brings cool things and stuff. steve "whines" to eddie that they can't see their red string but he knows its there and blah blah blah. and eddie does what he does best. he fashions them matching red bracelets. nothing lavish, definitely closer to string than say a cuff. but it has to tie to the lore, right? because if they can't see the red string of fate, eddie will do it himself! there's no denying that fate brought them together but if steve needs to see that, eddie doesn't mind helping him out. plus, it's not like they can wear wedding rings. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh

please help me work out what to write for my steddie bingo card, the due date is approaching too quickly lol ( post with prompts )

don't hesitaite to send follow ups or questions about anything here. i need so many pushes here

[bharv]

Comyrian Red

982 words, GaleZelHeart, M rating (I've finally contributed a tiny fragment to this whole thing. Go read other stuff by @plethomacademia and @smoreofbabylon. Partially inspired by this art)

Read on Ao3

The bottle of Comyrian red was just a little too drinkable, which was just as well, as there were two more bottles that Shadowheart demanded that they needed to drink, lest they have to share it with the rest of their party on their return, which made sense at the time. Or at least now it felt like it made sense, as he drained the last of his cup and felt the warmth of it spread through his body.

At least, he thinks that is what he is feeling.

Having an actual roof, and a tub and a firepit and even the luxury of real bed has made him feel softer around the edges, even with the knowledge pressing on him that Mystra is watching (for of course she is, she always is, but now she is surely watching with great interest in his new reading patterns) and he is, he will confess, happy to allow himself to breathe just for a moment, even if just for tonight, while the rest of the world keeps moving forward, while Wyll and Karlach and Astarion and Minsc deal with… whatever it is they are dealing with (Jaheira and Halsin are gone as well, but he knows better than to question why that is) and while the threads of fate that bind them seem to pull ever closer together.

Tonight, he can lean back and find somebody to catch him.

He turns his face to the side and is met by the warmth of Shadowheart’s neck, strands of blonde hair falling around her ear. She smells so good, and he has to stop himself from pressing a kiss against her neck.

It feels rather rude to, given they have company, and given that until quite recently, this combination of company had felt rather… complicated.

“You have limbs of water, Gale,” Lae’zel tells him, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “Who knew that you could not control yourself when you imbibe?”

It feels good to be teased by her again. Mere weeks ago it felt impossible that she would ever forgive him for taking Shadowheart away from her, but it was love, he knew it was love, and what Lae’zel had with her was no doubt important but… well. Was it truly different from the passion he himself had shared with her, built on curiosity and care for each other’s opinions, then for each other’s needs, then for each other’s bodies? Certainly, they had been quite… vigorous.

The thought of it makes his cock stir, and he feels a spike of shame at it.

“Oh, I’ve seen him worse,” he hears Shadowheart say as she pushes him gently to sit up. “This is only half way to completely useless.”

“I’m glad. I would make use of him yet.”

He looks up to see Lae’zel stand, and he almost groans. “Oh, do we have to? Surely it’s late enough to just relax-”

“You doubt me?” She narrows her eyes as she holds out a hand to him, and he knows better than to refuse her. He feels the gentle push of Shadowheart’s hands on his lower back, and the soft wrap of her arms around him as he fails to quite find his feet. She nuzzles at his neck, and he feels a short pang of shame at being so brazen. Lae’zel, if she feels any anger or irritation, does not show it. Instead her other hand moves to guide Shadowheart’s over his chest, and he looks down in awe at their fingers interlacing on his flesh as she holds his hand.

“Lae’zel… we should go to bed.”

He can hear Shadowheart laugh against his skin as she presses a short kiss to his delicate skin that makes him shudder. “Perhaps we should, love,” she teases, moving her hands across his body in a way that feels indecent.

“Shadowheart-”

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop, I promise.”

“We shouldn’t…”

“We shouldn’t, or you do not want to?”

Shadowheart palms at his cock and Lae’zel lifts his head with a tenderness, the razor of her clawed hand as soft as the paw of a kitten as she looks into his eyes. She smiles at him, that confident smile that he realises in an instant that he loves. Did he know that? Did he know that he had fallen in love with the corner of her fang poking through her lopsided grin? Did he take a moment to think of that softness in how she looked at Shadowheart, and did he ever realise that perhaps he wanted that look for himself, as much as he wanted to carve it away in jealousy?

“Zhak vo'n'fynh duj,” she tells him, and before he can ask what it means, Shadowheart tells him with a whisper in his ear.

“Source of my joy,” she tells him, and then Lae’zel kisses him and Shadowheart’s hands move and he feels like perhaps he should pull away, this wasn’t what they had decided, this wasnt…

But it all just seems so simple, in a way it did not seem so simple before. Perhaps it is getting into the city again, but more likely it is getting away from the heavy curse that lay on them back then. He knew he was to die, he was sure of it. Shadowheart was to abandon everything and dedicate herself solely to her Goddess. It seemed so urgent, so important to scoop up and gather all the tiny fragments of time that they could together, to somehow be the sole people in each other’s orbit for the short time they had left, and Lae’zel seemed so certain in the heavy red of her vengeance, like she did not need them at all. Now he looks into her eyes, and they seem impossibly soft, shining like a beacon in front of him.

It all seems so simple.

[greenhorn-art]

It Starts with a Dream by Autumn_Rain @ciaolongbao

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Gen

Words: 6 566

In a collaboration with Make-a-Wish Foundation, the Glory Professional Alliance hosts an event in Shanghai so that the children could meet their idols and heroes. It was a normal publicity stunt and charity event until it stopped being one. Trust Ye Xiu to always derail the Alliance's plans, but this time no one could blame him, or Han Wenqing, for that matter. Who would expect them to be so good with kids?

About the book:

FONTS: Crimson [Google Fonts], Roboto [Google Fonts], and Georgia

IMAGES: Equalizer background from Rawpixel (ID: 3119862); Gamepad icon (Image# 5358929) by pictranoosa on The Noun Project; Heavenly Domain image from The King’s Avatar Wikia.

MATERIALS: 20lb 96 bright 8½”×11”multiuse paper; 0.057" chipboard; Ruby red Iris Bookcloth; Neenah bright white 8½”×11” 65lb cardstock; 30/3 waxed linen thread; wheat paste (1:4 flour to water).

PROGRAMS USED: typeset in Affinity Publisher 2; cover designed with Affinity Designer 2 and Affinity Photo 2; imposed with Renegade's Community Imposer (settings: Quarto, snug against binding edge, signatures of 2 sheets).

Textblock printed with laser printer, covers printed with inkjet printer.

BINDING: Quarto size (quarter-letter, 4.25"x5.5"), sewn board binding with French-link stitch and breakaway spine.

Trying New Things 2: Electric Bugaloo!

Though it's not my first time making a quarto size book, it's my first sewn board binding and my first breakaway spine. Will not be my last. (I'm fact, as I'm writing this I've already bound another QZGS fic using this method!)

Much like Coptic, the sewn board binding technique bypasses the exact things I dread about making a case bound book: making the cover and casing in. Haven't gotten the hang of spines or hinges yet. Or pasting down the endpapers when casing in. (Art imitating life: my books aren't straight and neither am I lol)

Drumming things on (use of minimal glue, only on edges where necessary) is a lot less stressful and means there is less moisture to worry about. However I have my doubts about the structural integrity and longevity of sewn board binding when compared to case binding. With minimal glueing there's less holding it together, and the particular method of covering the boards means that they're partially exposed, in all their onion-y glory (by which I mean 🧅layers✨).

Onto the design:

The endpapers are an image of Glory's heavenly domain, acquired from The King's Avatar Wikia (I just cropped out the pro teams' logos, then resized and cropped to fit.)

The covers were designed as one image so that the contents will flow and connect from one cover to the other.

A major theme of this story, I felt, was connection: the kids are meeting their heroes; HWQ and YX stun everyone by connecting so well with the kids, playing with them, encouraging them, and inspiring them; YX opens up about his backstory and reveals a similar dream to a kid; that same kid going on to become a pro with New Excellent Era.

To pull some quotes from the story: "Everything started with a dream between friends… but now that dream will end with a legacy", "after all, you're never going to be walking alone. Glory has never been mean to be played alone", YX "[continued] inspiring new generations of gamers long after he had retired."

Following that theme of connection, the controllers on the covers are physically connected with a pinkish-red wire. For that I went with a red string of fate, thinking along the lines of fate and a love of Glory. The wire is also in the shape of a cancer awareness ribbon on the front cover (hence why the red is skewed pink).

The black and white controllers are like Player 1 & 2, and they're connected. To each other, to Glory.

I traced the gamepad icon with the pen tool in Affinity Designer, creating filled in curves of each component, for ease of recolouring and resizing without losing quality.

An equalizer background image, stretched and with low opacity, adds texture to the cover. It also reminded me of pixels from holograms. (The idea of the pros and kids' game playing out on stage with massive holograms really stuck with me).

I also wanted to directly reference Make-a-Wish in the cover design, so I looked up which font they use in the logo/branding. Search results turned up Georgia being used in relation to the brand, so I exclusively used that font on the covers. And added a little star above the 'i' in 'with', like in 'Wish' for the Make-a-Wish logo.

(also first attempt at nail art. Armed with a toothpick, I made Ye Xiu from The King's Avatar themed nails! 😾Sullen Kitten; 🌶️Unrivalled Super Hottie; ☂️Myriad Manifestations Umbrella; 🍁One Autumn Leaf; 😊Happy)

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotW: May 12 - 18, 2024

✒️ = Fanfic | 📱 = Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA

BIG SKY COUNTRY

A Miracle Baby ✒️ | Sawyer Oakley x F!MC - @eadanga

THE BILLIONAIRE'S BABY

Mother's Day ✒️ | Cole Stone x F!MC - @eadanga

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Forest Fun 🎨 | Mal Volari x F!MC - @/artbyainna (IG) C: @storyofmychoices

CRIMES OF PASSION

A Rose & A Thorne ✒️ | M!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @jerzwriter Part 1: The Discovery Part 2: The Resolution

Red Threads of Fate (That Binds Us Together) (Series) ✒️🏳‍🌈 | F!Trystan x F!MC - @rosesnink Chapter 1: The World is a Napkin

IMMORTAL DESIRES

A Pinch of Sugar ✒️ | Seth Olsen-Cooper, Terri O'Rinn - @aria-ashryver

Starlight Smut Supercut - In Bloom; A Respite ✒️Ⓜ️🔥🏳️‍🌈 | M!Cas Harlow x NB!MC - @aria-ashryver

Starlight Smut Supercut - These Bright and Beautiful Things ✒️Ⓜ️🔥🏳️‍🌈 | M!Gabe Adalhard x NB!MC - @aria-ashryver

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

Happy Mother's Day to Laura 🎨 | Levi Schuler x F!MC - @bayleedraws-sometimesx C: @storyofmychoices

NIGHTBOUND

Sleepless ✒️ | Nik Ryder x F!MC - @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Complete Open Heart F/AtoW List - Week Ending May 18

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

All That She Wants (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️ | Multiple Pairings - @angelasscribbles Chapter 6: Unvarnished Truths Liam Rys x F!MC, Drake Walker x F!MC

Capitulo (Series) ✒️ | Liam x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 18: Fiesta En La Playa Chapter 19: Cascada Del Olvido Chapter 20: La Manzana De Su Ojo Chapter 21: Una Noche Para Recordar Chapter 22: Tan Dulce Como un Pie

[iloveassandweed]

Chaewon x Y/N: Stuck in the Glue

In the bustling city, amidst the chaos and noise, Chaewon found peace in the simplicity of moments shared with you. As a member of Le Sserafim, her life seemed like a mess, but it was when she was with you that time slowed down.

Under the moonlit sky, the lyrics of "glue song" by beabadoobee resonated in Chaewon's mind, capturing the essence of the feelings you share. There was an undeniable magnetic pull, an unbreakable bond that held you together.

One evening, as you both sat on a park bench, the melody of the song playing softly in the background, Chaewon turned to you with passion in her eyes.

"Y/N, every moment with you feels like I'm stuck in glue," she confessed, her voice laced with both vulnerability and affection. "No matter how hard I try to resist, my heart is drawn to you, and I can't escape."

You smiled, understanding the depths of her emotions. "Chaewon, I feel the same way. We're connected by an unbreakable force, an invisible thread, like the red thread of fate, that binds us together. And to be honest I wouldn't have it any other way."

As the days turned into weeks, your love blossomed, each passing moment strengthening the adhesive that held your hearts together. The world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of love.

But as time went on, the weight of Chaewon's responsibilities and the demands of her career began to tug at her. Doubts and fears crept into her mind, threatening to loosen the grip of your bond.

One day Chaewon confronted you her eyes filled with tears. The echoes of "glue song" reverberated through her soul.

"Y/N, I'm scared," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The pressure of my career, the fear of losing myself in the spotlight, it's tearing me apart. I don't want to lose you, but I'm afraid I can't give you the love and attention you deserve."

Your heart ached at the pain spread across Chaewon's face. With gentle hands, you reached out to cup her cheeks, your touch soothing the storm brewing within her.

"Chaewon, our love may be sticky, but it's also resilient," you reassured her, your voice filled with unwavering determination. "I believe in us, in our ability to overcome any obstacles. Let's face this journey together, supporting each other every step of the way."

Tears mingled with smiles as Chaewon leaned into your touch, finding comfort in your unwavering support. In that moment, you both vowed to navigate the challenges ahead, knowing that your love had the power to conquer even the stickiest of situations.

Chaewon's career soared, but through it all, she never lost sight of the glue that held her heart close to yours.

And as you stood side by side, facing a future filled with uncertainties, you knew that no matter how sticky life became, your love would remain unyielding and forever bonded in a bond that defied time and distance.

[baskaromai]

If the stars forgot to write our fate in the sky, then I'll carve it into the night myself. If there is no red thread binding us together, I'll grab a string and do it myself, loop it around our wrists and then kiss it, Tie it tight, knot it deep, so no fate, no force, no damn soul can pull you away from me.

[aalissy]

Soulmates

Anddd here is my final chapter for Marichat May :). I hope you enjoyed this set of prompts from me for this month. If you did, please feel free to join me for Ladrien June <3

AO3

Chat Noir bounded across the rooftops of Paris, his heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the city below. The moon cast a silvery glow over the landscape, but it was the thought of Marinette that truly illuminated his path. He landed softly on the rooftop of her bakery, his boots barely making a sound. He loved visiting her, especially during these quiet, late-night hours when the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them.

He tapped lightly on her balcony’s trapdoor, brushing a hand through his hair like he had done countless times before. Moments later, Marinette appeared, her eyes sparkling with joy and a soft smile playing on her lips. She opened the trapdoor, and he slipped inside, his heart fluttering as it always did in her presence.

"Hey, purrincess," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace.

"Hey, kitty," she replied, nuzzling against his chest. "I missed you."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. "I missed you too. Every moment away from you feels like an eternity."

They settled on her chaise, the familiar comfort of her room enveloping them. Chat reached out, taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining as he squeezed her hand. He could feel the warmth of her touch, goosebumps rising on his skin from the glide of her thumb along his.

"Do you ever think about soulmates?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and wonder.

Marinette tilted her head, considering his question. "I do. I think about it a lot, actually. Why do you ask?"

Chat took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Because sometimes... it feels like we're more than just partners. Like we're connected in a way that goes beyond everything else. Do you... do you feel the same?"

Marinette's smile widened, and she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. "Yes. I feel that too, mon minou. It's like we were meant to find each other. Like our souls were always destined to be together."

He tightened his grip on her hand, his heart swelling with emotion. "You know, there's a legend about a red string of fate. It says that two people connected by this string are destined to be together, no matter what. No matter how far apart they are, or what obstacles they face, the string will always bring them back to each other."

Marinette looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. "That's beautiful. And it feels true, doesn't it? Like there's an invisible thread that binds us."

Chat nodded, brushing a stray hair from her face. "Yes, it does. Every time I'm with you, every time I see your smile or hear your laugh, I feel that connection. It's like you're a part of me, Marinette. My other half. The better part of me."

She cupped his cheek, her touch gentle and reassuring. "And you're a part of me, mon Chaton. My heart, my strength, my everything."

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a silent promise of how grand their love was. As they kissed, Chat pulled back just slightly, their faces still close. His eyes searched hers, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and love.

"Marinette," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, he picked up her hand, rubbing at her ring finger. "I think we're soulmates."

Her eyes widened, gazing down at their hands. "I think so too. I think we were always destined to end up together."

"Me too," he replied, his voice steadying. "I've never felt this way with anyone else. It's like... we were always meant to be together. Like there's some invisible string that just keeps pulling us back to each other. Helping us to find each other. Again and again."

Marinette smiled, her heart feeling like it might burst with the depth of her feelings. "That’s so sweet, Chaton. And I believe it. I believe it with all my heart."

They kissed again, the certainty of their love strengthening with every moment. In that quiet, intimate space, they knew that their souls were intertwined, destined to be together for all time. And as they held each other close, they felt the invisible thread that connected them, unbreakable and eternal.

"I love you, Chaton," Marinette whispered as they held each other tight.

"I love you too," Chat murmured back, his heart overflowing with love and certainty. At that moment, beneath the moonlit sky, they knew their bond was unbreakable, a testament to their eternal love.

As they continued to embrace, the night around them seemed to grow even quieter, as if the city itself recognized the significance of their connection. The gentle hum of Paris, the distant sounds of traffic, and the soft whispers of the wind all seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of their intertwined breaths and beating hearts as they gently kissed each other.

Chat couldn't help but marvel at how right everything felt in Marinette's arms. He had always admired her strength, her kindness, and her unwavering spirit, but it was in these quiet moments that he truly understood the depth of his love for her. She was his anchor, his guiding light, and he knew he would do anything to protect her and make her happy.

Marinette, too, felt the profound weight of their relationship. She had slowly fallen in love with Chat from afar, never imagining that he could be her partner in both life and love. Now, with his arms around her and his love shining in his eyes, she felt complete. The journey they had taken together, filled with challenges and triumphs, had only strengthened their connection, making it clear that they were meant to be.

The night wore on, but neither of them felt the passage of time. They talked about their dreams, their hopes for the future, and the adventures they would face together. They shared secrets, laughter, and quiet moments of reflection, each conversation leading to more kisses and solidifying their belief in their destiny as soulmates.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Chat knew it was time to go, but he was reluctant to leave. He kissed Marinette's forehead, promising to return as soon as he could. She held his hand until the last possible moment, her eyes filled with love and a quiet determination that mirrored his own.

"Until we meet again, purrincess," he whispered, leaping gracefully onto the balcony and disappearing into the early morning light.

Marinette watched him go, her heart full of love and certainty. She knew they would always find their way back to each other, no matter the challenges they faced. They were soulmates, destined to be together, their love an unbreakable thread that bound them for all eternity.