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teamstorybooks · 1 month

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hi! I love your feyd rautha fics 🥰 can you write one where the reader is pregnant with his child, a female, and he’s upset and cold with the reader because she’s not a male heir? but then, when she’s born, he’s so transfixed by her beauty and just the fact that she’s his, and that he just melts and swears to kill anyone for her?

My precious one

masterlist ! pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The halls of the fortress echoed with an air of tension as Y/n, heavily pregnant with Feyd Rautha's child, moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors. Feyd, the formidable heir to House Harkonnen, had been distant and cold ever since learning the gender of their unborn child. Tradition demanded a male heir, and Y/n's heart ached with the weight of disappointment as she faced the impending birth of a daughter.

"Y/n," Feyd's voice, usually smooth and commanding, was laced with discontent as he entered their chambers. "What use is a daughter to the House of Harkonnen? You were to bear me a son, a worthy successor."

Y/n's eyes welled with tears, but she fought to maintain her composure. "Feyd, she is still our child, a part of both of us. She will carry the blood of House Harkonnen."

He scowled, turning away. "A daughter will bring us nothing but weakness. I need an heir who can command respect, instill fear in our enemies. This changes everything."

As the days passed, Feyd distanced himself further, leaving Y/n feeling isolated and burdened. The weight of disappointment settled upon her like a heavy cloak, but she clung to the hope that when their daughter arrived, Feyd's heart would soften.

The day of reckoning came, the air thick with anticipation as Y/n went into labor. Feyd, though present, maintained a stoic silence, his eyes betraying the turmoil within. The labor was arduous, but when the cries of their newborn daughter filled the room, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief.

"She's here, Feyd," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Our daughter."

Feyd's eyes met the tiny, squirming bundle in Y/n's arms, and for a moment, the hardness in his gaze softened. The baby girl had a delicate beauty that seemed to captivate him, a sight that defied his earlier expectations.

"What shall we name her?" Y/n asked, her heart swelling with love for their precious child.

"Feydra," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a tenderness that surprised them both.

Feydra's arrival sparked a transformation in Feyd. The once cold and distant heir was now consumed by an overwhelming protectiveness and love for his daughter. As he held her for the first time, his fingers traced the contours of her tiny face, and he couldn't help but marvel at her innocence.

"She's ours, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I will do anything to protect her. No harm shall come to our Feydra."

From that moment on, Feyd became an attentive and devoted father. He would spend hours cradling Feydra in his arms, his stern countenance replaced by a softness that only she could evoke. The fortress, once a place of cold authority, became a haven for the blossoming love between father and daughter.

As Feydra grew, Feyd's determination to shield her from the harsh realities of their world intensified. He vowed to eliminate any threat that dared to cast a shadow over her, swearing to protect her with a fierceness that only a father's love could inspire.

One day, as father and daughter strolled through the fortress gardens, Feyd's eyes gleamed with an unspoken promise. "Feydra, my precious one, you are the future of House Harkonnen. No harm will befall you as long as I draw breath. I would destroy worlds to keep you safe."

Feydra, oblivious to the dangers that lurked beyond the fortress walls, gazed up at her father with adoration. In those moments, Feyd's heart swelled with a love that transcended bloodlines and tradition. The bond between father and daughter had forged a legacy that defied the expectations of House Harkonnen, proving that love could be a force more powerful than any political alliance or familial obligation.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Feyd Rautha would understand the gravity of impregnating a member of the Bene Gesserit. The promise of a powerful heir born with the voice and truthsaying abilities meant a stable driving force for House Harkonnen with ties to those closest to The Emperor. But when you grow a swollen stomach, round and full with his child, the political chess moves are far from his mind.

The Na-Baron is obsessed. At first you note his unwillingness to leave your side, refusing to take to the arena and slay Harkonnen prisoners while you are with child. His dual hunting blades gather dust, Feyd choosing instead to pose his aggression against any male Harkonnen that dares look your way.

Usually unaffectionate, Feyd lays claim to you by placing his hands on you often. His palm presses against the swell of your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the child inside. It almost makes him more protective, insisting he, alone, protect you.

Seperate from prying eyes, Feyd cannot keep his hands, his lips, off you.

“You witch,” he hisses between heavy kisses, his firm grip hoisting your thighs over his hips, “You have poisoned me— Bewitched me with your Gesserit powers.”

But when Feyd sinks his cock deep inside you, his palms splayed across your swollen stomach, he’s too busy growling out your name to accuse you of sorcery. In truth, Feyd Rautha would readily fill you with his seed again and again to watch you swell with more of his children.

dune masterlist

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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holy crowns || paul atreides x black! reader

summary: it was supposed to be your sister, your bene gesserit trained sister molded by the great houses, spy for the imperium. with no warning, paul chooses you instead and changes your life forever. some call him messiah, others an abomination, but you will call him husband.this will be a multi chapter work and 18+only. note: hello! this takes place after the events of dune part two and Paul is about to become emperor. Irulan and her father are in exile and Chani is gone. thank you for reading! if you wish to see the story continue on beyond this chapter, please comment or reblog!

@drunkennunicornn

@fanfiction-addict22

@wonderpals02

@qveendiorsworld

@turn-thy-paige

@hoyoooo

@oscarissac2099

@inesven

@blahzaiblahsheep

CHAPTER ONE

THE MUAD'DIB CHOOSES A BRIDE.

Blood and roses.

“I told you to be careful.” Your sister chided in a motherly tone, despite being only one year older than you, handing you a small handkerchief. With a mouthful of pins, you uttered a small sound of gratitude and used your non-injured hand to finish the task of placing metal rose hair pins in her braided crown. You’d be Arrakis in less than an hour but your sister wanted her last precious moments alone to be with you.

“There, done. My sister, the jewel of the outer world and now Arrakis, I still can’t believe this is happening. Do you think he will be kind?” You asked, straightening up to face your sister in the mirror.

You shared the same deep brown skin and nose of your father but that was where the similarities ended. Both of your mothers had been models of the Bene Gesserit order but only one of your mothers had been made wife of a Duke, and the other a concubine, no less loved.

Until your mother passed, leaving you alone to face rumors of her madness. As you grew so did the stories of the concubine who lost her way and denied herself spice and in turn, denied you of a mother and the protection of the order that trained her and your sister.

“Paul Atreides is an abomination, a tainted nova and your sister will make him anew, his kindness is of no importance. You may go, your sister and I need to speak.” Reverend Mother Mohiam said from her place in the doorway.

“I only need a few more minutes with my sister Reverend Mother, we’re nearly ready.” Your sister said, hand in yours.

GO.

A thousand and one tiny cuts into your brain, you found yourself outside of your sister’s room frozen in place.

You still remember the day Reverend Mother came to take your sister away to train under the sisterhood.You made the mistake asking why, why could you not go together.

“You carry your mother’s agony. You are not sufficient, there is no bite within you, human child. My order has no need of sentient infirmity.”

The Reverend Mother was correct.

What was to be your life after your sister was gone?

Where would your path lead?

There was no place for agony among the stars.

The heat of Arrakis resembled a distraught lover, sloppy kisses of sweat covered your body, the breeze that accompanied the opening of your ship doors held no comfort.

You stood behind your sister, poised to pick up the train of her gown the moment your house would disembark the ship but for some reason, no one could leave yet.

Over her shoulder, your sister smiled, stretching her hand behind her back for you one last time. Yet before you could take it, your sister froze, a sudden faraway look in her eyes. Through your veil you watched her eyes widen, her hands clenched into fists.

“He’s coming here! The Muad'Dib is boarding the ship!” A guard whispered fiercely to another.

No one seemed to notice what was happening but before you took a step towards your sister, her gaze was fixed on you. Despite the heat, you were freezing beneath her stare, unsure if it was your sister or the Bene Gesserit acolyte looking upon you.

The sound of marching feet and chanting distracted you both and all aboard the ship including fell to their knees, the Reverend Mother the only exception. You stood with the others, eyes to the floor, hands shaking as someone made their way down the line, your father making introductions as an attempt at conversation but there was only silence in return.

You waited for the footsteps to end at your sister but they continued on, barely masked gasps filled the now crowded ship and a pair of boots entered your line of vision.

REMOVE YOUR VEIL.

The trembling in your fingers instantly vanished and with otherworldly precision, you removed the veil from your face, the silk sliding down the back of your braids and to the floor.

The Muad’Dib was looking at you.

“Her.”

One by one, every Feydakin behind him took a knee and your house got over their confusion quickly, copying the motion, your sister, eyes wet, included.

Paul Atreides bowed before you, blue within blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Welcome to Arrakis.”

That’s our first chapter, I hope you like it! If you would like to see chapter two, please interact with this chapter, comment or reblog! Thank you for reading.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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God created Arrakis to train the faithful.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Because the obsession I've had since I was 15 and first read the Dune books demands it, I need more Paul/Irulan or at least, Paul Atreides positive and Irulan positive blogs to follow. Like or reblog if you're similarly inclined. Thanks!

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Quando um autor demora a atualizar e é anônimo já penso automaticamente em:

Se vai continuar escrevendo.

Você nem pode conferir se o autor escreveu outras histórias e está atualizando elas.

Se ele tá vivo.

Qual foi a última data que ele favoritou uma história.

Se ele ainda está entrando no site.

Posso parecer louca mais já penso em mil cenários diferentes 🫣 e sempre são os piores. Eu nem mando mensagem cobrando atualizações (autora tramboqueira aqui) mas só o fato de saber que o autor ainda está ativo seja escrevendo outras histórias ou marcando favoritos já alivia o meu coração e me dá esperança de uma atualização.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Meu casal 🥰

Felt like sharing some Lee & Kya From The Tea Shop AU sketches ✨🍵

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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A estrela mais brilhante...

N/A: Sim. Não consigo parar de pensar nesse crossover e vou viver de drabbles. Nem que eu tenha que escrever esses drabbles!

Stella devia ter prestado mais atenção, mas em defesa dela ela já abriu muitos portais. Em diversas situações e ela estava até sóbria dessa vez!

Então por que... Porque ela não reconhecia esse mundo. Por que esse mundo definitivamente não era a terra (a terra não tinha uma parede gigante de sombras no meio do mar!). A não ser que o anel portal do seu dedo (anel portal rachado!) tivesse o poder de viagem no tempo ninguém se dignou a informar isso (lê-se mãe).

Veja a situação. Stella teve uma reunião amigável com a sua mãe no qual ela distribuía críticas construtivas de como cegar acidentalmente a sua melhor amiga era ruim para a imagem da realeza.

Temos uma imagem a prezar Stella. Ela tinha dito depois de me dispensar e informar o fato de como o acidente... Não... A afirmação, não foi acidente... Não! A realeza não comete acidentes.

"- A sua amiga ficou muito próxima do seu namoradinho e você teve que lhe ensinar uma lição.

- Mãe...

- Não quero ouvir mais sobre esse assunto! - Gritou se aproximado de mim e segurando o meu rosto. - Eu não tenho um filha fraca Stella. Você me ouviu?

- S-sim.

- Não me olhe assim, se você tivesse o mínimo de controle a sua amiguinha não teria as duas órbitas queimadas. - Ela disse me soltando. - Eu não sou a vilã aqui Stella. Você pode ir."

Normalmente ela iria para Sky. Mais Sky nem conseguia olhar no rosto dela. Então ela resolveu esquecer.

Uma bebida. Um noite sem pensar em nada. Fora desse lugar. Qualquer lugar menos aqui.

Então como tudo deu tão errado? Não era para ter aquele queimado na cabana na floresta.

Ela só usou o anel e pensou em segurança. Qualquer lugar menos aqui. O que foi fracamente uma sorte por que mais um pouco e ela estaria queimada ou pior.

Ela nem sabia que dava para usar o anel sem uma porta! A, luz era mais forte do que a usada para queimar os olhos da sua amiga. A luz a envolveu como se consumisse tudo e o seus pés perderam o apoio.

Então ela caiu no mar.

E entre as tentativas mal sucedidas de não engolir água e se afogar ela se sentiu sendo puxada e encarada por um pirata!?

Era isso ou aquela cara tinha um estilo muito questionável.

Eu já mencionei a parede com sombras atrás de mim!?

#nikolai lantsov x stella #winx stella #stella of solaria #fate the winx saga #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #Nikolai #Stella

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Reasons why do I think Zuko is a walking green flag (according to what I have noticed within the show):

1. Always feels guilty after doing something that contradicts his principles.

2. Listens to his uncle despite the differences and always turns to him whenever the time calls.

3. Never ever harms the children unlike many of other fire nation soldiers and generals.

4. Lets Uncle Iroh play Pai Sho.

5. Keeps his trauma inside his heart, and even when gets provoked is extremely worried about troubling others with his inner conflicts.

6. Is a fine listener.

7. Lets Appa free and earns Appa’s trust.

8. Doesn’t feel ashamed in working at a tea shop despite being the heir to the fire nation’s throne.

9. Cares for Azula despite her wrongdoings.

10. Is ready to apologize for his faults.

11. Never forgets his duty toward Mai despite his suffering.

12. Is even ready to breakup with Mai to save her.

13. Is an extremely loyal and encouraging friend.

14. Doesn’t hesitate a bit to stand with the right, even if it means challenging his own father or sister.

15. Loves Uncle Iroh so much.

16. Never forgets his mother even after years.

17. Makes sure that the fire nation finds a new way of fuelling their bending other than anger.

18. Preserves the lineage of the dragons and honours them.

19. Hard outside, kind inside.

20. Puts himself at a risk by using fire bending to light up the fountain in Ba Sing Se in the days of wartime asylum just to make Jin happy.

21. Has a very empathetic nature and votes against fire nation waging a war on others in the council of the firelord himself.

22. Is determined to accomplish his goal whether it’s catching the avatar or saving the world.

23. Never tolerates bullying.

24. Is a fine swordsman.

25. Is hot with a hotter voice (thank you Dante Bosco for being the perfect Zuko) and a freaking cute smile.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Eu simplesmente preciso que alguém escreva uma fic sobre esse casal e me mande o link:

Esse é um crossover que eu não consigo parar de pensar. Acho que se Stella acabasse no mundo dos Grishas ela teria muito mais atitude que a Alina (TIPO MUITA ATITUDE MESMO 😳) e também não negaria ajudar as pessoas em quanto tenta voltar para casa. Eu também acredito que ela não iria gostar muito do Aleksander e da sua atitude manipulativa.

Meu Headcanon pessoal é que ela consegue identificar precisamente quem tenta manipular ou mentir para ela por causa do seu passado com a sua mãe. A rainha Luna não era fácil de se conviver e ela já teve manipulação emocional o suficiente para o resto da vida. Esse é também um dos princípios que eu vejo do por que ela não iria se interessar romanticamente pelo Aleksander ao mesmo tempo que teria atitude política o suficiente para entender os motivos dele (Criada para ser uma futura rainha e governar um país).

Eu acho que a Stella é o tipo de pessoa que precisa de alguém que sempre esteja ao lado dela nos melhores e piores momentos. Alguém que entenda as suas lutas e os seus traumas. Por isso eu acho que o Nikolai seria um ótimo par para ela.

Nikolai é leal. Um ótimo amigo. E o tipo de personagem que entenderia os traumas, as pressões e responsabilidades da Stella. Além disso imagine o tropo príncipe disfarçada resgata princesa que foi parar em outro mundo. Só consigo pensar nas trocas de farpas entre o Sturmhond e a Stella 🫠

Você não tem o menor senso de estilo pirata!

É corsário! E quem precisa de estilo quando tem essa cara!

E Baghra 🤭 coitada não saberia o que a atingiu.

Motivos para Stella estar no Grishaverso? Simples ela estava fugindo de algo e usou o anel portal para ir pra outro mundo (terra) mais acabou no mundo Grisha e sem ter como voltar por que perdeu o anel ou ele quebrou.

Além disso, imaginou Stella com asas de luz e todo mundo confundindo ela com uma anjo/santa? Preciso muito dessa fic 🥺.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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My non canon ships (Part 1):

People will excuse me, but Evie and Caitlin had more chemistry with Ben and Barry than them with their girlfriends, just like Clarisse and Percy from the second movie of Percy Jackson. About Tim, there isn't much to say...only that his bond with Conner is pretty cool...even tried to clone Conner many times....wow!

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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Bal can exists but no matter they try it’s always be Ben and Evie being the soulmates. They share the same colors schemes, the same passion for the isle, the same political views. They’re the most iconic duo in the court.

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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E se...? E se fosse eu e não ela? - Bevie

N/A: Parte III.

“Todo mundo tem um ponto de ruptura. Apenas alguns aguentam mais que outros.”

- Eu.

P.V. Evie

“Eu sinto muito.

Que não consiga me sentir eu mesma ou feliz aqui, por mais que eu tenha tentando sinto que lá seja o único lugar que possa sentir isso. Ser livre. Ser eu mesma.

Eu sinto muito por não ser a pessoa que você esperava.

Não me procurem.

- Mal.”

Eu me senti cansada. Cansada como se tivesse chegado ao fim de uma longa batalha.

Uma batalha comigo mesma, uma batalha que tinha perdido naquele momento quando lia aquele bilhete pela terceira vez para garantir que os meus olhos estivessem certos.

O fato é que eu sentia uma mistura de alivio e desconforto com o crescente sentimento desconhecido crescendo dentro de mim. Era uma sensação diferente de qualquer outra que tinha sentido, a mesma coisa que senti quando você aceita um fato que não pode ser mudado. Quando você apenas deixa ir.

Ela tinha desistido. Tinha ido embora deixando apenas algumas palavras rabiscadas em um pedaço de papel e o anel. Aquele foi o meu ponto de ruptura.

Me chamem de invejosa, mal amada ou de péssima amiga mais eu não poderia lutar mais. Não quando é obvio que pra ela que ele não vale os pequenos sacrifícios. Não quando a pergunta E se...? fica mais forte.

- Me desculpe. Mais cansei. – Falei não mais alto que um sussurro mais naquele momento em um quarto vazio enquanto segurava aquele bilhete e o anel se sentiu como o maior grito do mundo. – Cansei de não lutar. De ser justa. Você me ouviu Mal!? Eu cansei de ficar parada.

Porque você foi embora agora? Porque você desistiu de algo que eu tinha aberto a mão? Você não sabia? Não sabia que depois eu não poderia continuar lutando?

Não me interessa se eu não sabia o que estava sentindo. Eu sabia de uma coisa eu o queria. O queria muito.

E isso doía.

Eu definitivamente precisava falar antes com alguém.

(...)

- Então você não sabe o que sente? – Perguntou Doug me olhando enquanto andava de um lado para o outro no quarto.

- Como eu deveria me sentir? Tudo que eu sinto é alivio e um sentimento estranho consumindo o meu ser. – falei nervosa. – O que eu faço? Eu não quero machucar ninguém. – Digo suspirando me sentando na sua cama. – Mais já decidi que não vou ficar mais parada.

- Só o fato de você se preocupar com isso já prova um fato que eu já sabia. – disse Doug.

- O que? – Perguntei desanimada pegando o bilhete e o lendo novamente. Ele já estava começando a ficar com dobrinhas de tanto que foi manuseado.

- Que você se importa. Que você tem um coração. E é por isso que você vai fazer o que é certo. – disse tocando o meu ombro. – Nunca duvide de você Evie.

Por que você sabe que ele a ama. Falou a minha consciência. E que não faria nada para machuca-lo, machucar os seus amigos.

Balancei a cabeça aceitando o seu conselho e indo em direção a última pessoa que eu queria ver.

Por que fazer o que é certo machuca tanto? Por que eu tenho que dá mais uma chance para ela?

As vezes seria mais fácil ser apenas uma vilã egoísta.

Eu estou tão cansada de tudo isso.

As vezes seria mais fácil ser apenas má...

(...)

Respire Evie e deixe ir.

Não nenhuma forma do mundo em que você possa torna isso mais fácil pra ele ou para você.

Balancei a cabeça ganhando coragem e entrei delicadamente pela porta.

- Ben. – Chamei o vendo ocupado lendo uns dos papeis das muitas pilhas que tinha na sua mesa. – Você tem um momento?

- Evie, oi! Entra. – Disse se levantando a cabeça e apontando para uma cadeira. – O que posso fazer por você? – perguntou sorrindo.

Me aproximei devagar não existia um jeito fácil de fazer isso.

- Ben... A Mal fugiu para ilha. – Falei tudo de uma vez esperando que isso melhorasse a situação e lhe dando o bilhete junto com o anel.

- O QUE!? Não! – Disse se levantando de uma vez da sua cadeira derrubando vários papeis e canetas no processo. – Isso é tudo a minha culpa, eu não deveria ter a pressionado tanto. Eu não deveria... - ele disse começando a andar de um lado para o outro.

- Ben não foi culpa sua. – digo o parando e colocando minhas mãos no seus ombros o fazendo me olhar.

Olhei no fundo dos seus olhos azuis tentando trazer o maior conforto possível.

– Eu era a sua melhor amiga, quem a conhecia a mais tempo, eu deveria ter sabido melhor...

Eu deveria tê-la parado.

Mais estava tão ocupada em evita-los, tão preocupada comigo. Devia ter visto isso e impedi-la de machuca-lo.

- Eu tenho que ir para ilha. Tenho que traze-la de volta – Ele disse me fazendo sair do meus pensamentos. – Eu tenho que ir.

- BEN! – Chamei o fazendo o parar antes que saísse pela porta. – Eu vou com você.

- O que? Eu nunca poderia pedir isso para você.

- Sem ofensa mais você não duraria 1 hora na ilha sozinho. – Falei o olhando. – Além de que os meninos também vão querer ir. – Digo dando um sorriso.

- Obrigado. – Falou dando um sorriso sincero de agradecimento.

- Não me agradeça ainda. – Falei passando a mão pelo seu terno. – Você ainda tem que trocar de roupar para algo mais...

- Malvado? – perguntou me olhando com aqueles lindos olhos azuis. Foco Evie.

- Eu ia dizer rebelde mais malvado se encaixa bem. –Digo sorrindo mais logo depois a substituindo por uma expressão séria. – Você tem que me prometer uma coisa.

- Qualquer coisa. - Falou dando um dos seus sorrisos patetas.

- Me premeta que não vou ficar preso lá novamente. - Falei séria.

- Eu prometo.

#bevie #Benxevie #eviexben #descendants

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