#Stilgar x reader

[lieutenantfloyd]

How they react to you suddenly kissing them — Dune preference

Characters: Gurney Halleck, Feyd-Rautha, Duncan Idaho, Stilgar, Count Rabban.

Warnings: Fluff, insecurity, brief mentions of biting and hair pulling.

Authors Note: I used to write preferences like this years ago, but I wanted to try writing some for my current fandoms :)

Gurney: When you close the gap between you and place your lips on his, he loses himself in the kiss before quickly coming back to his senses. He'd step away from you slightly, a part of him fearing that your affection is some kind of joke, or worse, that he's somehow taking advantage of you by accepting your advances. Once you've given him the proper reassurance, gurney will put his initial reservations aside and happily make up for your awkward first kiss.

Feyd-Rautha: When you close the gap between you and place your lips to his, Feyd-Rautha instantly takes hold of your hair and sinks his teeth into your lip. It's impossible to catch such a confident man off guard, especially one as psychotic and unpredictable as him. He relishes the kiss and the metallic taste that blooms in his mouth. Now that you've made your interest known, Feyd-Rautha has a twisted mind full of plans for the two of you, none of which include letting you go anytime soon.

Duncan: When you close the gap between you and place your lips on his, you can feel Duncan smirk before deepening the kiss almost instantly. He wastes no time pulling you closer and bringing a hand to rest on the nape of your neck. What feels like forever passes before you pull away, nearly gasping for breath. Duncan, being the man he is, goes back to his previous task as if he didn't just turn your world completely upside down. Though the small smile and glint in his eyes tell you he's waiting for his next chance to recreate the moment.

Stilgar: When you close the gap between you and place your lips on his, Stilgar's body stiffens against yours and his blood runs cold. His mind immediately starts racing, thinking about all the now-blatant signs of interest you'd shown him and how he should react now that you're in his arms. Unfortunately, his lack of reactions leads you to pull away. You only barely move before Stilgar's recaptures your lips, giving you a searing kiss in return.

Rabban: When you close the gap between you and place your lips in his, his instincts have him shoving you away roughly. While he doesn't want to reject you—and much less hurt you—the sudden contact triggers his warrior instincts. He gets worked up, yelling questions about what you were thinking and why you'd want to kiss him in particular. His demeanor turns uncharacteristically shy and bashful as he listens to your reasoning, and he doesn't object to a redo. This time he lets you take the lead, bending down slightly to give you better access to his lips and touch starved body. Any and all forms of kindness are completely foreign to him, but if your kiss is anything to go by, he's dying to learn more.

[periprose]

Priestess | Sayyadina

Faith is falling in Sietch Tabr. Reverend Mother Ramallo has a solution– marrying Naib Stilgar to one of the Sayyadina, in order to greater connect the people and the spiritual way, and enable Lisan Al Gaib’s journey to freedom, when he appears. This is your story as the chosen priestess.

Genre: arranged marriage to lovers, fluff, smut, (oral, piv, 18+) angst, lots of sci-fi Dune book references

Word count: 9.8k

Fremen Dictionary:

Sayyadina: Lower ranking priestess(es) who have not yet drank the Water of Life

Naib: Leader of a Sietch

Sietch: Cave/place of assembly by the Fremen

Sahar: Reader’s Sietch Name

Biet: Reader’s Fremen Name

Stilgar climbs up the rocky terrain, his fingers adeptly finding well-known grooves in the stone as he lifts himself to the absolute top of the cliff.

He needs some time to think over his conversation with Ramallo, Sietch Tabr’s Reverend Mother, before he heads back to the Sietch. Stilgar is not one to stay away from his people, his community— but for once in his life, it’s too close for comfort.

As Naib, there will be too many people coming to him at once, asking for his advice and input on things he is normally capable of answering. Friends and family will approach him closely, knowing too much about him to tell there’s something on his mind, and expecting him to be transparent as he typically is.

For this moment, though, he needs his head to be clear. He cannot be as jovial as he might’ve been in the past.

What Ramallo offered him is a subject matter he does not take lightly. 

The sun is setting as Stilgar remembers their conversation from the previous hour.

/

“As Sayyadina, as Reverend Mother, my honest recommendation is that the Northern Fremen need to replenish their numbers.” Ramallo speaks in hushed tones of Chakobsa, the native Fremen language.

Stilgar is slightly confused. The concept of child bearing is not one that he has to be concerned with, as he, despite his older age, has not been married yet.

Something he admonishes himself for.

“There are many of us, but we could always expand. I have already suggested to the South that they could send some of their people here, if they would like to be.” Stilgar frowns. “So many Fremen in the south, densely packed, is an easy way to be attacked. We could spread out more.”

“Save your war-speak for later, Stilgar.” Ramallo tuts, and then sighs a long, languid sigh that has Stilgar feeling much younger than he really is. “I don’t mean simply bringing people here.”

He’s never sure what the Reverend Mother wants, but he always gives her his full attention. Something about staying in his faith for so long has kept him here, grounded, seated in front of Ramallo, ready to do what needs to be done. Not just for the Mahdi, as he is often teased about, but so he doesn’t lose himself.   

“Please. Tell me.” He asks, kneeling his head down in a solemn movement, and Ramallo knows he’s ready for this.

“The youth of Sietch Tabr don’t believe in our faith anymore, do they?” Ramallo wraps a gnarled finger around her wrist, feeling a minor form of trepidation she is sure real Bene Gesserit have never felt. “They laugh when we speak of Lisan al Gaib.” 

“They have not read the prophecy.” Stilgar swallows, unsure if he can really speak on this, when he regards himself as a humble follower. “They laugh because they do not believe in the Mahdi to free us.”

Stilgar thinks of his niece, Chani, who suggests that a Fremen could be the Mahdi. He knows this can’t be true, because he believes his people are fed-up— it should have happened by now if one of them was truly possessed with that capability.

“Sietch Tabr is too worldly now. I worry that if we lose our faith, we cannot usher in Lisan al Gaib as he should be, and our promise to freedom.” Ramallo fixes her cold, foggy pupils on Stilgar, the cloudy whites making the typical Fremen-blue appear more teal. He shivers at the idea. 

“I want you, as Naib, our political leader, to take one of the Sayyadina as your wife. One of the lower priestesses.” 

Stilgar nearly protests instantly, feeling embarrassed to even think of desecrating a Sayyadina like this, but the old Reverend Mother knows what he thinks of this. 

“It would be a marriage between our religion and our people, a symbolic union. I believe our spirituality will be renewed.” Ramallo taps his hand. “I’m an old woman now. I cannot make as much as a difference as my younger sisters— and you and I both know it is written that we must keep bearing children.” 

Stilgar swallows. He only vaguely knows of the Bene Gesserit, but he can guess Ramallo was deeply inspired by their way, marrying into families, keeping a physical bloodline going. The only thing that troubles him, is that he’s unsure of what this has to do with having children with a Sayyadina in particular. 

“If you have children, especially with a Sayyadina, they are more likely to be faithful. Perhaps we cannot convert the others,” Ramallo grits her teeth. “But I believe we can start anew.”

/

Stilgar knows he cannot force himself on any of the Sayyadina. It’s bad enough that they cannot say no to the Reverend Mother’s command, especially with that shocking, unnerving Voice she uses, so he would much rather let one of them pick him. Yes, that’s what he’ll do— walk into the temple, and let them approach him.

He just hopes he’s not too old, too ugly, too entwined with his role as Naib. He wonders if that’s why women haven’t necessarily been interested in him— what with his constant vigilance to keep Sietch Tabr safe and with a good allocation of resources, which makes him rather unapproachable, not as dashing as a typical Feydakin.

He knows how Lady Jessica looked at him with reproach when he offered himself to her, to protect her and her son, Paul. Yes, even the name Paul suggests something more to him— he still thinks he could be Lisan al Gaib. But either way, Lady Jessica did not want to be connected to him like that— so Stilgar feels that he must admire how marriage exists in that intrinsic bond between two people, from afar.

On the other hand, he feels the slightest tinge of hope when he remembers that a Sayyadina would surely be impressed with his devotion. In fact, Stilgar feels a slight grin on his face, as he climbs down from his cliff, thinking of a veiled Fremen priestess, eyes of Ibad even bluer than his own, marking her commitment to the faith. Holy, but his, to see like no one else would, and to be devoutly loyal to.

Almost like a personal representation, an extension of their faith together. And suddenly Stilgar feels understanding to what the Reverend Mother said, as he walks through the night, back to his quarters, that there would be power in this.

/

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, knowing that it’s a needless thing to do— a waste of water, now, that a drop of blood has been drawn from where you have accidentally split your lip— and you can’t help yourself.

Reverend Mother Ramallo grasped you and your sisters’ hands during prayer this morning, and told you that Stilgar would choose one of you as his wife.

It’s a bit surprising. As a Sayyadina directly under a Reverend Mother, you simply expected to be on your own, until she died and one of you would have to take her place. Other Sayyadina marry, yes— but you’ve always studied under Ramallo and assumed that you would not have to.

You know the Bene Gesserit— as far away as they are to you— form alliances like this with men, and it’s an honourable thing, typically, to produce a child from a union and continue on a legacy of people. It’s with that line of thinking that you asked Ramallo if this is what you were meant to follow.

“Sahar.” Ramallo used your Sietch name, the one that is only known among your sisters for the most part, as most Sayyadina consider their Sietch name to be their sacred name. “Smarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Yes, like our fellow priestesses, we too can create children for the sacred purpose of replacement.”

You smiled, but Ramallo had a slightly weary look in her eyes.

“I don’t want you girls to forget the sacred duty. Continue the faith. Do not let others forget our long wait for the Lisan al Gaib. Pass this onto your children, if you have them.”

You nodded, and whispered a silent prayer that hopefully soon he would be found, and that in itself would be enough to push people.

/   

So now you wait. You know Stilgar— you’ve conversed with him before, in lunch circles, at the deathstill. He was kind enough— he always bowed when he greeted you, and you liked that, liked that he acknowledged your importance in your role here, however small it may be to you. And he always had a careful, leaning inwards glance, where he would be intently listening to whatever you had to say, even if you simply wished him well and hoped that the Maker would bless him and his passage.

It also significantly helped that he was so handsome to look at, too. You’ve heard women murmur about their surprise on his lack of a wife, and how they’d be grateful to take him, if they got the chance. You don’t disagree– you know you’ve spent many a moment glancing too much at him.

But Stilgar seems intensely busy, and you do not be the one to pull him away from his duties. You have had the privilege of being unaware of fighting, of battles and duels, and now to be potentially married to him, it feels like you’ll simply not fit into his life.

And, on the other hand, as you glumly sit on your bedding, rolling a pebble on the stone floor, you think about how you’ve had little-to-no experience with men.

It’s not that it wasn’t allowed, you’ve always been preoccupied with your faith. With the Reverend Mother.

You know how Fremen men, especially warrior men like Stilgar would be. They have appetites— your fellow Sayyadina sister Nezua tells you about all her crazy endeavours, while you listen somewhat enviously. There’s a reason why Fremen men take so many wives.

Your stomach lurches a little at that. Although multiple wives are common, to continue to reproduce as efficiently as possible, you dislike the notion for some reason— but you feel selfish and wonder if it is because, as a priestess, you’ve had special treatment until now.

Nezua walks into your quarters, and taps your shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“He’s outside.” She takes your hand. “Don’t worry, Sahar. I am sure he will not pick one of us— he will probably pick Ranira. She barely wants to be Sayyadina.”

“But isn’t that against the point?” You squeeze your hands together. “For a union between faith and people—” 

“C’mon, Sahar. Don’t tell me you really believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “Whoever ends up being Stilgar’s wife will probably be in his house most of the time, ‘praying’, but really just dutifully waiting for him.” 

“I suppose…” You don’t want to tell Nezua that she’s wrong. That Stilgar is more devout than she thinks, that he’s not a cheat looking for a free wife to use while pretending to care about the faith. 

Stilgar has always come to the temple to pray, even when it is not necessary for a man of his standing to do so— as he often speaks of needing to continue his worship towards the Maker, the One God, and Ramallo is always pleased to let him in. She wouldn’t do that if he had some sort of ulterior motive, as other less honourable men have in the past.

It’s with a jolt that you realize you already care for him on some level. At the very least, you think highly of him.

Nezua pulls you up off your bedding, and you adjust your veil before going off into the main prayer hall with her.

Upon seeing the arrival of all six Sayyadina sisters— the current number of high priestesses directly under Ramallo— Stilgar pushes himself into a deep, reverent bow, and as he arises again, his gaze seems to linger on you before coming across your sisters.

You feel both excited to potentially be picked, and terrified to leave the temple where you have lived your whole life.

/

Stilgar can’t help but have his eyes drawn towards to you. Not just because you’re beautiful— you are, though, with the eyes of Ibad, deep blue pupils, a wise, judicial expression upon your face— and he wonders why.

Not out of disrespect, but Stilgar often sees the Sayyadina as being sort of withdrawn, within themselves, perhaps solemn in the religious vows they have taken. Even now, your sisters don’t meet his glance as often as you do.

Stilgar thinks you may be defiant. Maybe a troublemaker of sorts. His heart has a sudden thrill at the idea, but his mind knows this isn’t what’s necessary for this arrangement.

“Hello, sisters.” He smiles in a firm, thin line, meant to be placating to those around him. “I believe you know why I’m here. I hope this will not be an uncomfortable process for us all.”

He takes another look at you. No, you’re simply… you’re taking him in. And Stilgar decides that’s overall better than being defiant. Closer to the values of a leader, not even in just a spiritual way as the Reverend Mother had suggested to him. 

You’re gauging his reactions, trying to read if he’s more of a rascal than he lets on— but he meets your previous idea of him, a reverent, kind man trying not to do harm, and your mouth settles into a assured, small smile.

Stilgar feels comforted, pleased even by your expression, and he knows he’s going to pick you.

”Sayyadina—” He points to you so there’s no confusion, and your sisters appear as neutral as they can, while you read micro-expressions of either relief or disappointment. “I would like to speak to you on this matter.”

You shuffle in silence as you leave with him to a different, quieter corridor, and as you turn and fix your veil, Nezua flashes a grin at you.

So your feelings were that obvious, you think.

/

Stilgar is a great deal taller than you. You have to peer upwards to really look at him, and you think he likes that— there’s a slight twinge in his eyes that makes you feel easily drawn to him.

“Why me, Naib?” You ask, and Stilgar stares at you for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away to stare at the architecture of the temple. 

“You have a knowing look in your eyes, Sayyadina.” He responds in turn to your use of Naib— a term denoting him as Leader of the Sietch. You use it so not to be overly familiar with him, but you understand you both respect each other.

“So you picked the most shrewd of us, is that it?” You wrinkle your nose in a slight laugh, but then actually grin as Stilgar laughs.

“One could call it shrewdness. I simply see that you are not afraid, you look for what you know you must find. Only great leaders make the approach.” He explains this so clearly, you were not even entirely aware that you were doing such a thing. 

“It only makes sense to do so, Naib. I could not just stand there and allow you to do all the decision making.” You admit with tact, so not to drive him away.

He nods. “That is why you will be a great one.”

Stilgar seems comfortable with you already, and yet his expression takes a pained look for a moment. 

“It's for that reason I do not want to force you into this… uh, arrangement.” He admits, and you are taken aback for just a moment, just a slight gasp.

“What makes you think I don’t want to be your wife?” You speak too soon, maybe too boldly but Stilgar likes that. Despite not even being betrothed yet, you are so forward with him, so ready to be claimed by him.

And he's just as willing a participant to be claimed by you, so he smiles, watching you turn a little flustered, but you let your feelings for him stay apparent for a moment.

It's not like there's room for privacy in a marriage, you think.

An arranged marriage, you admonish yourself. He’s here only in the most professional of terms. Don’t complicate this with your idiotic feelings, you still have a job to do.

“I just meant that– it would be an honour to be associated with you, Naib.” You keep your head tilted downwards, trying your best to be the reverent Sayyadina you’re known as.

“Of course.” He swallows, unsure if you’ve suddenly become shy, or that you’ve decided to be more cunning– something he admires anyways. He thinks not many women would actually be attracted to him, what of the mug he calls a face, and so he decides to just be glad that you’re willing to be with him.

“Okay, Sayyadina. If you’ll have me as your husband, then,” He grasps your hands in both of his, and he has the kindest look in his eyes, and you look back up at him, feelings simmering on the inside as you maintain a peaceful facade. “We will have our engagement arranged soon.”

Then, ever so gently, he pushes back a part of your veil, wanting to see your face better.

/

You visit him more often after that. Usually in the hall, where there are other people, and you do this so people don’t think you’re too in love with him already– visiting him secretly would only prove that, suggest some sort of affair of a human connotation.

By being around the others, people feel that things are coming into place– religion and leaders are creating a strong, united front that will lead the Fremen to peace. More believers for the Lisan Al Gaib. And you are glad to already be pushing people along the path that Ramallo set out for you.

Stilgar has a stronger look at you, now. Not just the polite glances of before. With every conversation, he takes you in, drawing more and more conclusions. And with every moment, he learns more about you, and he likes what he learns, too.

He sees that you like your food spicy, as does he. And you especially enjoy tabara– the soft sweet cake made of tabaroot, honey, and spice, rich and sweet in flavour, adorned with fruit. It’s a rarity in Arrakis, since a few of the fruit come from offworld traders– so he gives you his portion and you two argue over this, before Stilgar eventually puts his foot down as Naib.

“You should accept. Extra portions go towards those who need it, not me.” Stilgar says, ever the humble one as you’ve come to know him.

“Except this isn’t an extra portion, is it? Sayyadina aren’t supposed to indulge so much, leaders like you may deserve it as you do such hard work.” You taunt him, knowing that you’re both so similar– you could argue forever with Stilgar because you’re equally as willing to sacrifice things for each other.

Great leaders, indeed.

“Sayyadina, don’t make me remind you how important your creed is.” He tuts, and you find yourself simmering with attraction to him– you are beginning to look forward to these conversations more and more everyday. “Your work is just as important– don’t do a disservice to your life just for me, okay?”

The people around you shift in their spots on the floor, to listen more closely, and you recognize that although you and Stilgar grow closer– the intended effect is taking place. People are supportive either way.

Maybe you don’t have to be distant, overly religious, to win support. Maybe, like what Ramallo said, they need to see how spirituality can touch people, and how you’re just a person as well.

He places the piece of cake in your bowl again. “Accept it as a gift, Sayyadina.”

You smile up at him, squeeze his hand without thinking. “Okay, Naib. Thank you.”

/

Stilgar cannot stop thinking of you, even when he is training Usul to fight in the Fremen way.

He remembers your last meeting, a few weeks after your initial one– and then how you said in two days time, after your faithful prayer that the Shai-Hulud would allow your union to be peaceful, you could begin the engagement ceremony. And Stilgar focused on how serious you were– how holy this approach was, how you seemed to glow from within, with some otherworldly energy, and even now he could tell he was enamoured with you. With that strong gaze, eyebrows tensed and purposeful in their thought.

Usul– Paul, at this moment, with his lack of focus– cannot stop staring at Chani while she practices sparring with her friend.

“Usul. Usul.” Stilgar shakes his shoulder, and Paul finally tears his gaze away. “You’re too distracted, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Stilgar.” Ever the charming, young lad, Paul smiles placatingly towards Stilgar, and even he is too struck by his charisma to avoid it. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Please, tell me what bothers you.” Stilgar knows, already, as Paul stares down at his hands, that the boy has eyes for his overly tenacious niece. “Is it a matter of the heart?”

“Yes.” Paul exhales. “It’s not important right now. How did you know?”

Stilgar smiles reproachfully. “I… I suppose I should tell you honestly, before the others get to know.”

It strikes Paul that the Fremen trust him so readily– even Chani, with her misgivings about the prophecy, seems to be swayed towards him, and he does not know if he enjoys the attention, the privilege this grants him. Again, he is struck with that terrible purpose– that he will use these people for his own benefit.

Stilgar interrupts his line of thought. “Soon, I am to be married to one of the priestesses.”

Paul grins. “Ah, Stilgar, you rogue. You’re distracted, too.”

“Yes.” Stilgar admits, and he thinks of you with your deep blue eyes, your careful-yet-understanding glance, and he longs to see you again. To get to know you better. Yes, Stilgar may not truly know you, but he feels he has been on your side this whole time. Every glance at the temple, every cursory conversation at the deathstill, it has all been building up to something– perhaps not what he had imagined it to be, but he would never consider himself unlucky for this, or that Ramallo could ever be wrong about her plans.

As Naib, though, he still has his duties, and he tuts and tells Paul to get back on it. And Paul, strong young man wanting to prove himself, uses his Bene Gesserit training to imbue a level of focus that no woman could possibly break.

/

The engagement ceremony day is finally here.

You're excited, yet nervous to be known as Stilgar's wife. It feels more real with every approaching moment– it’s not just a silly, girlish fantasy, it’s something that everyone will see and know as a tangible union.

You haven't got any time to see him– Stilgar has been away with other Feydakin, no doubt unleashing hell on Harkonnen troops– and so you wait for his return.

The first of many waiting periods, you know that. You always knew this was going to be more of a political marriage– more in meaning for Sietch Tabr than really having to be around each other.

But you miss him, anyways. You like him, and despite your attempts to focus on praying to the Maker that he will be okay, you search for him on the sandy horizon every minute of this auspicious morning, the sun blearing into your eyes.

“You know he hasn’t come this far without his own talent.” Nezua reminds you, as she watches you peer up, blinking in the sunlight. “He’s not Naib for no reason, Sahar.”

All priestesses– both low and high– and other religious Fremen crowd around the outskirts of Sietch Tabr, hidden under cliffs in order to stay in the shade. Yet you reach outwards to look at the sun, risking your sweat even as you know you’re supposed to reserve it.

Lady Jessica, part of the sacred mother-and-son duo from the outer world, watches you with a gaze you cannot place. You know it is not simple curiosity– there is something new and malicious in her stare that has only heightened after Stilgar had asked to be betrothed to you.

A sudden gust of wind blows sand around you two, and Nezua tightens her veil, firmly jutting her jaw in a way that tells you she must be right, that you worry about nothing. 

Ten minutes later, after praying and hoping, Stilgar returns over the sunrise, victorious in battle, and you feel he looks exhausted– yet his face breaks into a smile when he sees you.

He is greeted by many Fremen, fellow family members, but Stilgar pushes them aside, making his way directly towards you.

And you let yourself be pulled upwards by him, as he grasps your hands.

There’s something sweet and endearing here– almost innocent in how he looks at you, as if he’s been waiting to see you again just as long as you have. But you quickly remind yourself that this moment is not just yours– it would be considered somewhat heartless by other Fremen if Stilgar did not appear to like you, and by extension, the whole marriage’s point would fail.

“Sayyadina–” He holds up the Water Rings, the metallic counters representing the volume of water a Fremen could release into the deathstill. Here, they mean that you will be tied to Stilgar, as you are now betrothed to him. “I ask you to be married to me, by nightfall.”

“So soon?” You ask, wondering why he would want to do it so early.

“It cannot wait much longer. Reverend Mother Ramallo is not well.” He tells you, and your heart sinks, wondering why your dear reverend mother has not told you about this.

You’ve seen the signs– she struggles with fine motor skills and often her cataracts make it difficult to see anything– but you are still surprised.

“Okay.” You swallow, and then smile up at him, and he squeezes your cheek in a fond gesture that makes you feel heat rise there.   

“We will be wed tonight.” He calls out in Chakobsa, and the Fremen around you rally with glee, and you feel that whatever this is, even if Ramallo does not live to watch it play out– it’s working.

/

The unmarried women of the tribe fix your hair with the rings Stilgar presented to you, and you feel ever the part of the blushing bride. You know it’s not wrong to genuinely have feelings in this arrangement– you just hope Stilgar feels the same way.

Chani grins at you. You know her well– you’re around the same age, you’ve grown up somewhat together– and you wonder if she feels odd about her uncle marrying you.

“No, if it means I can call you Auntie, I’m happy.” She jokes, and you shove her as she laughs.

Chani rarely laughs like this as of late. She’s always so hard on herself– she thinks she has to be because of how indoctrinated so many Fremen are to the faith. And despite your life as a Sayyadina, Chani has never let your conflicting beliefs stop her love for you.

You only wish she’d be more careful as a warrior. As a freedom fighter, Chani sometimes lacks restraint– so you’re grateful to see her happy.

“Well, maybe some day you’ll be married, too.” You squeeze her hand. “To a great warrior.”

“I don’t know, Biet.” Chani calls you your Fremen name, not your Sietch one, which will be used tonight at the wedding. “Let us focus on you for now.”

“I just… I don’t know if he feels the way I do.” You suddenly admit, and the fear that you’re still going to be lonely crops up. 

Chani shakes her head, that hard, tough scowl on her face back again. “If there’s one thing I know about my uncle, it’s that he’s not an idiot.” 

She presses her cheek to yours. “Don’t you understand how important you are, Biet? How special you are, not just to me and everyone here, but to him especially. Stilgar has not stopped speaking of you for the last couple of weeks.”

You smile softly at that, thinking of how ardently Stilgar looks at you now, how you’ve gotten to know each other over the last few weeks of basic conversation. More close than ever, and yet just far enough that you keep wondering. Is it admiration, gratitude that you’re willing to serve a greater purpose, or something more? You know it’s selfish, but you want him to like you. To love you. 

“Everybody knows, even Muad’Dib.”

At the mention of Muad’Dib, you can’t ignore the slight tension in your spine. Both you and Stilgar have discussed your belief in his abilities, his potential to be the one– but you know that Chani does not share that.

Still, you hear a slight shift in Chani’s tone as she says his name, and you give her a glance.

“You like him, I think.” You tease, and she tells you to shut up in Chakobsa.

You wonder if Muad’Dib was the one who shared this information to his mother, which would make her dislike of you understandable. You get the sense she’s power-hungry, terrifying– she would’ve been a greater candidate for this marriage, an otherworldly mother that fits the prophecy, representing not just the union of politics and religion, but with the power of the Bene Gesserit– and you find that you resist her, anyways. Resist the idea that everything must be for this one purpose.

You want to keep Stilgar to yourself, and it almost frightens you that you might be going against something that you’ve been taught to believe from a young age.

You’re no Chani.

/

The dark of the night spreads across Arrakis.

Stilgar begins the trek up the dune, where you wait, bathed in the moonlight– you’re wearing a different outfit, a dress with intricate beading marking your place as a bride, and instead of a veil, you are wearing a much thinner, transparent shawl that allows Stilgar to make out your silhouette. Your hair is interwoven with his Water Rings.

Stilgar has always known you are beautiful, but especially now of all times, with your blue eyes reflecting him in the silver moonlight as he meets you at the top of the hill– and it’s not a distraction, because he’s meant to be here with you.

He likes you a lot– there’s a taut feeling in his throat, as he realizes he’s watched countless friends and family members get married, but never thought of himself as one of them– and in the past, Stilgar had always felt there was something wrong with him for not marrying sooner. But now, he’s so thankful he waited, because it’s you. His holy, veiled priestess.

You share his faith, after all– but over the last few weeks he’s seen that you share his judgement, too. He only hopes that his feelings will be returned some day and that he won’t scare you off– Stilgar knows he can sometimes be too much.

Reverend Mother Ramallo approaches you two from the other side of the dune. She speaks in Ancient Chakobsa– old marriage passages from the faith, hymns that are sacred in their meaning– and the unmarried women below, begin their chanting and agreement with the hymns. They dance.

Then, Ramallo asks Stilgar in Chakobsa, if he is willing to take care of you, to entirely claim you in every way as the Fremen faith dictates– to not leave you behind. You know she cares for you so deeply, as she’s watched you grow up from a young girl, and you hear a slight twitch in her voice, giving her away as someone who will miss you.

Stilgar responds without hesitation that yes, he will always be there for you. And you believe him. You don’t hear a hint of irony or lying in his tone.

Maybe this isn’t just a marriage of political nature.

Ramallo yells in Chakobsa, using the Voice: “It is finished!”

/

Celebrations are loud, jovial, necessary after the Fremen endured hardship from the Harkonnen. People are dancing, eating, congratulating you.

You’re happy to receive their blessings, and give them back if they wish to hear it from you. You’re still a Sayyadina, and today of all days, you bring especially good luck to them.

Paul Atreides walks forward after Nezua dips– she’s kissed you on your cheek and solemnly stated she’ll miss you at the temple bedrooms– and you’re intrigued, as you’ve never spoken to him before.

“Muad’dib!” Stilgar is next to you, and he shakes his hands, clapping his shoulder, and Paul hugs him.

“Stilgar, Biet–” Paul’s eyes cross towards you, and you don’t sense the same plotting look his mother has. “Congratulations. It’s so interesting to witness a Fremen marriage. I feel like I’ve learned so much just watching. I did not know Sayyadina could use the Voice, as well. Impressive.”

You think he’s rather compassionate, but there’s no telling if it’s an act. You ignore that– you’re meant to be happy now.

“Thank you.” You gently squeeze his hand. “I don’t use it often– I believe it should necessitate a purpose.”

“As do I.” Paul agrees, and you are blown away by how casually he reveals that he can use it. Another sign, perhaps, that he is who you and Stilgar think he is.

“In coming times, maybe you too will marry in our way.” You make as an offhand comment, so not to overtly reveal your surprise.

Paul is mildly surprised by this, but he doesn’t look displeased with that. “Maybe. I think many women here are quite beautiful, they could probably pick a noble Feydakin than someone like me.”

“In time, Muad’dib, you may be a Feydakin too. You have the strength to be one.” Stilgar corrects him, and you like that your husband is so forthcoming, a true mentor that supports everyone.

“Besides, you’ll need to be one if you want to impress Chani.” You input, and Stilgar looks a little taken aback by this development, while Paul looks more interested.

“Really? You think Chani and I…” Paul swallows down whatever he’s going to say, looking suddenly a bit darker and worried. “I would be lucky if she considered me.”

Paul bids you two goodbye, while Stilgar laughs. “A humble one, isn’t he?”

“Better that than overly boastful.” You hum. “Either way, I hope he is not perpetuating a false image.”

Stilgar agrees. 

As the party dies down, he takes your hand, and together, you walk back to Stilgar’s quarters.

/

He’s rather quiet as he sits on his bedding, cracking his knuckles.

Stilgar is not afraid of you, exactly– he’s afraid of what your relationship should or should not be. He does not know the boundaries in which you two operate, and he’s afraid once he opens that conversation up, of your potential rejection. 

Other men would tell him that as your wife, there should be no confusion– that he should be able to bridge the gap, and you would accept it, no questions asked.

But Stilgar had not come this far by simply guessing at things. He knows as Naib, the general context you two have– and he needs to know if you feel the same way, if you don’t just want this marriage to be symbolic in nature.

“Sayyadina,” He calls you, and you sit next to him on his bedding, staying a short distance away, just for respect.

You laugh at that internally. You’re his wife, and you still call on some level of respect. Maybe because you’re afraid of acting on these feelings you have– a hunger for closeness– and you would rather use the excuse of respect instead of pushing him towards you.

Stilgar says Sayyadina with fondness in his tone, though. A formal, spiritual term has never sounded more husky, more inappropriately close than ever– you let yourself hope.

“I’ll ask you this once, and make your answer clear, so I do not bother you otherwise.” Stilgar pauses, wanting to be sensitive about this subject. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re comfortable with. “I want to know if you want to be more than wife in name, or if your heart is drawn to being within your faith.”

“Who says I can’t be both, Stilgar?” You bite your lip, and Stilgar’s face stiffens. “There’s nothing in our faith that says a priestess can’t have both.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He pauses, grappling with what to say.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.” He says, and you laugh, for real this time, a louder laugh than he’s heard before, and he grins, liking the twinkling sound of it, but then frowns. “I’m being serious. You should not have to lie with me just for everyone else’s benefit. The marriage has brought people to greater spirits, already.”

“What if it’s for my benefit?” You speak in a hushed tone, but Stilgar listens to every word, inching closer to you. “What if I feel more spiritual when I’m next to you? I feel the Maker’s way flow through me whenever we speak, I feel like I can understand and interpret so much more because I know we are supposed to be with each other, not just metaphorically, but in all ways.”

Stilgar is taken aback by your boldness, and so are you to some degree, but you continue. “I’ve been ignoring this the last few weeks, but I think that’s what love is. What is faith without love? I think I love you, because you make me understand what I’ve been missing…” You smile up at him. “You’re my greater context, Stilgar.”

Ah, He thinks. This woman is too sweet to me. She understands.

“Sayyadina…” He sighs, a deep shuddering sigh revealing so much emotion; relief, really. You’ve never seen Stilgar like this, but it gives you a sense of how much he represses. “You feel like the missing piece I’ve been waiting for. You… you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for a woman that understands me.”

“I never thought I could have the chance to love anyone,” He admits with some reservation. “My appearance tends to ward women away.”

“But you’re beautiful.” You whisper, smiling up at him, and Stilgar feels your hands trace around his face, and he closes his eyes, listening to the sweetness of your voice. “You’re only intimidating because of who you are, Stilgar, but I promise, you’re beautiful. I’m not the only woman who thinks that.”

Before he can respond in turn, that you’re more beautiful than him, the stubbornness that you two share– you let that unspoken urge inside you, the one you’ve never acted on before, overtake you. And you pull his face downwards in a searing kiss, one where he can still taste the spice on your lips after what you ingested at your wedding dinner.

He honestly has not touched a woman in years– not out of some purposeful celibacy, but more because he has been so focused on maintaining Sietch Tabr. And whatever memories he has of that time, right now is easily trumping them.

You part your lips as Stilgar does, kissing him with abandon, again and again as your lips move with his, and he squeezes your waist before pulling you onto his lap.

He groans. There’s a hard bulge in his pants that you’re sitting squarely upon, you know what that is– you’re not entirely uncultured about this.

You experimentally roll your hips over his crotch, finding a sudden pleasure in your lower half as you do so, and he stutters, suddenly, pulling your face away from his, breaking the kiss.

“Sayyadina– wait, slow down.” He holds your wrists in his hands firmly, the heat of the moment causing both of you to sweat. The night air seeps through Stilgar’s window– hot and humid.

You’ve never wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m a little inexperienced. I don’t want to hurt you.” He explains, and you scoff.

“So am I.” You tell him. “Actually, I’ve never…”

“Oh.” Stilgar takes on a very judicial look, one that you’re determined to stop before he rejects you for the “greater good” or something like that. “I would’ve never guessed that. You gave me the impression of expertise.”

“Then let me gain it.” You proclaim, and you cut him off before he says what you know he will. “You’re not forcing me into anything. I want to do this, just like I wanted to marry you.”

He scoffs, now, but Stilgar likes the sound of that and he kisses you again, pulling your shawl off, feeling you wrap around his torso with your legs– he feels you moan and shudder when he squeezes your thighs. He loves this, and when he starts removing your dress– you don’t stop him.

He pulls it down and under you, and you’re bare underneath. Stilgar examines your breasts with admiration– they’re the perfect size, they fit you well– and he immediately takes to one of your nipples with his teeth, causing you to cry out.

As he continues these bites over your chest, squeezing your breasts and your behind, suckling on your neck, feeding off of your sweat, you feel yourself slicken, wetness catching on Stilgar’s pants– so much quicker than you’re used to, when you used to touch yourself in your room at the temple. A waste of water, maybe, but it was worth the relief occasionally.

Stilgar notices, and he wordlessly lays you across his bed, spreading your legs open, looking down at your pussy.

You’re not completely sure what he’s doing, and you feel slightly vulnerable like this– entirely on display for him.

“Let me drink from you, Sayyadina. I would be honoured by this blessing– I thirst, and it would not be a waste.” He says in hushed tones, as he kneels in front of you, and you feel yourself slicken more if that’s possible. The sacred overtones of worship are not lost on you, practically becoming a kink for you as he speaks.

You nod, and he grasps your thighs tightly, practically pushing down on them so you’ll stay with open legs for him– he strokes them a few times, and then dives in with his tongue, lapping and licking slowly upwards to your clitoris, then quickly a few times to taste you faster, which causes you to seize as feelings of warmth and white-hot sensitivity overtake you, and with your fluids, and his saliva, you’re quickly reaching the point of finishing. His beard tickles, and you squirm a little, and start writhing and sweating, moans ebbing out of your throat, but that only makes Stilgar pull you in closer, tighter, pushing his tongue closer, almost inside, refusing your escape.

You don’t want that, anyways. And you finish in his mouth with a flourish as Stilgar laps up what you’ve given him– a drink from a Sayyadina.

You think he’s done, but you lean back with another sigh– a near scream, really– as Stilgar begins to lick at your clitoris, suckling on it, until you’re wet and aching again– and then he uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and begins to fuck you with his tongue. It’s amazing, wet and writhing and and filthy– it feels nothing like your own fingers and entirely more adept at getting you to another orgasm. The speed at which his tongue languishes inside you should be considered unholy, all things considered– but you feel high, you feel like you’re closer to the Maker than ever– and he suckles at you, his lips closing around your entrance as you moan again and orgasm directly into his mouth.

Stilgar groans. He’s in love with your taste– he thinks he might wake you up every morning like this, if you’ll let him. He’s also painfully hard now– his cock strains against his pants, and he quickly starts undressing.  

“Sorry. I needed a second taste.” Stilgar apologizes, standing up, but he’s not sheepish about anything as he continues to rub you, to stroke your pussy to keep you wet. Up, down, up, down, Stilgar could get addicted to this sensation around his fingers– you’re so warm, soft, wet– he needs to be in you.

You’re beginning to feel overstimulated– you’re covered in sweat, and in between your thighs you’re soaked, practically dripping all over Stilgar’s hand as he continues to work you– and you twitch as you sit up, Stilgar’s fingers prodding inside you.

His cock bobs upwards, shiny with pre-cum, and the tip, hard and redder, while the rest is a flattering tan brown. Although this is your first time viewing the male genitalia, you’re drawn to it. You like how he looks partially naked– vulnerable like you, but warmer, soft and hard in different places– and you reach to take his shirt off, letting his full self be unsheathed.

And you like this– you feel an animalistic draw to his body, his chest hair, the broad muscles under them, and he moans loudly when your finger prods at the tip of his cock. Stilgar lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and spreads your ass, his cock nudging inside your pussy slowly, groaning as it does, gritting his teeth as every centimetre feels like another added pleasure of wetness, the bounds of which he does not know, but he is excited to be familiar with and do this again and again. 

You sink around him easily– you moan against his neck as you do– and Stilgar bottoms out, feeling you grip and tighten around him.  

After what feels like an eternity– both of you drunk on just being intertwined in such a way– he lifts you up again, thrusting outwards, and then back in, pushing you down on his cock, slamming into you. Stilgar’s warrior strength comes into play here– he fucks you relentlessly, and grips you so tightly you think you might be melting onto him. He begins to pound into you, your ass and thighs jiggling with the force of it all, and a severely perverted squelching and slapping sound builds up over time, over and over, his thighs and balls slapping against your thighs and ass, the sound of which you are sure is extremely loud.

You don’t care. You moan loudly, almost yelling as Stilgar’s cock twitches and catches inside you in a place so deep, you’ve never touched it yourself. 

You shake and twitch, barely holding onto him as you do, feeling an immense pressure build inside you, almost painfully, but with pleasure. Stilgar claims your mouth as he thrusts, kissing you, slipping his tongue inside as he drinks from you there– and he loves feeling you moan against his mouth as he does so.

He presses you against him tightly, rutting upwards, and then together he tips the both of you onto his bed again, him on top of you, this time using his fingers to play with your clitoris as you clench around his thrusting. You cum again, this time your fluids adding to Stilgar’s pleasure, and you moan as Stilgar’s hands tighten around your waist. The slap of his skin against yours is laden with sweat and your cum, but Stilgar is insatiable, and he thrusts harder.

You feel him inhale, moan, bite at your neck, and you feel his cock twitch again as he cums inside you, pulling out in a hazy stream, and you writhe against him, feeling the heat of the moment conjoining with the cooler air of the night.

He sighs, satisfied with what has happened, lying down next to you. “May Shai-Hulud allow us to do this again.”

/

Stilgar has to leave again, the next morning, as more Fremen are involved in fighting Harkonnen harvesters, and he wants to oversee this.

“I’m sorry, Sayyadina…” He swallows. He doesn’t want to leave you behind– if he could take you along on his back, he would. 

“Sahar.” You tell him.

“What was that?” He asks, and you wrap your arms around him and his stillsuit, dressed in your traditional Sayyadina dressings again.

“Sahar is my Sietch name. My sacred name, only for my sisters to know.” You explain, although you’re sure Stilgar knows this. He only knows your Fremen name, after all. “Since we’re married– I thought you should know my true name.”

“Sahar is a wonderful name… meaning morning.” Stilgar looks out the window with a slight smile. “But you outdo any of Arrakis’ sunrises, my dear.”

You laugh at that, as Stilgar knew you would. 

“You will still be Sayyadina to me, no matter what name you have.” He says, and there’s a warm feeling in your heart when you hear this, that he has a special name for you. You take his hands, and press your palm to his forehead.

“Oh Shai-Hulud… keep Stilgar safe from unwarranted danger today.” You whisper in Chakobsa, closing your eyes, and Stilgar closes his eyes too. “Do not risk his life.”

Your harsh, suddenly grating tone from using the Voice has Stilgar opening his eyes again. He has never heard you use it before.

“Thank you.” He pulls you up for a soft, parting kiss– and then after memories of last night echo inside his mind– he gives you a firmer, lingering kiss, laden with love for you.

/

Stilgar finds that despite his obvious devotion in his commitment to you– the women are more interested in him than ever.

And if he was a lesser man, perhaps he would act on this. But Stilgar has not forgotten the plan, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten you, not so soon. He knows you two are two sides of the same coin– meant to be.

This was not meant to be an outcome. He sees Feydakin women smiling at him, maybe a little too much– or maybe he has not noticed until now.

You said he was beautiful, and he had thought maybe that was just according to you. But seeing how Lady Jessica greets him, not impolitely but just with more… vulnerability, especially after her duke was killed, he thinks maybe you’re right. Maybe he has something.

Jessica stares at the deathstill, trembling over what Stilgar has told her. She must drink the Water of Life, she must take the place of a Reverend Mother– and she does not want this. She wants nothing more than to be comforted at this moment, because of what a tribulation this new order shall be on her.

Or at least, that’s the image she’s conveying, she hopes, and she believes she has Stilgar wrapped around her finger, her coying, Bene Gesserit way meant to coax people closer to her, and by extension, her wishes.

And Jessica can tell she’s done it right when Stilgar leans over, wipes away her tear, and licks it. Perhaps she can secure more support through playing the part of a sad widow.

/

It’s Nezua who saw what happened.

She interrupts your prayer, your first prayer after returning to the temple, sanctimonious as it is.

“Sahar, please don’t be upset. Just hear me out.” She pulls you into the main hall, where your sisters and Ramallo are reading ancient texts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” You look around wildly. 

Nezua’s deep blue eyes blink, as she wonders what to tell you, how to say it gracefully.

“I saw him. Naib. Standing close to that woman, to Lady Jessica– she cried about becoming a Reverend Mother– he stroked her face, licking a tear away.” Nezua admits, and you instantly blink back sudden tears.

“But he–”

“Men can be rascals, Sahar.” Nezua reprimands you, and you swallow, knowing you don’t know as much as her.

You do know about Jessica, though.

“She has been eyeing him for a while… I’ve watched it happen. She’s got her Bene Gesserit tactics, we know that. She wants to be a Mother, no matter what farce she applies in this moment to gain approval.” You shake your head. “He wouldn’t do that for no reason– she’s very convincing. And Stilgar supports everyone, why would he doubt her?”

Nezua calms down a bit.

“But if he wanted to marry her?” Ramallo suddenly chimes in, and you and your sisters watch as she speaks, suddenly convinced of something. “Would it not be the ultimate culmination of what we seek? The mother of the Lisan Al Gaib, integrated into our society… nothing could compare to how many Fremen this would convert. How many people would choose our way.”

“Great Mother, you picked me for that purpose.” You speak up, almost immediately, without fear. You don’t care if you’re speaking out of turn– you do not want to share Stilgar, lose him to some other woman– and here it seems everyone else is okay with it.

“Yes, and you’ve done well, but you of all people should want us to do better.” She remarks, not without a bit of bite in her tone. You hate that it has to be this way, that you stand in the way of something you used to wholeheartedly believe.

Just this once, you want to be selfish. You have faith that Paul will be Lisan Al Gaib, anyways, so why can’t it just be you and Stilgar?

“Once Jessica drinks the Water of Life, she will be a powerful Reverend Mother– all of Arrakis may be swayed by her.” Ramallo peers at your expression. “Don’t tell me you feel something as foolish as love, Sahar.”

“And if I do?” You state, blatantly.

“Then you must be loving enough to see that this would improve Stilgar’s life by far. Men may take multiple wives, you know that.” Ramallo tuts. “Perhaps you’re not as clever as I once thought.”

“He won’t do it. He knows that his love helps me, and as long as that’s in his priorities…” Your voice dies down, feeling like everything is falling apart as you speak.

“Yes, and how long will he care for a lower priestess when he can have a Reverend Mother? Especially one as faithful as him.” Ramallo shakes her head at your ignorance.

“Shut up! You’ve never felt love, you unspeakable witch–” You scream in Chakobsa, using the Voice, the full power of which seems to shake the temple.

Ramallo slaps you, hard enough that you fall back against the floor. Your skin hums with the stinging feel of a new bruise, sure to make it’s mark on your cheek– and she hisses at you.

“Insolent child. It was I that brought you here. It was I that even gave you the chance to be with Naib Stilgar. He would have never looked at you otherwise.” She mutters, and you feel your eyes glisten with tears.

She and your sisters leave, and you hold your breath, trying not to cry. Nezua strokes your arm.

“Perhaps, if he marries Jessica, it will only be a marriage in name.” She tries, but you shake your head. “You would be the one he really loves, Sahar.”

“Or I would be like a concubine– there to produce children, nothing more.” You think of how quickly you leapt into Stilgar’s waiting arms yesterday, and wonder if you were wrong. If his only intent was to have someone he could fuck on a ready basis.

You shake your head. “I need to speak to him.”

/

You sit on the ground of his quarters, stating a small prayer to stay calm, and when Stilgar walks in, he sounds pleased to see you.

“Sayyadina, I did not expect you back so soon.” He touches your hand, but based on how you draw yourself back, he knows something is wrong. “What is it?”

“You want Jessica. Right? To be your wife?” You say, and he shakes his head.

“We discussed it once–” and your stomach drops at that. “But it would have only been a marriage of convenience to protect her, long ago. Nothing more.”

“Then what happened today, in the deathstill?” You ask, and Stilgar furrows his brows.

“I only relayed Ramallo’s message to her. And she was a bit sad, so I comforted her, that’s all. She almost wasted some water by crying, so I drank it.” Stilgar sits down on the ground next to you. “I promise you, I do not want her.”

“Even if she’s a reverend mother? Closer to your faith? Easier to perpetuate our–” Here you stutter. “The mission?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He softens visibly. “Sayyadina, if you cannot see now that I love you, tell me how to right that wrong.”

“Tell me why you believe you’ll stick with me–” You tear up again and wipe it away. “Tell me you won’t leave me.” 

“I have no interest in Jessica– she is a conniving one, but whatever she thinks may happen, it will not.” He shrugs. “I don’t believe she loves me or wants me in that way, either– she still mourns her duke.”

Of course, you think. She might have only been staring at me that one time because she remembered when she used to be in love. Maybe she was even jealous… Jessica was a concubine.

You suddenly feel much more at peace. You don’t think you would’ve ever left Stilgar even if he had married Jessica– but you’re suddenly more understanding of her pain, to be the one not known in any collected record despite being loved.

“I only did anything I could to make her feel more comfortable with her new role.” Stilgar grins. “And if she succeeds– the faith will have more people interested in it, and there will be less pressure on us.”

“That’s true.” You finally tear your gaze from the floor to look at him, and he smiles at you before frowning at the bruise on your cheek.

“What’s this?” Stilgar gently touches you, and he gets angry hearing you hiss.

“Nothing, just a silly altercation.” You explain, but he’s not satisfied with that.

“With who?”

“Ah… Ramallo slapped me after I said she would never understand love.” Suddenly you’re ashamed, and you feel as if Stilgar would be disappointed in you. “She said the best thing would be if you married Jessica– and I guess I… I didn’t want to lose you, so I used the Voice on her.” “You did?” Stilgar raises his eyebrows, in surprise that you’d do such a thing, make a rash judgement like that against your elder. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

You lean into his touch, feeling better that he’s not angry at you.

“But I am sorry I wasn’t there to see you take ownership of me.” He laughs quietly. “You really love me that much? Then I’m only yours.”

You smile so hard at that– massive relief flowing through your nerves– and Stilgar kisses your bruise, before kissing your lips and making you feel whole again.

[dun-dun-dune]

Write for Stilgar and Gurney, you cowards. My old men deserve attention 💖 Otherwise, I'm taking this matter into my own hands

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Oasis｡⋆.

Stilgar x plus size reader

When the sand is still and the sun has set, you reflect on what has become of your life but there is someone unexpected who wishes to show you how valued you truly are

Warnings: some Dune 2 spoilers but nothing too major, suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, fluff, love confessions, hope , mentions of death and pregnancy

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You doubted that you would ever get used to the harshness of Arrakis. The heat and the perpetual dryness were a constant reminder about how far from home you really were but your duty was not to your own comfort, it was to your Lady Jessica. You followed her from the drowned planet of Caladin all the way here, protecting her and her son, as well as the unborn child within her. 

The Fremen looked down on you, even after Jessica was named Reverend Mother and Paul became Muad'Dib, you were still the outsider, the one whose eyes had yet to be stained by the Spice. You got used to eating, sleeping and walking alone, the sand beneath your feet becoming the only thing you could count on. You trailed behind everyone else, they called you a waste of water and there were times that you couldn’t help but agree. You could not fight, nor harvest Spice, you were raised and trained to be a lady’s maid, destined to spend your days in the shadows observing the world around you as life passed you by.

You often wondered why Stilgar had fought so hard for you to stay with the Fremen when you had nothing to offer them. Even Lady Jessica couldn’t find a use for you anymore. 

The moonlight cast a blue glow over the mountainous sand dunes and you could almost imagine that they were the ocean waves of your home planet. The camp was quiet, everyone having retired for the night an hour before yet you remained awake, deep in thought. No one would know you had gone until the morning, the wind would wash away your foot prints. You would give your water to the desert.

Just as you rose to your feet, a strong hand clamped down onto your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Why are you not resting Suhl?” Stilgar’s voice was quiet but it still held such power over you. You turned slowly in his hold to face him, yet he did not release your shoulder. His blue eyes shone like gems in the moonlight, making your heart jump and flutter. 

“Forgive me for worrying you, I found that I couldn’t sleep.” You bowed your head. Stilgar tutted softly and hooked a finger beneath your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. His thick brows were pinched in confusion though his expression remained soft, far softer than you had seen him look at anyone else. He seemed doubtful of your excuse.

“How many times have I told you to come find me if you need something?” Your cheeks blazed with the heat of shame. Stilgar was a generous man, especially with those he cared for and inexplicably, he was almost too giving when it came to you. He gave you extra water when you had consumed yours too quickly, he showed you how to sand walk when your fear of the sand worms had mounted, he had even shared his tent with you on so many occasions that you had lost track of the number. 

His hand shifted to your soft cheek, his calloused palm from a lifetime of fighting a stark reminder that you were not made for this life, this planet. “I can see that is not all that worries you Suhl. Tell me what troubles are clouding your mind.” You attempted to swallow down the thick lump trapped in your throat but when the older Fremen let his free hand wander to your lower back, his thumb gently rubbing the base of your spine, you choked on the tears you had not allowed yourself to shed.

“It is nothing.” You tried to deny and tug yourself away from the man that had been caring for you. Your eyes burned as he held you closer, a show of affection that you had never received before. He clicked his tongue at you, as if he were scolding a child.

“Suhl.” He cooed, dipping down to press his forehead to your own, the tips of your noses brushing together. You could no longer hold back.

The first tear that rolled down your full cheek shocked you both. It was quickly followed by another and another and another until they dripped down your chin and onto the loose white shirt Stilgar wore at night. You hiccuped and slumped into his strong chest. You clutched at his waist as you continued to sob but the Fremen, despite his constant insistence that absolutely no water could be wasted, gently rocked you back and forth, whispering comforting words into your hair, even if you couldn’t understand them.

“I shouldn’t be here. I should have been killed with the others when the Harkonnens. I am of no use to anyone and everyone knows it.” You pretend not to notice the way his muscles seize and he goes stiff in your arms, you wished to bask in his affections for as long as you could, before he too realised the truth.

His thumb ceased its movement and he slowly pried his chest away from yours. “Is that what you truly believe?” Your lack of an answer told him everything he needed to know.

He pulled you back into him, his thick arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders like he were fearful that you would suddenly dart away from him and into the desert where he could not follow you. Your eyes screwed shut as you curled into him. More tears stained his shirt but he did not flinch away from you.

“Do not waste your water on those who would not drink from you. You are better off crying for the dead.” A light breeze washed over the both of you, kicking up the sand around your feet. “You are not like us Suhl, you are soft where we are ruthless. It is true that you are not meant for this life but I would not have you take that light away from this world, not when I can keep you safe until this world is kind enough to let you bloom.” 

“Why?”

His chuckle made your head bounce against his sternum. “I thought it obvious. You are my Suhl.” A hand came up to lovingly cup the back of your head, urging you to look him in the eyes. “Suhl means peace. And that is what you are: my peace. And one day, when the sands have disappeared beneath a sea of green and Dune is free once more, I hope that I shall be yours too.”

You can’t help but smile which in turn makes Stilgar beam, the blue of his eyes shimmering with what you now realised was love. “Thank you Suhl.” Your pronunciation was clumsy and most certainly needed some practice but still, he squeezed the base of your skull and dipped down, pressing his lips to yours.

The sun would rise soon and you would be forced back into the real world and all its dangers, but for now, you basked in the moonlight, safe in his arms. Perhaps Arrakis held more than just pain.

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Blood and Water (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: "can i request a Stilgar x child reader? basically Child reader (8 years old) escapes into the desert with their parents because the harkonens are hutning them down, (reader and their parents left the city because readers parents found a weak spot in the citys foundation that can lead to a rebellion or something like that), the harkonens catch up and readers parents stay behind to give reader time to escape, child reader does and escapes into the rocky mountains but one harkonen catches the reader and thats when Stilgar saves child reader and he is instantly protective of this little child and starts acting like a father to child reader.

if that is okay!!"

AN// Hi Anon! I hope you enjoy this piece! It's quite a long one and spiralled into it tying into Dune Parts I and II, but the central focus is still Stilgar and R's bond! I also had Chani be there as well due to the Tribe as a whole. Thank you for the request! <3

SPOILERS FOR DUNE PART II

Your parents raised you well. They taught you about the Harkonnens and their violent oppression of you and your people. They told you, as well, about the Fremen – in terms of different beliefs and territories.

You were young, about 8 when they died. You were forced to flee when your parents were discovered. Word got to them from friends, but you weren’t quick enough. Your mother held your hand tightly as you ran, your father already had stayed behind. But, despite your age, you know what it means that the Harkonnen’s are still behind you.

He’s died.

Your mother gets you to an exit, a small gap you used to crawl through when younger with friends. Friends you haven’t seen in a while. Maybe they’re dead, too.

“You have to go,” your mother tells you, cupping your face in her hands, “you have to live.”

“What about you?” You ask back, tears running down your face.

Your mother wipes your tears, “do not shed your water, my child,” she says, “not even for the dead.”

“Will – will I see you —?” You don’t get to answer your question, as a knife is stabbed through your mother’s chest. You fall back, on instinct diving through the hole in the wall. A hand grabs you, you just about escape the grip.

You’re out now. Out of a Arrakeen and in the desert itself. You immediately feel the heat, not used to being exposed to it so bluntly.

You hear something above you, an Ornithopter. You can’t outrun these, you’ve seen how fast they can go.

Still, as fast your legs will take you, you run. You run for all the worth that your water has.

You don’t even feel the vibrations on the sand at first. To you, it’s just the vibrations from the Ornithopter above. That is, until you hear it. The low shriek of your god. Of Shai-Hulud, bursting out of the sand, and taking the Ornithopter down.

You don’t even realise how far you have actually made it, making it a rocky hill. Your distraction of the Sandworm appearing means that you don’t see the Harkonnen’s still chasing you on foot, and you find yourself being tackled to the floor. You feel your head hit something, and the world becomes a blur. You try and fight back, but with the disorientation alongside your age and size, you can only wait for the end.

Maybe some Fremen can find some use with your water, maybe that would be useful in some way.

You get your wish, sort of.

You hear voices, and clashing of blades. Then, for a moment, silence.

You fade in and out. You feel yourself being carried.

When you reopen your eyes, you’re in what your parents told you is a Sietch. You never thought you’d see one.

“Calm, child. Calm,” you hear a voice say. You look over, seeing man much older than one you have ever seen. He wears a robe, eyes blue. His voice is deep, but soft in this case, “you are safe now. You are safe.”

You look around your area, seeing no one else, but beds are here all the same.

The man seems to see your silent question, “I brought you here to rest peacefully.”

You nod, thankful in a way.

The man gets up, he holds a hand out to you, “when you are ready, join us.”

He leaves after that. You sit in your bed. You feel the emotion inside of you for the losses you have just gone through, through everything that just occurred so quickly.

But, your mother was right, don’t waste your water. You can grieve for them by fighting back. By continuing it.

You join the man, but instead find this place filled to the brim with other people. Other Fremen. Some dressed differently than others, but maybe that was just the difference between the north and south Fremen tribes your parents told you about. You never fully understood how they knew this though, given that you lived (lived is a strong word, more like just about survived) in the city under the thumb of the Harkonnen’s.

The people stop, and stare at you.

You hear a girl clear her throat, she looks at you – almost doing calculations in her mind – before turning to the group, “Stilgar,” she calls out.

The crowd part as the man from before, now known to you as Stilgar, approaches you.

“Are you well, child?”

You nod. He does as well.

“Come. Chani,” the girl who was looking at you before looks to Stilgar, “fetch the child some food, please?”

She nods, silently going to do so.

Stilgar puts a hand on your shoulder, “come child. There is a lot to discuss.”

Despite your young age, he treats you like a person rather than a young child. Part of you likes that.

He takes you to a corner as everyone starts to eat. Chani hands you some food, before going to join her friends.

“Don’t mind Chani,” Stilgar says, “she is weary of new-comers. She will ease to you with time.”

You nod. You know it’s supposed to be comforting, but it just once again reminds you of your parents.

Stilgar sighs, putting his bowl down and looking at you, “you will be safe with us.”

“My parents…their water…”

“Arrakeen is not a place so easily entered. But, if we can, we shall try and retrieve what we can. We did that with the Harkonnen’s you had following you. It was contaminated, but it does still have uses.”

You nod, at least they got something out of this.

“Why were you so close to the city?”

Stilgar is impressed. Young, but inquisitive.

“We did not mean to be,” he admits, “we heard commotion, and saw Shai-Hulud, so followed and found you.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank us. You are Fremen, we are all equal here.”

You look around at these people, your people. You are such a small part of a massive place.

“My parents fought back against the Harkonnen’s,” Stilgar nods, seemingly knowing this, “do you think I could help?”

He smiles and nods, “we will show you the ways of the desert.”

He does. They all do. Chani starts to learn how to fight, and so Stilgar has her be the one who teaches you the most. You’re both decently close in age, so it allows you both to know someone else as well in the tribe.

Stilgar also teaches you about the prophecy and legends that are more so within the southern tribes. About Lisan Al-Giab (or “The Voice From the Outer World”). One who will come down and lead you all to victory and bring Arrakis back to glory.

You notice more about the divide between the North and South tribes in regards to this one time when you are training with Chani:

“Stilgar keeps telling me about the Lisan Al-Giab,” you say, as you and Chani lock training blades.

“It’s superstition. A prophecy all about control and imbalance. A story.”

“How can you be so sure?” You don’t entirely believe it yourself – despite the hope it can give you sometimes, that all this isn’t for nothing – and yet you find yourself defending your closest companion here despite that.

Even Chani notices that within you, “how can you be that you this person will show up?”

It stays with you. However, despite that, you remain close to Stilgar. He teaches you all he can, both through action – like helping you craft your Cysknife or learning the ways to traverse the Dunes without alerting the Worms – and words – telling you about the Fremen ways and legends passed down through time.

He makes sure you’re fed, and always helps you with your Stillsuit, making sure it is secure. If he has to fix something with it, he explains what the error is. With food and water, if he has any spare, he gives it to you. He’s a guiding figure in your life. He is the one who took you in after all. He’s taught you all he’s known. He’s given you something you once thought lost:

A family.

That family all cheers for you when you successfully ride a Sandworm on your own. It’s not massive, but it’s big enough. Stilgar hugs you tightly, and proudly proclaims you as his child, and a sibling of the tribe. The tribe had always teased him for the fatherly ways he had with you, but now it was done in a genuine way. They all celebrate you that night.

Before you know it, several years have gone by. You have fought back how you can. Sometimes big things, like destroying Carryall’s or Harvesters in big assaults, or by eliminating a squad of Harkonnen’s.

Stilgar, as time goes on, still holds that protectiveness, but also knows you can hold your own. You’re equal. Father and child, working in sync, both learning from each other – him in terms of your creativity and your thoughts on the planet and plans (being equals, all opinions are taken in, but your ones are ones they listen to more). For you, it’s learning how to survive and about your people and the history of this planet. Sometimes it's found by what other Fremen have left behind, sometimes it’s stories from him.

Then you all meet someone new: Paul and Jessica Atreides.

Stilgar looks to you and Chani – you’re weary of this outsider, but if he wins against Jamis, then he has earned his place.

“Why did I never have to fight?” You asked Stilgar as Jamis and Paul prepare.

“Because, I took you as my charge,” Stilgar answers, “you were my child when I chose that. I am also Niab, no one could challenge me on it, either.”

You don’t waste your water, but he can tell it has meaning to you. He just gives a nod.

Paul wins his battle. You don’t acknowledge it until it’s too late, but you feel something shift within your father.

At first, Paul and Jessica follow you for mere survival. But, things soon start to change, especially Jamis’ water is collected. Jessica drinks the water of life and…survives; and Paul starts picking up on more and more Fremen techniques like they were his own.

Stilgar starts to drift away from you. He still cares about you and checks in with you everything, but you can feel him pulling away.

Even Chani, your closest friend in the tribe, begins to pull away. But, she doesn’t believe as much within Lisan Al-Giab as she does instead Paul himself and his ability to help you all

One night, when you sit on a Dune, looking out at your home planet, she joins you.

“Something’s different, Chani,” you confess.

“I know,” she says, “but they can help us.”

“Your love for Paul blinds you.”

“And your loyalty to Stilgar blinds you.”

“We are Fremen, Chani. We are family and tribe. He is — he is not.”

“He will be Fremen. Tomorrow.”

You don’t hate Paul, he’s listened to you and helped you – it’s Jessica, the Bene Gesserit Witch, that you don’t trust. She’s pulling strings, you just can’t see them.

“I’m sorry,” you say to your best friend, “I’m not angry at you.”

“I know,” she says, “I’m not angry at your or Stilgar. Well, maybe Stil a little,” you chuckle a bit, “but, he loves you, Y/N. He loves all of us. He’s our Niab, he won’t let anything happen to us.”

You nod, “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Chani understands your concerns but doesn’t voice them (she wishes she did later).

The night before Paul’s Sandworm test, you go and find Stilgar.

“What troubles you, child?” He asks. Despite being in your teens now, he still refers to you that way. A reminder of the home you always have with him.

“I’m worried for Paul,” and you, you want to say, but can’t find it in yourself to say it.

Stilgar nods, “I am too. But, I was when I also sent you out on your own ride, and the other tests. But, you survived, and so shall he.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He is Lisan Al-Giab.”

“But I am not.”

His eyes dart to you, “no, you are not. You are my child. You have my knowledge, but your own strength. It was why you have survived.”

Despite the growing distance, you smile at his words.

The day of Paul’s ride comes, and even your eyes widen at the size of the worm. Even you cheer when he masters it in the end. Even you, for a moment, believe. But, you then look to your father, and how wide his eyes are. How taken he is by this legend, by the faith he had in this story; in what the rewards would be in the end.

Your smile dims a bit.

Paul wants revenge? Understandable, so do you for your parents and all other fallen Fremen – but, with the influence Paul is having over your tribe, with the followers he is gathering and the army he is building up in his name alone of Maud’dib  - or, more importantly, Lisan Al-Giab – it scares you. You want freedom and revenge, but you also want to know what would be next. This freedom is for your people, not Paul. He’s even reuniting with people, Gurney Halleck, a brilliant fighter and musician. But, once again, another outsider. This one not even proving himself, just following.

And then you find the old cache of Atreides atomic weapons. A weapon you thought banned in the universe. And yet, here you are, capturing them for you own use.

You don’t know who to turn to with your worries, your fears. Everyone has been taken in by Paul and Jessica, even Gurney. Chani, you don’t know if she is completely blinded by her love, but she hasn’t voiced anything to you yet, so you can’t be sure.

For the first time since you were 8 and on the run, you feel alone. Totally alone.

Or, not totally alone, as Chani slaps Paul as soon as he wakes after drinking from the Water of Life, and the only person she looks to is you before she leaves. She’s as alone as you are. Two people caught up in this madness.

The straw that breaks you is the Southern Tribes being forced to meet after Sietch Tabr falls. You’re glad your father gets to live, don’t get that misunderstood – but you aren’t sure if the person you are begging to see reason and stop what Paul is about to do is the man who took you in and gave you a family and a home all those years ago. You plead, even shouting “father!” To him loudly, startling the other Fremen and even almost getting yourself kicked out. It’s Gurney, of all people, who pull you down alongside Chani.

“Stay hidden, and stay quiet,” he tells you both. Chani removes his hand from your arm.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Chani spits to him.

According to him though, with his thirst for revenge, and a scar he was given, it has everything to do with him.

Paul is declared leader, officially becoming Lisan Al-Giab – all you and Chani can do is dispear and look on in horror.

When it comes to the battle plans, Paul interrupts you before you can even speak, telling you:

“I do like the idea, Y/N, I am glad you told it to me,” his vision must’ve shown him your ideas. Thus, in the meeting, you are left to be mute.

You play your role, just being in the mix of the soldiers. Everything the tribe has taught you with combat and awareness coming into play. It helps you focus. You don’t have any training of a Bene Gesserit witch, but you have your methods.

You picture each Harkonnen you kill being the ones who murdered your parents. You like to image all their water being embraced by Shia-Hulud and the sand.

You win. And all it comes down to is Paul vs Feyd-Rautha. Despite your fears, this is all your efforts have led to. You want Paul to win, but a lesser evil is still evil.

Paul does. Barely, but he wins. You see Chani’s relief. Your father proclaims once more that Paul is Lisan Al-Giab, and kneels. Everyone else follows, even the Emperor after kissing Paul’s ring.

Only yourself, Chani, and Princess Irulan stay standing.

Paul looks to you both, respect and something else in his eyes when he looks to you.

You look to your father, seeing him begging with his eyes for you to kneel. You see the horror there of what could happen to you. The care he shows once again there, but it’s too late now.

Your mind is already made up, however. Whatever happens, it will be because of your choices. Not faith. Not some false hope.

“You will come back,” Paul says, “one day, you will.”

You leave. Chani leaves after you.

You keep walking, ignoring Chani calling after you.

You love her, you do. She’s your best friend and sister. You love Stilgar, he’s your father. But you can’t be around this. You can’t sit and watch this ‘Holy War’ go on. You may be a victim of it due to your leaving. You don’t care.

You’re an orphan once again, it seems. Cast away to the unforgiving deserts of Dune. You’ve just traded in one ruler for another.

You hope you’re wrong. You don’t think you are, but you hope you are.

And maybe Paul is right; maybe one day, you will return.

But not today. And not for many more days.

You’ll see your father again though, you’re sure of that.

In one world, or the other.

So, you thank the Maker and bless them for Stilgar and the family it brought you, and then get your hooks ready and place a thumper of your own down and wait.

Wait to ride off to your next destination.

As far away from Arrakeen as you can possibly get.

You don’t shed a tear. You don’t waste your water. Not even for the dead, metaphorically or otherwise.

[redeyerhaenyra]

Age Gap with Stilgar

Summary: Smutty age gap headcanons for my beloved sand daddy

Warnings: SMUT DUH, age gap, fem coded reader, oral(f), size kink save me- fingering, reader doesn't like boys her own age, Stilgar's an old man and he has a fat cock, eycontaccctt, smidgen of spanking (I may continue that in a later post if thats what the people want teehee) lmk if I missed anything!

Notes: going insane over him

Hnnnggg sand daddy

You wear him out

So young and spritely, he remembers being like that once

Sometimes he wishes he still was, wishes he could keep up with you like you deserve

But you don't want boys your age >:P

They don't know what they're doing like Stilgar. Their voices aren't deep and rich like his. They aren't solid and thick and all-encompassing like he is.

They don't learn like Stilgar does. They don't pay such close attention to the way you gasp and moan and whine if he'll rub your clit at a different angle with his big calloused hand

You tell him so, how boys your age could never appreciate the precious moisture of your pussy, the sacred taste of it

How boys your age could never hope to fill you up with their fingers the way Stilgar does, curling them juuuust right

Boys your age don't know the trick of rubbing their nose on your clit whilst their tongue slobbers over your cunt

Stilgar does :)

Stilgar worships you

He'll let you do anything to him. Anything you desire.

I hate to be the one to break this to y'all but he's only lasting 1-2 rounds 😔

He's old and tired! Have some mercy on him woman

It's okay though he will HUGELY make up for it with technique, as we've discussed :)

And also that he'll let you bounce on his fat cock until the stars burn out

His fills you so well 🤤

He also has a thing for being ontop of you tho?

Squishing you a little with his weight

Firm solid relaxing pressure as he stares at you, eyes fixed on your own.

I know he's huffing and grunting like a dog

He can keep up a pretty quick pace with his hips despite the old man-ness

Your pussy motivates him, what can he say 🤷🏻‍♀️

I know his dick is big I KNOW ITS BIG

Girthy

Dark ruddy colour mmng

Like a desert rabbit he'll let you hop on it for as long as you please ✨️

...

Also he spanks you for being a naughty gir-*gun shots*

[thatredobsessedgirlie]

Dear Dune fans who make fanfics about Dune, WHY ARENT YALL MAKING STILGAR FANFICS? ITS LITERALLY SO RARE TO SEE ONE LET ALONE A SMUTTY- anyways ahem. Yall really dont write about sand daddy worshipper over here?? Like my man needs some recognition. WaKe uP GuYs

[cletimz]

| Glimpses of Reality | Chapter 2

Stilgar Ben Fifrawi x OC Fem

Wc: 1834

Paul Atreides was startled a little bit when he heard a familiar voice enter the training room in which he was right now.

“I thought you were going to Arrakis with Duncan” Mileena mentioned as she looked at the room and realized the strong smell of sweat in there “He didn’t want me to go with him, I even told him about a dream I had about this visit to Arrakis and ending with his dead” He replied to her as he kept cleaning the swords used while training with Gurney “Probably though it was a silly dream. You made good by telling him about it. It was up to him to decide what to do next” She sighed at the end and inspected the arms held on display in the walls

“Don't worry, Paul. In a blink, we would be in Arrakis, and you will be reunited with your great love, Duncan '' She added with a smile on her face trying to enlighten the mood of her friend as she knows how much he appreciates him. Mileena always found it funny how Paul would try to follow Duncan everywhere, even as kids he would be the same. “I'm not in the mood for silly jokes, Mileena. You better than anyone should comprehend how these dreams or visions, whatever they are, affect” The future duke responded as he went to stand next to her and accommodate the swords he was cleaning on their respective place “I'm sorry, Paul. You seriously do not need to worry about him. He's a great warrior. Dreams are only dreams. We can make assumptions about them and we would never know if we are crossing the line of reality or fiction until the exact situation happens” She looked him in the eyes and noticed the lost look in them. “We need to focus on the real dangers we are facing. Do you not suspect anything about the Harkonnens and their passive response at the house Atreides taking over Arrakis?”

He nodded as he listened to her question “Gurney was telling me about them. They are wicked. I am not sure what they are planning but the Emperor asked us to go to Arrakis so he is on our side”

“Try not to be too confident about that, Paul. You could never know the real intentions behind a political move” Mileena commented as they moved to the door to leave the room “You sound like one of those old men advising my father. Maybe you should be the future Duke, or may I say, duchess' ' They both laugh at the boy’s reply “The Bene Gesserit would have my head for that' ' The girl commented as they made their way to have dinner.

————————————————————————

Mileena was in her bed reading a book about the Fremen. She admired their way of adapting to the environment they lived in, not only physically, but psychologically. The girl knew about the resistance from them to the Emperor as every man ruling Arrakis only saw the place as a gold mine to be exploited. She wished them the best for their stay at Arrakis. Some gut feeling told her it was not going to be a long one.

When she was about to close her eyes, someone entered her room. It was Jessica. “Did anything happen? Are you fine?” The girl questioned as she saw the nervous look Jessica “The Reverend's mother is here and she wishes to see you” Mileena could not help to freeze for a minute at the mention of the Reverend's mother in the Atreides palace “Get ready quickly. She is going to talk with Paul first and then with you” The older Benne Gessarit commented as she left her room to wake up her son.

The girl was intrigued by the sudden interest of the Reverend's mother to talk with her. The last time they had a meeting was when she was 15 years old and Mileena found the courage to ask her about her mother and the frequent dreams she had about Arrakis. She didn't mention the man in her dreams as something told her it would bother the Bene Gesserit. The Reverend's mother told her that her mother was no useful individual in her growing up. She was no Bene Gesserit. She could not teach her in The Way. Mileena wanted to argue that idea and mention that every child needs its mother, but she knew better, so she did not question any further.

She was waiting in the hall when she saw Paul leaving the room and Jessica Atreides sighed with her head to indicate that it was her time to go inside. Mileena went inside and court to the Reverend Mother “Come” The older Bene Gesserit used the voice on her and her body and mind followed the instruction. “You have grown, what are you eighteen? Nineteen? Save me the unnecessary questions, young girl” Mileena nodded and responded in a nervous tone “I am eighteen, Reverend Mother. This is my last year of training to become part of the Bene Gesserit” The older woman nodded at her statement “That is correct and that is the reason I asked to meet you tonight. Your training with Jessica is soon to be finished. You would become one of us and you will accomplish your duties”

The woman continued examining her “Jessica Atreides was supposed to have a girl who would, in the future, give birth to the daughter of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” Mileena was shocked at the revelation made to her “I did not know any about that. Jessica never told me” This was something very usual from Jessica Atreides. She would never share personal information with Mileena. “Of course she wouldn't, she was busy raising her son into our teaching method. She believes he is the Kwisatz Haderach. However, I am not here to talk about Jessica and her delusions. As I mentioned, she was supposed to have a girl who would fulfill the duty of breeding a daughter of Feyd-Rautha”

The girl did not like where this conversation was leading. The Reverend Mother continued talking “She didn't have a daughter and now we need someone to fulfill the duty of this absence” Mileena knew what the Reverend Mother was about to ask her, correction, demand her “You will marry Feyd-Rautha and bear a daughter from him. You are going to stay a few weeks in Arrakis until we arrange your arrival to Giedi Prime” The girl was about to protest when the older Bene Gesserit used the voice on her once again “Leave the room”

When she was outside, she could not believe what had just happened. She was furious. She went to her room and started crying as much as she could. She would never find peace under the hands of the Bene Gesserit.

————

The next day they were leaving for Arrakis. Mileena tried to ask Jessica if she knew anything about what the future held for her, but she already knew the answer. She knew everything was planned from the beginning. That is why Jessica Atreides could not refuse to train her as she was in no position to decline because she decided to have a son. The only thing Mileena could do was to enjoy her last days with the people she had grown around.

“What's gotten into your mind? You look defeated” Paul asked her as she noticed the change in her behavior since the meeting with the Reverend Mother “Nothing to worry about. I just want to finally land in Arrakis. I don't like flying” The boy nodded “We will land in a few minutes” and they did. As soon as they went outside of the ship, Mileena noticed the influence of the Bene Gesserit in the people of Arrakis as they were chanting for Paul Atreides as they were told to believe he was the mesias.

As the first days of their first week in Arrakis passed, the Duke’s heir was almost killed. The girl believed it was someone from inside who tried to do that but quickly forgot that as Paul told her they were going to have a meeting with the Fremen leader whom Duncan had met during his mission. She knew how important this was, if house Atreides were on good terms with the Fremen, it was possible they would have a good future in Arrakis.

These days she noticed she stopped having those dreams about Arrakis and the mysterious dream. She thought if she ever stopped having those dreams she would feel like a charge had been taken away from her, but it was the contrary, Mileena missed the caressing and small moments of peace she would feel in her dreams. Her mind keeps wandering about that as she walks through the halls of their new home.

This day was the one arranged for the meeting with Liet-Kynes to check the production equipment left by the Harkonnens. It was obvious they were trying to sabotage House Atreides. Right now the Duke was in a meeting with the Fremen leader. She wishes to meet him and ask him about their people. However, she knew he would probably show disgust for house Atreides and would never answer her questions. However, this might change depending on the outcome of the meeting between him and the Duke.

She kept walking with an absent-minded mind trying to avoid thinking as every worry about her future would fill her head and she would rather avoid that. She was looking at her feet while doing so until she jumped into someone. “I apologize I was not looking where I was going,” She said as she noticed who was the person she had bumped into.

She immediately recognized the clothes as the traditional Fremen vestment; she figured he was the Fremen's leader of the meeting. He mumbled something in another language before he responded “No need to worry. Watch your steps, young lady” He said to her as he moved past and continued his way to leave the place “Wait a minute. You are the Fremen leader, right? Duncan told us about you. I am Mileena, Mileena Almad” she offered her hand to him to shake them “Yes, I am. My name is Stilgar. We have just finished the meeting, your Duke seems to have good intentions”

He took her hand in hers and shook it. As soon as he accepted her salute, Mileena felt a warm feeling of comfort go through her body. She immediately recognized them as the ones she used to feel in her dreams when the mysterious man would caress her. The girl stood frozen in her place and could not say a word. She missed that feeling “I need to leave. I am needed somewhere else. Take care of yourself, Mileena” She watched him go and she was fighting the urge to follow him. She found peace in her mind for less than a second and it was still enough for her.

there are probably many mistakes but I just want to post this chapter and go to sleep, chauuu los tkm💋🧟

[fablelady]

MORE STILGAR FAN FICS PLEASE!!!!

like the title says please please please PLEASE to all you fanfic writers writing for dune please write some for stilgar too!! i understand yall are loving that phsyco baldy and the kangaroo mouse messiah but please!!! write some stories about Stilgar too!! i can tell ya you will have quit a few happy readers!!! just please consider it at least!! PRETTY PLEASE!!!!

[quivm]

PLEASE WRITERS! more stilgar fanfics, he’s literally everything. theres so much to use as well by the fact he thinks water is so important. im begging on my knees (also paul but not important). i haven’t post fanfic on here in a while but if this drought continues i will try and make some fanfics mysef haha

[lieutenantfloyd]

Please please write something with stilgar he's so under apricated

Nectar | Stilgar x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Minors DNI)

Warnings: Smut without plot, consensual somnophilia, fingering, oral (f recieving), hair pulling, squirting, overstimulation, riding, creampie.

Read on AO3

He comes to you at night, smelling of spice and war.

His silent footsteps paired with the shadowy night allow him to slink in without alerting the others. You're mostly asleep, but you still feel thankful for having your own tent.

Stilgar is quick to sink to his knees and lean over your body. You whine as he places a kiss to the back of your neck. The material of his plain clothing presses against your skin, and you're too tired to chaste him for leaving his stillsuit behind.

The nights are growing more dangerous as of late, and you've become accustomed to simply resting—your body dancing in and out of sleep while never truly letting your guard down.

When inside your tent, you strip down to nothing more than the barest layers. There's something intoxicating about the always warm air of Arrakis moving over every inch of your skin.

Equally as intoxicating is the approving hiss Stilgar lets out while spreading your bare legs. You're wet, despite bringing yourself to completion maybe an hour ago. After having him, your fingers—while warm and nimble—can no longer satisfy you fully.

As if he heard your thoughts, he runs his middle finger through your folds before bringing the moisture he discovers to his mouth. A low, throaty whine leaves his mouth and you instinctually buck your hips back towards him. Stilgar takes the bait and lowers his head between your thighs.

His fingers spread you open, allowing him to lick long, thick stripes up your pussy. You drop your head forward, burying your face while voicing a high pitched whine into the bed linens underneath you.

His calloused hands slide upward, sinking into the meat of your ass as his skilled tongue begins to fuck itself into your core. Your back arches with each thrust, and you again buck your hips back into him. Doing your best to ride his face while he devours you from behind. Once your moans begin to bleed into the air, he shifts softly. Slacking his jaw while pushing his face and mouth further into your core. The new angle allows the rough strands of his beard to brush against your swollen clit, unraveling you completely.

Stilgar shifts his focus, now casting shapes between your sopping folds as the aftershocks of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You reach a hand behind you and take a fistful of his messy hair, spurring him onward. He spreads your thighs even further.

Your second peak comes quick and messy. Water is near impossible to come by in these lands, but you ensure he'll never dry.

Unwavering in his assault of your cunt, Stilgar adds a warm, thick finger, then two more. The delicious stretch makes the grip on his hair tighten, but Stilgar doesn't slow his motions. You've already proven on previous occasions that you'll happily take whatever he gives you. The wet sounds of your fingered cunt blend with the cries falling from your mouth.

With each aching curl of his digits, the corners of your vision grow blurrier as your body goes taut. Only after you're shaking with a third orgasm does he pull away, now content with kissing his way up your spine.

While you catch your breath, he slots himself next to you. Soon after, he pulls you into his strong arms before drawing you upwards. Stilgar's stiff cock slips into you near effortlessly, and you test the waters by rolling your hips. He smiles at you contently, his lips and surrounding beard still coated in your nectar.

You set a hurried pace, greedily riding him. His strained moans freely fill the air with each snap of your hips.

It's only been two days since his last visit, but there's a sense of desperation within him.

It isn't long before he's nearing his own peak, his strong arms pulling you down against his chest. He's clingiest when he's close, and you smile as his hands curl protectively around the small of your back. His stream of moans grows sharper.

Your fingernails dig into the tanned skin of his chest. When your hips start to falter, his large hands waste no time guiding you down onto his solid cock until you both cum. A strained groan passes his lips as he paints your cunt generously with his seed.

-

Sometimes deep conversation follows, but like many nights you lay together in comfortable silence.

You kiss his shoulder and watch as his boundless blue eyes widen and an unmistakable shudder flows through him. Stilgar, a deeply religious man, has a particular way of leaving you feeling grateful to be on the receiving end of his faithfulness.

The sands beat harshly against the walls of your tent.  Your fingers traipse lazily across his chest before you send your hand traveling lower.

After all, giving him your own devotion and praise is only fair.

[periprose]

Listen I fucking love dune and I just watched part 2 and I think im having the spice agony lol. I need to write about it now!!! Pls let me know if you'd read it :)

[dunefandomhub]

Fic Rec Friday!

Stilgar Fics

Stormcloud by @space-blue

Stilgar x Paul

The heat is almost solid, something Paul chokes on as he struggles to catch his breath. It wicks the sweat from him, but not so fast that Stilgar doesn't get there first.

'You waste so much,' the older man whispers against his belly.

Rated E

Mercurial by @bjorntobemild

Stilgar x Reader

Mercurial. If you had to put it in a word, it would be mercurial. He’s a mercurial man. Even if the word doesn’t feel quite right. Doesn’t do justice to who he is. What he is. He’s stoic with a blade in his hand, swift and pitiless — but joyless too. You see it up close when he presses a crysknife to your throat, the assurance: “I will make it quick,” hardly out of his mouth before you land a blow that gives your Lady the opening she hardly needs; knocks the breath from him. He’s cautious in the wake of the Lady Jessica’s defence, calm, but not cowed when she sends him to his knees and Paul takes aim from the cliffs. 

Rated M

Myth of Devotion by somethingdifferent

Stilgar x Jessica

“Aren’t you going to invite me in,” she says, voice low and laced with honey. She could command him, but they both know she doesn’t need to. Stilgar and Jessica, the night before the attack on the Emperor. Rated E

[redeyerhaenyra]

Fluffy moments with Stilgar

Summary: Headcanons full of fluff with Stilgar bcos I am not immune to sand daddy

Warnings: Not much.. age gap? I think that's it. Let me know if I've missed anything!

Notes: I can't wait to write smut for this dude wait what who said that

God I love this dude

Not nearly as much as he loves you though

Stilgar often isn't a man or words I think.

He's kinda like a cat. He'll just stare at you, slowly blink.

He likes to simply spend time in your presence

Definitely DOES NOT emit soft low moans that rumble from his chest when you thread your hands through his hair. Definitely doesn't do that.

He calls you "rohi". Doesn't tell you what it means you have to ask another Fremen to find out

(It means "my soul mate" 🥺🥺)

Sometimes he'll pinch your cheeks like you're a child

When you pout about it he just giggles at you that you look so silly

Will always pull the age card btw???

"I am old I don't have to explain to you-" "Yes you do?" "No-"

"No you're too young to do that rohi I will do it :3" "Stilgar im a grown adult" "Just a little baby compared to me I will do it :33"

He's such a cootiepatootie ✨️

Like to think he doesn't realise he's looking at you sometimes

Just staring at you from across the room with a big smile on his stupid face and the other fremen will motion to him like "Stilgar's at it again."

Actually worships the ground you walk on

Put it this way: if it rained on Arrakis he's not just putting his coat down over a puddle for you, he's throwing HIMSELF down over the puddle too

Oh and he always has to be near you

Not required that he's touching you at all times but he's gotta be close to you

Likes to keep an eye on you yknow? For safety

He's also a fucking oven???

This is a sfw post so I won't go too in depth about stilgars thick hairy sweaty body- *gunshots*

🤤🤤🤤

Anyway

He's soooo soft and warm I just know it

If not pillow why pillow shaped?

Shai'Hulud help you if you try to get up out of bed before Stilgar is ready to get up

Cos it's not happening

Stilgar is NOT a morning person

Tell him good morning he just grunts at you

He's tired okay

Grumpy old man tm

Though he often won't fall asleep until you do.

He strokes your hair and gazes at you like you've just presented him with the sun, moon and all the stars as you're curled up asleep next to him

Stilgar whispers to you how much you mean to him in the wee hours of the night. When it's just you and him.

You think he doesn't know that occasionally you're pretending to be asleep just to listen to him, but he knows. And he keeps doing it.

He'll scold you for staying up late though >:( youngin' like you needs your sleep!

[thatredobsessedgirlie]

I LOVE YOU WRITER

Remember that post I made about stilgar? Guess what I found while scrolling through my tags. @periprose, with her stilgar x reader fic that has smut and beautifully made like THANK YOU 😭😭🙏🙏🙏

[cletimz]

|Glimpses of Reality |

Stilgar Ben Fifrawi x OC Fem

WC: 1153

The sound of children’s laughter filled the Atreides Castle, the future heir and the young apprentice of his mother were playing together as the elders discussed the next and most favorable moves for House Atreides.

“Did you find it?” Paul asked as she was looking around for the butterfly they had been chasing. Mileena shook her head “I believe it left to the gardens. We can try to search in there” Paul nodded and the two of them got back to their initial task of catching the butterfly.

Jessica Atreides was looking at them playing from the balcony of the Duke’s office. She was doubting between ending their game as the girl needed to keep her Bene Gesserit training or let them play as her son looked happy at the moment. She chose the second one, she would always choose Paul’s happiness.

“Is it not time for Paul to train his sword skills and Mileena to continue training with you?” The Duke asked as he joined his partner outside of his office. Jessica stumbled a little bit “I thought you were still inside discussing whatever matters those old men bring to you” Leto laughed at her response. “We finished early as expected. I was hoping to attend Paul’s training but I think he’s quite busy right now” The Duke nodded his head to point at the two kids that were jumping in order to catch the butterfly that was flying above their heads.

Jessica laughed and continued observing the two children. When she accepted to train Mileena Almad, she merely did it as the Reverend Mother asked her to do it, and a Bene Gesserit would never deny any petition from her. However, it seems that this was the right choice as the girl immediately connected with her son. She was his first friend from his age; she would not remind him of the duties he has as the Duke’s son like most people do, she was a breath of fresh air to the pressure her son felt.

“Are you still against the arrangement between Mileena and Paul?” He asked as he could not find a reason to explain the negativity from Jessica to this arrangement. “They get along together. When they are older, they will make a happy marriage” Jessica denied with her head “That’s where you are wrong. They will fall in love but not with each other. They will never see each other as their lover” The Duke frowned when he heard that “How would you know that? They live together and will continue this way for more years. It is highly possible that they eventually will look at each other with more than friendship intentions”

She sighed and moved inside to the door of the office to get Mileena to continue her training “I can not speak about Paul as he does not talk to me about certain matters. However, Mileena is always talking to me about the dreams she has. There is a man in her future and it is not Paul” She answered as she closed the door of the office and headed to the garden to get Mileena and Paul to do their duties.

Even if she would show support for this arrangement, she knew the Reverent Mother would not approve it. They held another plan for Mileena and Paul. Jessica Atreides can only rescue one of them from the hands of the Bene Gesserit, and once again, she would choose her son’s happiness above anything.

————————————————————

Time skip (Time period of Dune 1)

————————————————————

There she was, back to this place which has become familiar as she always found herself at it in her dreams.

The hot temperatures and the infinity sand could make any foreigner get on their knees and cry for help to get back home. However, this was not her case. This place was her home, she could feel how her body got along with the sand and became one rhythm. Mileena could not be happier. She finally found peace.

Someone approached her from behind. She already knew who it was by feeling his hands over hers and hugging her body. “You need to get back to sleep, we will leave in a few hours” She rolled her eyes slightly and let out a small laugh at the typical protective behavior from him. “I know and I also know that I can not miss this magnificent view of the sunrise” He kissed her cheek and caressed her growing belly “He might not think the same. I am pretty sure he would prefer his mother to be sleeping right now” Mileena laughed at his response “He likes the sunrises just like his mother” He smiled as he imagined the three of them together. They stayed in that posture for a few minutes until he talked again “Let’s get back inside to rest until everyone wakes up” She nodded supporting his suggestion and when she was about to turn around and look at the man who would always caress her in every dream, she woke up.

She let out a whine of frustration as once again, she could not see the face of the man who was always with her. Mileena tried to get back to rest but it was impossible. She needs an answer to who this man is, the man whom she has always been dreaming about. She decided to get out of her bed as her thoughts filled her mind and she needed a glass of water.

The last person Mileena would like to face on her way to the kitchens in the middle of the night was Jessica Atreides “You are not supposed to be wandering the hallways at this hour. It is dangerous” Mileena stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at her “Castle Atreides has great security. Besides, any fool would dare to attack me taking into account who was my master” The older Bene Gesserit let out a small laugh and nodded at her response “That is correct, it stills intrigued what are you doing awake at this hour? Another dream perhaps?” Mileena denied it with her head “I was reading some books Paul got me yesterday about Arrakis and the Fremen. I lost track of time and I decided to get a glass of water before going to bed”

Jessica knew she was lying. She knew the girl did not want to talk about her dreams anymore, this started when Mileena got older and realized the context in which she is. She needed answers to her questions and nobody would give them to her. She wished to know who her mother was, and why she is always dreaming about that place and that man. The Bene Gesserit preferred to keep these answers away from her as they could be a trouble to the plans they have for her. “I supposed I would not interfere in your way. It is good you are learning about the Fremen and Arrakis. We will be there in a few days and we need to be prepared. You know you can tell me anything, Mileena. I am here for you” The girl thanked her and continued on her way.

She hoped she could believe her as she did when she was younger, things would be easier for her.

Omg this is the first fic I’ever written and it's not even on my first language😭I hope you like it and if you don’t bye bye 🤫🧏🏽‍♀️