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Priestess | Sayyadina
Faith is falling in Sietch Tabr. Reverend Mother Ramallo has a solutionâ marrying Naib Stilgar to one of the Sayyadina, in order to greater connect the people and the spiritual way, and enable Lisan Al Gaibâs 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: Readerâs Sietch Name
Biet: Readerâs 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 Tabrâs Reverend Mother, before he heads back to the Sietch. Stilgar is not one to stay away from his people, his communityâ but for once in his life, itâs 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 thereâs 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 mightâve been in the past.
What Ramallo offered him is a subject matter he does not take lightly.Â
The sun is setting as Stilgar remembers their conversation from the previous hour.
/
âAs Sayyadina, as Reverend Mother, my honest recommendation is that the Northern Fremen need to replenish their numbers.â 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.
âThere 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.â Stilgar frowns. âSo many Fremen in the south, densely packed, is an easy way to be attacked. We could spread out more.â
âSave your war-speak for later, Stilgar.â Ramallo tuts, and then sighs a long, languid sigh that has Stilgar feeling much younger than he really is. âI donât mean simply bringing people here.â
Heâs 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 doesnât lose himself.  Â
âPlease. Tell me.â He asks, kneeling his head down in a solemn movement, and Ramallo knows heâs ready for this.
âThe youth of Sietch Tabr donât believe in our faith anymore, do they?â Ramallo wraps a gnarled finger around her wrist, feeling a minor form of trepidation she is sure real Bene Gesserit have never felt. âThey laugh when we speak of Lisan al Gaib.âÂ
âThey have not read the prophecy.â Stilgar swallows, unsure if he can really speak on this, when he regards himself as a humble follower. âThey laugh because they do not believe in the Mahdi to free us.â
Stilgar thinks of his niece, Chani, who suggests that a Fremen could be the Mahdi. He knows this canât be true, because he believes his people are fed-upâ it should have happened by now if one of them was truly possessed with that capability.
âSietch 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.â Ramallo fixes her cold, foggy pupils on Stilgar, the cloudy whites making the typical Fremen-blue appear more teal. He shivers at the idea.Â
âI want you, as Naib, our political leader, to take one of the Sayyadina as your wife. One of the lower priestesses.âÂ
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.Â
âIt would be a marriage between our religion and our people, a symbolic union. I believe our spirituality will be renewed.â Ramallo taps his hand. âIâm an old woman now. I cannot make as much as a difference as my younger sistersâ and you and I both know it is written that we must keep bearing children.âÂ
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 heâs unsure of what this has to do with having children with a Sayyadina in particular.Â
âIf you have children, especially with a Sayyadina, they are more likely to be faithful. Perhaps we cannot convert the others,â Ramallo grits her teeth. âBut I believe we can start anew.â
/
Stilgar knows he cannot force himself on any of the Sayyadina. Itâs bad enough that they cannot say no to the Reverend Motherâs command, especially with that shocking, unnerving Voice she uses, so he would much rather let one of them pick him. Yes, thatâs what heâll doâ walk into the temple, and let them approach him.
He just hopes heâs not too old, too ugly, too entwined with his role as Naib. He wonders if thatâs why women havenât necessarily been interested in himâ 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 himâ he still thinks he could be Lisan al Gaib. But either way, Lady Jessica did not want to be connected to him like thatâ 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.
/
Youâre chewing on your bottom lip, knowing that itâs a needless thing to doâ a waste of water, now, that a drop of blood has been drawn from where you have accidentally split your lipâ and you canât help yourself.
Reverend Mother Ramallo grasped you and your sistersâ hands during prayer this morning, and told you that Stilgar would choose one of you as his wife.
Itâs 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, yesâ but youâve always studied under Ramallo and assumed that you would not have to.
You know the Bene Gesseritâ as far away as they are to youâ form alliances like this with men, and itâs an honourable thing, typically, to produce a child from a union and continue on a legacy of people. Itâs with that line of thinking that you asked Ramallo if this is what you were meant to follow.
âSahar.â 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. âSmarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Yes, like our fellow priestesses, we too can create children for the sacred purpose of replacement.â
You smiled, but Ramallo had a slightly weary look in her eyes.
âI donât 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.â
You nodded, and whispered a silent prayer that hopefully soon he would be found, and that in itself would be enough to push people.
/Â Â Â
So now you wait. You know Stilgarâ youâve conversed with him before, in lunch circles, at the deathstill. He was kind enoughâ 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. Youâve heard women murmur about their surprise on his lack of a wife, and how theyâd be grateful to take him, if they got the chance. You donât disagreeâ you know youâve 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 youâll 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 youâve had little-to-no experience with men.
Itâs not that it wasnât allowed, youâve always been preoccupied with your faith. With the Reverend Mother.
You know how Fremen men, especially warrior men like Stilgar would be. They have appetitesâ your fellow Sayyadina sister Nezua tells you about all her crazy endeavours, while you listen somewhat enviously. Thereâs 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 reasonâ but you feel selfish and wonder if it is because, as a priestess, youâve had special treatment until now.
Nezua walks into your quarters, and taps your shoulder.Â
âYes?â
âHeâs outside.â She takes your hand. âDonât worry, Sahar. I am sure he will not pick one of usâ he will probably pick Ranira. She barely wants to be Sayyadina.â
âBut isnât that against the point?â You squeeze your hands together. âFor a union between faith and peopleââÂ
âCâmon, Sahar. Donât tell me you really believe that.â She rolls her eyes. âWhoever ends up being Stilgarâs wife will probably be in his house most of the time, âprayingâ, but really just dutifully waiting for him.âÂ
âI supposeâŚâ You donât want to tell Nezua that sheâs wrong. That Stilgar is more devout than she thinks, that heâs not a cheat looking for a free wife to use while pretending to care about the faith.Â
Stilgar has always come to the temple to pray, even when it is not necessary for a man of his standing to do soâ 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 wouldnât do that if he had some sort of ulterior motive, as other less honourable men have in the past.
Itâs 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 sistersâ the current number of high priestesses directly under Ramalloâ 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 canât help but have his eyes drawn towards to you. Not just because youâre beautifulâ you are, though, with the eyes of Ibad, deep blue pupils, a wise, judicial expression upon your faceâ 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 donât 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 isnât whatâs necessary for this arrangement.
âHello, sisters.â He smiles in a firm, thin line, meant to be placating to those around him. âI believe you know why Iâm here. I hope this will not be an uncomfortable process for us all.â
He takes another look at you. No, youâre simply⌠youâre taking him in. And Stilgar decides thatâs 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.Â
Youâre gauging his reactions, trying to read if heâs more of a rascal than he lets onâ 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 heâs going to pick you.
âSayyadinaââ He points to you so thereâs no confusion, and your sisters appear as neutral as they can, while you read micro-expressions of either relief or disappointment. âI would like to speak to you on this matter.â
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 thatâ thereâs a slight twinge in his eyes that makes you feel easily drawn to him.
âWhy me, Naib?â You ask, and Stilgar stares at you for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away to stare at the architecture of the temple.Â
âYou have a knowing look in your eyes, Sayyadina.â He responds in turn to your use of Naibâ 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.
âSo you picked the most shrewd of us, is that it?â You wrinkle your nose in a slight laugh, but then actually grin as Stilgar laughs.
âOne 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.â He explains this so clearly, you were not even entirely aware that you were doing such a thing.Â
âIt only makes sense to do so, Naib. I could not just stand there and allow you to do all the decision making.â You admit with tact, so not to drive him away.
He nods. âThat is why you will be a great one.â
Stilgar seems comfortable with you already, and yet his expression takes a pained look for a moment.Â
âIt's for that reason I do not want to force you into this⌠uh, arrangement.â He admits, and you are taken aback for just a moment, just a slight gasp.
âWhat makes you think I donât want to be your wife?â 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. Heâs here only in the most professional of terms. Donât complicate this with your idiotic feelings, you still have a job to do.
âI just meant thatâ it would be an honour to be associated with you, Naib.â You keep your head tilted downwards, trying your best to be the reverent Sayyadina youâre known as.
âOf course.â He swallows, unsure if youâve suddenly become shy, or that youâve decided to be more cunningâ 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 youâre willing to be with him.
âOkay, Sayyadina. If youâll have me as your husband, then,â 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. âWe will have our engagement arranged soon.â
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 donât think youâre too in love with him alreadyâ 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 placeâ 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 tabaraâ the soft sweet cake made of tabaroot, honey, and spice, rich and sweet in flavour, adorned with fruit. Itâs a rarity in Arrakis, since a few of the fruit come from offworld tradersâ so he gives you his portion and you two argue over this, before Stilgar eventually puts his foot down as Naib.
âYou should accept. Extra portions go towards those who need it, not me.â Stilgar says, ever the humble one as youâve come to know him.
âExcept this isnât an extra portion, is it? Sayyadina arenât supposed to indulge so much, leaders like you may deserve it as you do such hard work.â You taunt him, knowing that youâre both so similarâ you could argue forever with Stilgar because youâre equally as willing to sacrifice things for each other.
Great leaders, indeed.
âSayyadina, donât make me remind you how important your creed is.â He tuts, and you find yourself simmering with attraction to himâ you are beginning to look forward to these conversations more and more everyday. âYour work is just as importantâ donât do a disservice to your life just for me, okay?â
The people around you shift in their spots on the floor, to listen more closely, and you recognize that although you and Stilgar grow closerâ the intended effect is taking place. People are supportive either way.
Maybe you donât 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 youâre just a person as well.
He places the piece of cake in your bowl again. âAccept it as a gift, Sayyadina.â
You smile up at him, squeeze his hand without thinking. âOkay, Naib. Thank you.â
/
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 oneâ 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 wereâ 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.
Usulâ Paul, at this moment, with his lack of focusâ cannot stop staring at Chani while she practices sparring with her friend.
âUsul. Usul.â Stilgar shakes his shoulder, and Paul finally tears his gaze away. âYouâre too distracted, my friend.â
âIâm sorry, Stilgar.â Ever the charming, young lad, Paul smiles placatingly towards Stilgar, and even he is too struck by his charisma to avoid it. âIâm here. Iâm ready.â
âPlease, tell me what bothers you.â Stilgar knows, already, as Paul stares down at his hands, that the boy has eyes for his overly tenacious niece. âIs it a matter of the heart?â
âYes.â Paul exhales. âItâs not important right now. How did you know?â
Stilgar smiles reproachfully. âI⌠I suppose I should tell you honestly, before the others get to know.â
It strikes Paul that the Fremen trust him so readilyâ 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 purposeâ that he will use these people for his own benefit.
Stilgar interrupts his line of thought. âSoon, I am to be married to one of the priestesses.â
Paul grins. âAh, Stilgar, you rogue. Youâre distracted, too.â
âYes.â 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 somethingâ 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 momentâ itâs not just a silly, girlish fantasy, itâs something that everyone will see and know as a tangible union.
You haven't got any time to see himâ Stilgar has been away with other Feydakin, no doubt unleashing hell on Harkonnen troopsâ 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 marriageâ 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.
âYou know he hasnât come this far without his own talent.â Nezua reminds you, as she watches you peer up, blinking in the sunlight. âHeâs not Naib for no reason, Sahar.â
All priestessesâ both low and highâ 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 youâre 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 curiosityâ 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.Â
Ten minutes later, after praying and hoping, Stilgar returns over the sunrise, victorious in battle, and you feel he looks exhaustedâ 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.
Thereâs something sweet and endearing hereâ almost innocent in how he looks at you, as if heâs been waiting to see you again just as long as you have. But you quickly remind yourself that this moment is not just yoursâ it would be considered somewhat heartless by other Fremen if Stilgar did not appear to like you, and by extension, the whole marriageâs point would fail.
âSayyadinaââ 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. âI ask you to be married to me, by nightfall.â
âSo soon?â You ask, wondering why he would want to do it so early.
âIt cannot wait much longer. Reverend Mother Ramallo is not well.â He tells you, and your heart sinks, wondering why your dear reverend mother has not told you about this.
Youâve seen the signsâ she struggles with fine motor skills and often her cataracts make it difficult to see anythingâ but you are still surprised.
âOkay.â You swallow, and then smile up at him, and he squeezes your cheek in a fond gesture that makes you feel heat rise there.  Â
âWe will be wed tonight.â 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 outâ itâs 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 itâs not wrong to genuinely have feelings in this arrangementâ you just hope Stilgar feels the same way.
Chani grins at you. You know her wellâ youâre around the same age, youâve grown up somewhat togetherâ and you wonder if she feels odd about her uncle marrying you.
âNo, if it means I can call you Auntie, Iâm happy.â She jokes, and you shove her as she laughs.
Chani rarely laughs like this as of late. Sheâs always so hard on herselfâ 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 sheâd be more careful as a warrior. As a freedom fighter, Chani sometimes lacks restraintâ so youâre grateful to see her happy.
âWell, maybe some day youâll be married, too.â You squeeze her hand. âTo a great warrior.â
âI donât know, Biet.â Chani calls you your Fremen name, not your Sietch one, which will be used tonight at the wedding. âLet us focus on you for now.â
âI just⌠I donât know if he feels the way I do.â You suddenly admit, and the fear that youâre still going to be lonely crops up.Â
Chani shakes her head, that hard, tough scowl on her face back again. âIf thereâs one thing I know about my uncle, itâs that heâs not an idiot.âÂ
She presses her cheek to yours. âDonât 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.â
You smile softly at that, thinking of how ardently Stilgar looks at you now, how youâve 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 youâre willing to serve a greater purpose, or something more? You know itâs selfish, but you want him to like you. To love you.Â
âEverybody knows, even MuadâDib.â
At the mention of MuadâDib, you canât ignore the slight tension in your spine. Both you and Stilgar have discussed your belief in his abilities, his potential to be the oneâ but you know that Chani does not share that.
Still, you hear a slight shift in Chaniâs tone as she says his name, and you give her a glance.
âYou like him, I think.â You tease, and she tells you to shut up in Chakobsa.
You wonder if MuadâDib was the one who shared this information to his mother, which would make her dislike of you understandable. You get the sense sheâs power-hungry, terrifyingâ she wouldâve 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 Gesseritâ 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 youâve been taught to believe from a young age.
Youâre no Chani.
/
The dark of the night spreads across Arrakis.
Stilgar begins the trek up the dune, where you wait, bathed in the moonlightâ youâre 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 hillâ and itâs not a distraction, because heâs meant to be here with you.
He likes you a lotâ thereâs a taut feeling in his throat, as he realizes heâs watched countless friends and family members get married, but never thought of himself as one of themâ and in the past, Stilgar had always felt there was something wrong with him for not marrying sooner. But now, heâs so thankful he waited, because itâs you. His holy, veiled priestess.
You share his faith, after allâ but over the last few weeks heâs seen that you share his judgement, too. He only hopes that his feelings will be returned some day and that he wonât scare you offâ 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 Chakobsaâ old marriage passages from the faith, hymns that are sacred in their meaningâ 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 dictatesâ to not leave you behind. You know she cares for you so deeply, as sheâs 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 donât hear a hint of irony or lying in his tone.
Maybe this isnât just a marriage of political nature.
Ramallo yells in Chakobsa, using the Voice: âIt is finished!â
/
Celebrations are loud, jovial, necessary after the Fremen endured hardship from the Harkonnen. People are dancing, eating, congratulating you.
Youâre happy to receive their blessings, and give them back if they wish to hear it from you. Youâre still a Sayyadina, and today of all days, you bring especially good luck to them.
Paul Atreides walks forward after Nezua dipsâ sheâs kissed you on your cheek and solemnly stated sheâll miss you at the temple bedroomsâ and youâre intrigued, as youâve never spoken to him before.
âMuadâdib!â Stilgar is next to you, and he shakes his hands, clapping his shoulder, and Paul hugs him.
âStilgar, Bietââ Paulâs eyes cross towards you, and you donât sense the same plotting look his mother has. âCongratulations. Itâs so interesting to witness a Fremen marriage. I feel like Iâve learned so much just watching. I did not know Sayyadina could use the Voice, as well. Impressive.â
You think heâs rather compassionate, but thereâs no telling if itâs an act. You ignore thatâ youâre meant to be happy now.
âThank you.â You gently squeeze his hand. âI donât use it oftenâ I believe it should necessitate a purpose.â
âAs do I.â 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.
âIn coming times, maybe you too will marry in our way.â You make as an offhand comment, so not to overtly reveal your surprise.
Paul is mildly surprised by this, but he doesnât look displeased with that. âMaybe. I think many women here are quite beautiful, they could probably pick a noble Feydakin than someone like me.â
âIn time, Muadâdib, you may be a Feydakin too. You have the strength to be one.â Stilgar corrects him, and you like that your husband is so forthcoming, a true mentor that supports everyone.
âBesides, youâll need to be one if you want to impress Chani.â You input, and Stilgar looks a little taken aback by this development, while Paul looks more interested.
âReally? You think Chani and IâŚâ Paul swallows down whatever heâs going to say, looking suddenly a bit darker and worried. âI would be lucky if she considered me.â
Paul bids you two goodbye, while Stilgar laughs. âA humble one, isnât he?â
âBetter that than overly boastful.â You hum. âEither way, I hope he is not perpetuating a false image.â
Stilgar agrees.Â
As the party dies down, he takes your hand, and together, you walk back to Stilgarâs quarters.
/
Heâs rather quiet as he sits on his bedding, cracking his knuckles.
Stilgar is not afraid of you, exactlyâ heâs afraid of what your relationship should or should not be. He does not know the boundaries in which you two operate, and heâs afraid once he opens that conversation up, of your potential rejection.Â
Other men would tell him that as your wife, there should be no confusionâ 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 haveâ and he needs to know if you feel the same way, if you donât just want this marriage to be symbolic in nature.
âSayyadina,â 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. Youâre his wife, and you still call on some level of respect. Maybe because youâre afraid of acting on these feelings you haveâ a hunger for closenessâ 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 everâ you let yourself hope.
âIâll ask you this once, and make your answer clear, so I do not bother you otherwise.â Stilgar pauses, wanting to be sensitive about this subject. He doesnât know exactly what youâre comfortable with. âI want to know if you want to be more than wife in name, or if your heart is drawn to being within your faith.â
âWho says I canât be both, Stilgar?â You bite your lip, and Stilgarâs face stiffens. âThereâs nothing in our faith that says a priestess canât have both.â
âThatâs not what I meant.â He pauses, grappling with what to say.
âI donât want to be a burden to you.â He says, and you laugh, for real this time, a louder laugh than heâs heard before, and he grins, liking the twinkling sound of it, but then frowns. âIâm being serious. You should not have to lie with me just for everyone elseâs benefit. The marriage has brought people to greater spirits, already.â
âWhat if itâs for my benefit?â You speak in a hushed tone, but Stilgar listens to every word, inching closer to you. âWhat if I feel more spiritual when Iâm next to you? I feel the Makerâs 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.â
Stilgar is taken aback by your boldness, and so are you to some degree, but you continue. âIâve been ignoring this the last few weeks, but I think thatâs what love is. What is faith without love? I think I love you, because you make me understand what Iâve been missingâŚâ You smile up at him. âYouâre my greater context, Stilgar.â
Ah, He thinks. This woman is too sweet to me. She understands.
âSayyadinaâŚâ He sighs, a deep shuddering sigh revealing so much emotion; relief, really. Youâve never seen Stilgar like this, but it gives you a sense of how much he represses. âYou feel like the missing piece Iâve been waiting for. You⌠you donât know how long Iâve been waiting for a woman that understands me.â
âI never thought I could have the chance to love anyone,â He admits with some reservation. âMy appearance tends to ward women away.â
âBut youâre beautiful.â 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. âYouâre only intimidating because of who you are, Stilgar, but I promise, youâre beautiful. Iâm not the only woman who thinks that.â
Before he can respond in turn, that youâre more beautiful than him, the stubbornness that you two shareâ you let that unspoken urge inside you, the one youâve 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 yearsâ 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. Thereâs a hard bulge in his pants that youâre sitting squarely upon, you know what that isâ youâre 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.
âSayyadinaâ wait, slow down.â He holds your wrists in his hands firmly, the heat of the moment causing both of you to sweat. The night air seeps through Stilgarâs windowâ hot and humid.
Youâve never wanted to be closer to him.
âIâm a little inexperienced. I donât want to hurt you.â He explains, and you scoff.
âSo am I.â You tell him. âActually, Iâve neverâŚâ
âOh.â Stilgar takes on a very judicial look, one that youâre determined to stop before he rejects you for the âgreater goodâ or something like that. âI wouldâve never guessed that. You gave me the impression of expertise.â
âThen let me gain it.â You proclaim, and you cut him off before he says what you know he will. âYouâre not forcing me into anything. I want to do this, just like I wanted to marry you.â
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 legsâ he feels you moan and shudder when he squeezes your thighs. He loves this, and when he starts removing your dressâ you donât stop him.
He pulls it down and under you, and youâre bare underneath. Stilgar examines your breasts with admirationâ theyâre the perfect size, they fit you wellâ 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 Stilgarâs pantsâ so much quicker than youâre 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.
Youâre not completely sure what heâs doing, and you feel slightly vulnerable like thisâ entirely on display for him.
âLet me drink from you, Sayyadina. I would be honoured by this blessingâ I thirst, and it would not be a waste.â He says in hushed tones, as he kneels in front of you, and you feel yourself slicken more if thatâs 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 youâll stay with open legs for himâ 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, youâre 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 donât want that, anyways. And you finish in his mouth with a flourish as Stilgar laps up what youâve given himâ a drink from a Sayyadina.
You think heâs done, but you lean back with another sighâ a near scream, reallyâ as Stilgar begins to lick at your clitoris, suckling on it, until youâre wet and aching againâ and then he uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and begins to fuck you with his tongue. Itâs amazing, wet and writhing and and filthyâ 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 consideredâ but you feel high, you feel like youâre closer to the Maker than everâ and he suckles at you, his lips closing around your entrance as you moan again and orgasm directly into his mouth.
Stilgar groans. Heâs in love with your tasteâ he thinks he might wake you up every morning like this, if youâll let him. Heâs also painfully hard nowâ his cock strains against his pants, and he quickly starts undressing. Â
âSorry. I needed a second taste.â Stilgar apologizes, standing up, but heâs 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 fingersâ youâre so warm, soft, wetâ he needs to be in you.
Youâre beginning to feel overstimulatedâ youâre covered in sweat, and in between your thighs youâre soaked, practically dripping all over Stilgarâs hand as he continues to work youâ and you twitch as you sit up, Stilgarâs 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, youâre drawn to it. You like how he looks partially nakedâ vulnerable like you, but warmer, soft and hard in different placesâ and you reach to take his shirt off, letting his full self be unsheathed.
And you like thisâ 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.Â
You sink around him easilyâ you moan against his neck as you doâ and Stilgar bottoms out, feeling you grip and tighten around him. Â
After what feels like an eternityâ both of you drunk on just being intertwined in such a wayâ he lifts you up again, thrusting outwards, and then back in, pushing you down on his cock, slamming into you. Stilgarâs warrior strength comes into play hereâ 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 donât care. You moan loudly, almost yelling as Stilgarâs cock twitches and catches inside you in a place so deep, youâve never touched it yourself.Â
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 thereâ 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 Stilgarâs pleasure, and you moan as Stilgarâs 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. âMay Shai-Hulud allow us to do this again.â
/
Stilgar has to leave again, the next morning, as more Fremen are involved in fighting Harkonnen harvesters, and he wants to oversee this.
âIâm sorry, SayyadinaâŚâ He swallows. He doesnât want to leave you behindâ if he could take you along on his back, he would.Â
âSahar.â You tell him.
âWhat was that?â He asks, and you wrap your arms around him and his stillsuit, dressed in your traditional Sayyadina dressings again.
âSahar is my Sietch name. My sacred name, only for my sisters to know.â You explain, although youâre sure Stilgar knows this. He only knows your Fremen name, after all. âSince weâre marriedâ I thought you should know my true name.â
âSahar is a wonderful name⌠meaning morning.â Stilgar looks out the window with a slight smile. âBut you outdo any of Arrakisâ sunrises, my dear.â
You laugh at that, as Stilgar knew you would.Â
âYou will still be Sayyadina to me, no matter what name you have.â He says, and thereâs 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.
âOh Shai-Hulud⌠keep Stilgar safe from unwarranted danger today.â You whisper in Chakobsa, closing your eyes, and Stilgar closes his eyes too. âDo not risk his life.â
Your harsh, suddenly grating tone from using the Voice has Stilgar opening his eyes again. He has never heard you use it before.
âThank you.â He pulls you up for a soft, parting kissâ and then after memories of last night echo inside his mindâ he gives you a firmer, lingering kiss, laden with love for you.
/
Stilgar finds that despite his obvious devotion in his commitment to youâ 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 hasnât forgotten you, not so soon. He knows you two are two sides of the same coinâ meant to be.
This was not meant to be an outcome. He sees Feydakin women smiling at him, maybe a little too muchâ 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 youâre 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 Motherâ 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, thatâs the image sheâs 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 sheâs 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.
/
Itâs Nezua who saw what happened.
She interrupts your prayer, your first prayer after returning to the temple, sanctimonious as it is.
âSahar, please donât be upset. Just hear me out.â She pulls you into the main hall, where your sisters and Ramallo are reading ancient texts.
âWhat is it? Whatâs happened?â You look around wildly.Â
Nezuaâs deep blue eyes blink, as she wonders what to tell you, how to say it gracefully.
âI saw him. Naib. Standing close to that woman, to Lady Jessicaâ she cried about becoming a Reverend Motherâ he stroked her face, licking a tear away.â Nezua admits, and you instantly blink back sudden tears.
âBut heââ
âMen can be rascals, Sahar.â Nezua reprimands you, and you swallow, knowing you donât know as much as her.
You do know about Jessica, though.
âShe has been eyeing him for a while⌠Iâve watched it happen. Sheâs 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.â You shake your head. âHe wouldnât do that for no reasonâ sheâs very convincing. And Stilgar supports everyone, why would he doubt her?â
Nezua calms down a bit.
âBut if he wanted to marry her?â Ramallo suddenly chimes in, and you and your sisters watch as she speaks, suddenly convinced of something. âWould 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.â
âGreat Mother, you picked me for that purpose.â You speak up, almost immediately, without fear. You donât care if youâre speaking out of turnâ you do not want to share Stilgar, lose him to some other womanâ and here it seems everyone else is okay with it.
âYes, and youâve done well, but you of all people should want us to do better.â 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 canât it just be you and Stilgar?
âOnce Jessica drinks the Water of Life, she will be a powerful Reverend Motherâ all of Arrakis may be swayed by her.â Ramallo peers at your expression. âDonât tell me you feel something as foolish as love, Sahar.â
âAnd if I do?â You state, blatantly.
âThen you must be loving enough to see that this would improve Stilgarâs life by far. Men may take multiple wives, you know that.â Ramallo tuts. âPerhaps youâre not as clever as I once thought.â
âHe wonât do it. He knows that his love helps me, and as long as thatâs in his prioritiesâŚâ Your voice dies down, feeling like everything is falling apart as you speak.
âYes, and how long will he care for a lower priestess when he can have a Reverend Mother? Especially one as faithful as him.â Ramallo shakes her head at your ignorance.
âShut up! Youâve never felt love, you unspeakable witchââ 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 itâs mark on your cheekâ and she hisses at you.
âInsolent 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.â 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.
âPerhaps, if he marries Jessica, it will only be a marriage in name.â She tries, but you shake your head. âYou would be the one he really loves, Sahar.â
âOr I would be like a concubineâ there to produce children, nothing more.â You think of how quickly you leapt into Stilgarâs 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. âI need to speak to him.â
/
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.
âSayyadina, I did not expect you back so soon.â He touches your hand, but based on how you draw yourself back, he knows something is wrong. âWhat is it?â
âYou want Jessica. Right? To be your wife?â You say, and he shakes his head.
âWe discussed it onceââ and your stomach drops at that. âBut it would have only been a marriage of convenience to protect her, long ago. Nothing more.â
âThen what happened today, in the deathstill?â You ask, and Stilgar furrows his brows.
âI only relayed Ramalloâs message to her. And she was a bit sad, so I comforted her, thatâs all. She almost wasted some water by crying, so I drank it.â Stilgar sits down on the ground next to you. âI promise you, I do not want her.â
âEven if sheâs a reverend mother? Closer to your faith? Easier to perpetuate ourââ Here you stutter. âThe mission?â
âWhoa, whoa.â He softens visibly. âSayyadina, if you cannot see now that I love you, tell me how to right that wrong.â
âTell me why you believe youâll stick with meââ You tear up again and wipe it away. âTell me you wonât leave me.âÂ
âI have no interest in Jessicaâ she is a conniving one, but whatever she thinks may happen, it will not.â He shrugs. âI donât believe she loves me or wants me in that way, eitherâ she still mourns her duke.â
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 donât think you wouldâve ever left Stilgar even if he had married Jessicaâ but youâre suddenly more understanding of her pain, to be the one not known in any collected record despite being loved.
âI only did anything I could to make her feel more comfortable with her new role.â Stilgar grins. âAnd if she succeedsâ the faith will have more people interested in it, and there will be less pressure on us.â
âThatâs true.â 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.
âWhatâs this?â Stilgar gently touches you, and he gets angry hearing you hiss.
âNothing, just a silly altercation.â You explain, but heâs not satisfied with that.
âWith who?â
âAh⌠Ramallo slapped me after I said she would never understand love.â Suddenly youâre ashamed, and you feel as if Stilgar would be disappointed in you. âShe said the best thing would be if you married Jessicaâ and I guess I⌠I didnât want to lose you, so I used the Voice on her.â âYou did?â Stilgar raises his eyebrows, in surprise that youâd do such a thing, make a rash judgement like that against your elder. âIâm sorry youâre hurt.â
You lean into his touch, feeling better that heâs not angry at you.
âBut I am sorry I wasnât there to see you take ownership of me.â He laughs quietly. âYou really love me that much? Then Iâm only yours.â
You smile so hard at thatâ massive relief flowing through your nervesâ and Stilgar kisses your bruise, before kissing your lips and making you feel whole again.
#stilgar x reader#stilgar x you#stilgar#dune x reader#dune x you#dune part two#dune part 2#dune 2#dune 2024#x reader#dune#dune movie#javier bardem#chani kynes#ramallo#reverend mother#paul atreides#bene gesserit#sayyadina#lady jessica#writing#fic writing#fanfic#fiction#angst#fluff#smut#stilgar fluff#stilgar angst#stilgar smut
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Dune: Part Two (2024) âIâll cross the storms with youâ
#whumpedit#duneedit#dune part 2#dune part two#whump#paul atriedes#chani#timothee chalamet#zendaya#angst#fear#tears#one lone tear#face touching#comfort#support#emotional whump#my gifs#guess who just watched this movie!#it was an EXPERIENCE⌠sad i couldnât watch it in the theaters#anyways i give it 10/10#inject âpaul x chani relationship into my veins STAT
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i'm thinking about chani as written by denis villeneuve and the idea of the greek chorus. the members the chorus are meant to explain the messages the audience is meant to take away from the play, or to provide the average person's perspective on everything that takes place. and isn't that the exact kind of role that villeneuve has said he wants chani to fill? her role is that of the true moral compass, here to hammer home the reminder that paul is not and will not be morally sanctified by the narrative and that ultimately villeneuve's dune is about how paul's good intentions cannot excuse or codone his actions. villeneuve has assigned chani the role of the greek chorus and if you don't listen to her and use her as your frame of reference for understanding the film as intended, you're not watching dune properly.
#chani is the best change from the books hands down#so glad she gets to be an actual person not just paul's source of babies and angst#chani kynes#chani#denis villeneuve#dune#dune series#dune movie#dune part 1#dune part one#dune 1#dune 2021#dune 2#dune part 2#dune part two#dune 2024#meta#dune meta#paul atreides#paul
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My take on a Kaidan Alenko suffering from amnesia fic. Didnât actually go in the direction I had originally intended but Iâm still very happy with it.
Summary: When Kaidan almost gets his head bashed in on Mars he wakes up not remembering the last two years of his life and that includes all of his time with one Commander Shepard.
#male shepard#kaidan alenko#mshenko#Memory Loss fic#angst with a happy ending#fanfic#self rec#Chani writes#wobbly ME timeline#au canon divergence
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// Colours by Halsey //
#went with the movie canon of how fremen women wear blue when in love and how chani just loses her little blue bandana in the end as a#metaphor to how she loses paul#a bit of paul x chani angst#dune#dune edit#paul x chani#paul atreides#chani kynes#dune part two#dune 2024
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It's 2AM. I was listening to Rok Nardin's The Mad Queen, which made me think of Dune, which made me write this. Only Paul and Chani appear in this and it's from Chani's POV. There is stabbing and angst, so be warned. Also Dune (Messiah) spoilers, I think.
I stare at him as I push my crysknife further between his ribs. The grip he has around my wrist loosens as I push him against the wall. The corner of my lip curls into a small grin. He always called me his, but I didn't feel like his. Not when all he cares about is power.
It feels good. It's like all the sand in my stillsuit has been removed. He slowly gives out, sliding against the wall to the ground. His breathing is rapid, yet irregular. Why can't he just die? He always manages to survive. I will make sure he won't this time. All he brought to my people was pain. He took away my family, my home, my culture. Arrakis isn't the same anymore. We should've taken his water when we had the chance.
His hold on my wrist is weak but firm, as if he is hanging off a cliff. I see it slowly moving to my hand.
"My desert spring..." he chokes out. I look up from our hands and see his blue within blue eyes water. His eyes. I know them too well. They would protect me when I felt scared. They would comfort me when I felt sad. They would understand me when I felt misled. They would adore me, even when I was at my absolute worst. I still remember the brown warm eyes he had during his first few weeks in desert. We were so young and free. Even during the storms. What I would give to go back...
I will love you as long as I breath. Did he really? Does he now as I'm taking his last breath. No. Ofcourse not. He doesn't love. He only desires. I look at him again. Droplets stream down his face, his hair is a mess on top of his head. I thought I would enjoy this. But seeing the face that I would comfort after a nightmare makes it miserable. I could pull out the crysknife and let him bleed to death. Walk away as Muadib reaches his end. Yet, I don't. Why is it so hard to let go? I feel suddenly frightened. What am I without my family, home or culture? What am I without my people? The only one I had was Usul, who was killed by his Harkonnen family, only existent in memory.
Usul loved Sihaya, while Muadib needed Chani.
"Usul, I'm scared," Chani mutters. She holds his hand that had been clinging onto her wrist. "Stay with me?"
"Always."
#rok nardin's music is insanely dramatic its a great source of inspiration#i recommened it especially when you're tryinf to write angst/drama and action and horror#and usul and sihaya are paul and chani's secret names fyi#i still think about this movie#dune#dune part two#dune fanfiction#writeblr#writing#fanfiction
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Micro story for "drastic" with character of choice
âI canât believe all youâve done! And made me a concubine?! You are Awful Paul!â Chani said
Paul looked at Chani
âLook Chani Iâm sorry for all this but you have to understand this will be good.â
âYou love me I know you do but you doing all this still hurts. Itâs too drastic and dangerous regardless.â
âThis is my golden path Chani I have found my way.â
Chani sighed softly
âPaul please.â
âChani I have no choice.â
Chani missed the boy she knew and she was so childish to want him back.
She hoped his visions wouldnât come true
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Š photo/gif is mine, do not take or repost please
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dandelions [3k] youngbin, inseong, one shot
He looked at them, enraged, the vibrant yellow color stinging his eyes, and he wished to tear them apart into pieces.
If Dandelions used to be his favorites, he now loathed them more than anything.
do you do nudes? [10,5k] dawon, chani, one shot
âDo you do nudes too?â he ends up asking, genuine.
The younger tries, probably hopes, to find any funny undertones in his voice. It is what he has grown to knowing the man, but he quickly gives up. He is serious.
Chanhee sighs, and puts down his pencil on top of his artbook.
âFirst of all -â
Make A Move Series
a breathless mess [4,4k] zuho, rowoon,
Juho finally decided to make his move and ask Seokwoo on a date. Only for his original idea to not go exactly as planned.
the cafeteria's sandwich [8,5k] yoo taeyang, hwiyoung, chani
Youngkyun has a crush on Taeyang, but Chanhee is in the way. It's okay though.
bestfriends and more [8,5k] inseong, dawon
First and most important rule is to make sure you donât catch feelings. Sanghyuk apparently can never, for the love of God, stick to the rules.
In his defense, there was no such rule to begin with.
reminisce about all [6,6k] youngbin, jaeyoon
Five years ago they made a decision together. Five years from then, they make an entirely different decision. Again, together.
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#sf9 au#sf9 masterlist#sf9 rowoon#sf9 dawon#sf9 inseong#sf9 youngbin#sf9 jaeyoon#sf9 zuho#sf9 taeyang#sf9 hwiyoung#sf9 chani#sf9 fanfic#alternate universe#fantasy#established relationship#shapeshifter#intimacy#idiots in love#fluff#light angst#angst with a happy ending#angst
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The Emperor's Wife// Paul Atreides
Warnings: angst, unrequited love, slow burn kinda
"That princess shall have no more of me than my name. No child of mine nor touch nor softness of glance, nor instant of desire." The promise of Paul Atreides as he ascended your father's throne was held true for some time. But his words began to falter in time, against his will.
He married you, but remained loyal to his concubine, Chani. But he did acknowledge that you had a literary nature, and he entrusted you to sit in on his council meetings as Emperor. The more time you spent around each other, the more you became companions, and the more he relied on your mind to help him keep a balance of things.
You noticed as Paul started to become more relaxed around you. He'd even have a laugh with you now and then. It was clear that he valued your friendship as much as your ability to write and make sense of things.
One day Paul joked that Chani was his wife of passion and you were his intellectual wife. Your feelings had started to form into deep admiration for your husband, so his words were course against your ears. Though you knew that this was the way it had to be, it wasn't any easier to hear him say it.
But there was a look from him, a look where he scanned you, slowly, from head to toe. Your special training had kicked in. You could feel it; it was desire. He thought his momentary glance would go undetected, but that was nary the case.
All the late evenings in the council room, all the discussions you had about history and his interest in your writings, it all bubbled up to his vow being broken. You caught his gaze in a meeting later, and his green eyes could no longer lie to you. He was curious and desirous of you. But he could not do anything about it. He simply could not act on it.
But you, on the other hand, were tired of the intellectual relationship. This feeling was different for you, and you never expected to fall for him. Your body ached, your skin burned for your husband. Even if it was just once, you had to have him.
You hated to admit to yourself the jealousy you felt toward his Fremen woman. You wanted to feel what Chani felt. Just one full moment of Paul's desire. You needed his touch. To exchange passionate breaths with him. To have the weight of the handsome Emperor on top of you. To have his eyes on you, and only you.
..........
You ventured to Paul's sietch, into the private apartment he shared with Chani. The Fremen in the village knew you, so they did not try to stop you, or persuade you to leave. They welcomed you with respect, as you were indeed MuadâDibâs wife.
The room was quite plain and modest for an Emperor and his woman. The bed, however, looked cozy with glow globes on either side. The scent of cinnamon and coffee hung in the air, laced with the spice melange.
You hoped he'd come soon. You hoped he would be the first one in, and not Chani. You didn't know what to say to her, if that would be the case. She had always been pleasant toward you when you were around her, but you didnât know if her attitude would remain the same if she knew you wanted to bed her man.
You hoped that he wouldn't be harsh towards you; that he wouldnât be angry about you invading the space he shared with his concubine. You liked to think that you had broken his walls and exposed the tender side of him. You sat on the bed, waiting.
Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, there was a tired huff from the person outside the door, and you knew the voice instantly. Paul came in, pulling off his still suit the second he entered. He didn't see you at first. You saw his shoulders and chest as he rid himself of the rubbery material. He was strong, with hard muscles and pale skin with minor scars here and there.
You could smell the dirt and sweat that he carried. It did not deter you in the slightest, but made you more eager.
He could sense you there. You knew he could.
âWhat are you doing here?â he asked, without even turning to face you.
You took a shaky breath, then answered, "I wanted to see you, Paul."
He finished freeing his arms from the constrictive suit, turning to look at you sitting on his bed. "And why?"
You were excited just seeing his shoulders, but now you saw his naked chest, his hard pectoral muscles and small nipples. You nearly shuddered with need. "I-uhm," I want you. "I wanted to make sure that you saw how bright and beautiful the two moons look this evening. And maybe you'd like to see my latest Muad'Dib chronicle?"
Paul nodded, "Hm." He stepped over to the window, looking up at the moons, "They are quite beautiful tonight."
You rose from the bed, joining him by the window. You could really feel his presence now, as you usually didn't get quite this close to him. His scent was stronger, too. "I brought my latest writings. If you want to read."
"Sure. You may leave them here."
He was so polite, but never overly kind. He couldn't disrespect Chani. But you so wanted things to change between you and your husband.
"Paul, I really came here to talk to you about something."
He took his eyes off the night sky outside his window and looked into your eyes. "Go on."
Your heart started thumping in your chest, you cleared your throat. "Well, I do not wish to overstep, but I think you and I have both come to enjoy our time together. I think it is safe to say that we are good friends now." You got stuck for second as you got a close look of the sweat glistening on his skin in the glowing light of the dark room.
Paul softly smiled, giving you a nod to keep going.
"But, I need you to know that no matter how amazing the moons might be on a starry night, it is no match for the way I feel when I look at you."
His expression fell, and he shook his head, "Y/n, please. I am very flattered. I appreciate you, and I care for you."
You butted in, "I can sense that you desire me, Paul. You've already broken your oath. I know that you feel distant towards your concubine, and I wonder if it has anything to do with how you feel about me."
He chuckled, walking away from you, "I thought you said you didn't wish to overstep?"
"I cannot help it. I'm sorry. But you know my training." You genuinely didn't want to disrupt anything between him and Chani.
He ran his hand over his face, pushing away the exhaustion of the day, trying to make sense of his own feelings as well. "Y/n, you aren't wrong. Chani knows that my sentiments for you have shifted."
So he admits it!
"You haven't bedded her for weeks now, have you?" you prodded, carefully.
"No," he stepped closer to you, towering over you by several inches, "not that it is any of your business."
"I don't want to make you angry, Paul. But I have seen the way you look at me, the way you brush passed me during council. You've preferred spending more and more time with me lately." You took a step forward this time, just a foot's length away from him.
Paul let his guard down, knowing that you were right about everything. His face softened, and he brought his hand up to caress your face. His hand had been roughed up by the wind and sand if the desert, but you could still see yourself melting against it as he touched you.
Paul went on to say, "You should know by now how I feel for you. But it cannot be. I made a promise. I don't ever want to be cruel to you, my y/n." he licked his dry lips, and you noticed just how blue his eyes were as a result of spice addiction. "I did not marry you for things such as love or children, you know that."
"Yes, I know." you sighed, having heard that piece of information a hundred times during your marriage. "My husband, you are a loyal man. I admired you for that, but I don't wish for anything more than the same love that you have for your concubine. You can share that tenderness with me."
He said nothing, but kept his hand on your cheek, gazing at you so fondly.
You could sense him breaking for you. "Paul," you leaned closer, placing your hand on his exposed chest, "I have seen the way your eyes narrow at me when I bow before you as my Emperor."
Then, his hand wound tightly into your hair, and his lips were being smashed against yours. He pulled you against him, he moaned into your kiss. His hands were on your body, sliding up the curves of your hips.
Your body was electrified, you ran your hands through his hair, not caring how sweaty he was. The hunger was equal on both sides.
Paul pulled away suddenly, sighing as he turned away from you.
He was still wrestling in his mind, you knew it. "I need you." you said, melancholy taking over your tone as you started to believe he was going to refuse you completely, "I need my husband. I want to made love to by Muad'Dib." You went over to him, looking at his back you noticed a scar, larger than the others on his body. You wondered if the mark was result of a fall on a sand dune or maybe the consequence of riding the great sandworm. You reached out, cautiously running your finger along the scar.
He shivered at your touch, but he didn't shy away.
You decided that maybe this plan was fruitless, that he wouldn't, and never could love you the proper way in which a man loved his wife. "Paul, if you do not love me, I will leave now. You'll never see me come back to this place. I will accept being wrong. Things will go back as they were."
"No, please, don't go." he faced you again. He relaxed more, his body language and the look in his eyes was more at ease.
"Then stop me, my dear husband."
@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar
#timothĂŠe chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothee chalamet smut#timothĂŠe imagine#paul atreides#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides smut#paul atreides imagine#dune fandom#dune film#dune#dune 2021
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The haunted ship story I wrote for the Trick or Treat exchange. Itâs angsty stuff and I do understand if nobody wants to read this now but if anybody does enjoy it eventually , Iâd love to hear your thoughts. â¤ď¸
âââ
Summary:
Shepard and his team investigate yet another derelict freighter out in Hades Gamma. With the crew vanished, nothing is as it appears and when he loses his own companions in the maze-like corridors of the ship, Shepard soon begins to question even his own reality.
#mshenko#n7 day#kaidan alenko#male shepard#mass effect#mass effect trilogy#temporary character death#mindfuck#angst#iâm very sorry#Chani writes
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âHey, you up?â  B.C
Pairing: Bang Chan x reader
Genre: Angst, Smut
Warnings: This content is for a mature audience
Synopsis: Don't wanna end this game Hope it goes for eternity Let's not go official, we can keep the "You & Me" Don't ask, "What are we?"
Author's notes: This is sad and steamy. It's been quite some time, sorry. Hope you like it.
MasterlistÂ
If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee â
âHey, you up?â Â
Nights like this always start the same. Same message, same reply, same outcome. Every. Single. Time. And every time you end up the same way. Tangled in your cold bed sheets, staring at ceiling, while heâs quick to look for his clothes and get out as quick as possible. A long time ago you had tried to get him to stay, but now you know it is a lost cause. Chan would never stay over, because staying over is for people in relationships, and he doesnât do relationships. Â
âIâve never liked labels, if we are having fun, why spoilt it with technicalities?â, he said. Â
Things started with you being naive enough to believe that sex would be enough for your fragile heart. Maybe you could get closer to him little by little, you thought, maybe he would grow feelings (well, at least you did) maybe, maybe, maybe... Â Â
Sex with Chan is great, mind-blowing, youâd never had someone who was so focused on your body, on what you like and what sends you over the edge. It was like he had memorized every single nerve of your body, knowing where to touch, where to suck, like or bite. It was everything he did that made you almost addicted to him; the way his fingers would reach places yours could never even imagine; how his tongue and lips seemed to be able to go on forever, never once complaining; the way his hips and his cock would move and thrust sending you into heaven every single time. Chan was a giver in bed, always making sure to put you first while in bed, many orgasms, and blissful hours at a time, but as soon as you were done, he went back to being the same detached man you know. Â Â
And while at first, you could somewhat stand this kind of relationship, it was slowly destroying you on the inside. So, now you lay there, staring at your phone screen, debating yourself. Would it be worth it? At least for a few hours, to be in his arms until your little bubble pops once heâs had his fill. Saving your soul and your mental peace would be a wise decision, but you are weak, weak and in love. Â
âFuck, Chris!â You pulled his hair, his head between your legs, while his lips are wrapped around your clit and his fingers piston in and out of your hole. His other hand keeps your legs open while you thrash them around, unable to keep them still. Â
His fingers change into their angle, making you throw your head back, now his tongue kitten licks your small bundle of nerves, âCommon, pretty girl. Cum one more time and Iâll fuck you the way you like.â His lips sucked harshly. Â
âOh fuck, oh fuck, please, please, please.â You didn't even know what you were begging for, âDonât stop, Chan.â Tears threatened to come out, it was too much. Â Â
âYou are doing so good, such a good girl, my perfect little slut. Come on, baby cum.â His tongue thrusting itself into you, sending you over the edge. Your back arched and you let out such a sound you were sure the neighbours would complain in the morning, but you couldn't care less right now. Â
Eyes closed and desperate for air, your legs numb and a tingly feeling between them, Chan kept lapping at your centre, slurping all your juices, overstimulating you. Your mind was in complete bliss, making you unaware of the producerâs next plans. He was quick to turn you around, grabbing your hips and putting you in four. Â
âFucking hell, you have no idea how much I love your ass.â He said as he spanked your cheeks a couple of times, leaving a dark imprint on both. You moaned and shoved your face into your pillows, you could feel your juices start to spill down your leg. Â
âPlease, please, fuck me, Chanie.â You wiggled your hips, trying to entice him. Â
He grabbed his cock and rubbed your clit with it, âYeah? You want my cock, baby?â He pressed it against your cunt, pushing a bit in, but it wasnât enough, âBeg for it, love.â Â
You whined, your skin was on fire, and your legs trembled with need, âplease, daddy, Iâve been a good girl, please, please, I need your cock, plea...â You screamed. Â Â
Chan shoved himself with a single thrust. Throwing his head back and grabbing your hips tightly, he didnât give you any time to get used to. âShit, you are so fucking tight.â His pelvis banged the tender skin of your ass, his balls slapping your clit, and his cock hitting against your cervix. His rhythm was too much, but you wouldnât dare escape it. Â
He leaned himself into you, put his hand right beside your head. He could see how red your face was, the way your mouth let out at sins and how tears ran down your face. And he was loving every single second of it. âWho is making you feel this good, baby?â Â
You couldn't even answer, gibberish and moans came out of you, but that wasnât enough for you. He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting a sensitive spot inside you, making you scream, his hand went right to your clit, rubbing it in circles, âAnswer me. Who?â You tried once again, but nothing clear came out. Â
Tired of this, Chan straightens himself, taking you with him. Your back against his chest, his hand choking your neck while his thrust got even quicker, his mouth right next to your ear. âI know you are nothing but a dumb slut, but Iâm talking to you, and I expect an answer. Now.â Thrust. âTell me.â Thrust. âWhoâs fucking you this good?â. He bit you, marking you. Â
âYou, Chan!â Your thighs burned and you were so close, your juices now ran down his balls, and you felt like passing out. He pushed you to the bed, pressing himself against your back. Â
âThis pussy is mine, you hear me? No one else can have it.â His thrusts were becoming quicker, shorter and desperate, he was also close. âOnly I get to fuck it, you are my whore, no one elseâs.â Thrust. âDonât you dare forget that.â Â
Nonsense and his name kept coming out of you like a prayer, everything building up, until the tight knot in your stomach finally snapped, juices squirting everywhere. He wasnât there yet, so he kept going, overstimulating you, sending your nerves into overdrive. Â
âJust a bit more, Babygirl, hold on, yes, you are such a good girl, goddamn how much I love fucking you. Oh god!â And like that, you felt his warmth filling you up, making you cum once again. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, his seed spilling out of you and into your sheets. Your legs finally give in, and you fall flat out into the mattress. Â Â
Your brain is somewhere else, trying to come back down, and Chan is right next to you. His left arm is in his face, he licks his lips in dehydration, his chest falls up and down quickly and his right hand holds tightly onto your thigh, trying to ground himself. Â Â
And just as fast as Chan comes, he goes. He straightens himself, sitting down at the edge of the bed, heâs quiet and distant, looking for his clothes. Not once does the turn to look at you. âHey, are you okay?â Â Â
âYeah.â You whisper, laying on your side, facing away from him. Â
âGood.â He pulls his pants up, and his shirt next. Â Â
As heâs about to make his great escape, all reason flies out of your head. Â Â
âHey, Chris?â Â
âYes?â Â
âWhat are we?â Â
You wait a few seconds, but nothing comes of his mouth, you have an answer. Â Â
âYeah, I knew it. Goodbye, Chris.â Â
He doesnât dare anything else, so he leaves. Â
Everything had changed in that second, and you both know it. Â
_________________Â Â
It had been weeks since that night. All messages had gone unanswered. You were no longer lying in bed wondering if you should do it, you didn't. It was now Chan who tried to reach out. Â
âHey, you up?â Â
âHey, you up?â Â
âHey, you up?â Â
âHey, umm I donât know if you are busy, but call me when you can. Or text me.â Â
âHey, baby havenât seen you in a while. Text me. Please.â Â
âHey, did you change your number, and I forgot to save it or...â Â Â
âHey, I went to that cafĂŠ you like so much, you are right, itâs really good, we should go once you are not so busy. Text me.â Â
âHey, did I do something? Are you mad at me? Cause if I did, please letâs talk it out.â Â
âHey, listen, I donât want to lose you over something so stupid. Call me. Please.â Â
You canât lose something you never had; you think. Work and friends kept you busy enough so you didnât think about him in the day, nights were much more complicated, and there were days you were tempted to go back, longing for him, for his touch and his warmth, but you knew it would only make you feel worse. Â Â
Han was the best friend in the world, taking you out and making you break out of your shell little by little, some days it was a party, others it was just the two of you. Some days you felt like you were at the top of the world, whereas others you could only weep in his arms until you passed out from the pain. Â
_________________Â
You looked at yourself in the mirror. Makeup and hair done, high heels and heavy earrings, and even though you were trying to erase that fact from your head, his favourite dress on. Han had chosen it for you, and you couldnât tell him why you had avoided that specific piece of clothing. Â Â
âYou ready, sweetie?â He peeked into the room. You nodded, not sure of it. Â Â
_________________Â
Music was blasting out and bright coloured lights covered the entire place. The drink in your hand had served its purpose, you were drunk. In the middle of the dance floor, Han has his hands on your waist, keeping you close while you dance. He whispers sweet things in your ear, while you giggle. It wasnât something new, this scene had occurred on past occasions, even escalating, but Han and you never dug too deep into it, kisses and casual affairs had once been part of your friendship, and you both were comfortable with that. Â
He turned you around, looking into your eyes, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, next on the tip of your nose, and your lips. A simple peck. You put your hands around his neck, swaying your hips, throwing your head back, enjoying the moment. Â
âWhat you thinking about, pretty?â He whispered against your lips. Â
âNothing in particular.â You whisper back. Â
He pulls you closer, your head against his neck, and his lips leave small kisses on yours. You feel at ease. Â
Until you open your eyes. Â Â
And there he is. Â
A drink in his hand, heâs looking at you. His eyes burned holes into Jisungâs back. All air escapes your lungs. Â
âJi, heâs, heâs here.â You whisper-yelled, your pulse going up. Â
âWhat? Chan? Are you sure?â Â
âJisung, heâs here.â Your tongue twists and your fists tighten around his clothes, âHeâs here, I donât know what to do, I, I, Iâm not ready.â Â Â
âOkay, calm down, Iâm getting you out of here.â He grabs your hand, quick to push his way through the crowd. You make it out of the place, and the cold air hits you, helping regain your breath. âOkay, give me a second, Iâm getting the car, wait here.â You try to protest, but heâs gone before you can. Â Â
You stand there, shivering, praying he doesnât find you, but you smell his cologne before you can even see him. Â
 âI thought you and Jisung were only friends.â His tone is harsh, making you flinch, âIs he the reason youâve been ignoring me?â Â
âWe are just friends.â Â
âFriends donât kiss like that.â Â
âYeah? Then what the hell were we doing, Chan? Because we sure as hell were not dating.â Your turned to him. Â Â
âWhy haven't you answered my texts?â Â
âIâve been busy.â Â
âWith him?â Venom spits out of his mouth, heâs way past furious. You know heâs jealous, but that throws you off. Â
âNo, Chan. I have a life out of our little flings, and you know it.â Â
âSo, you are too busy to answer me, but arenât too busy to come here and throw yourself into Jisung?â Â
Okay. You are done. Â
âWhat do you want me to say, Chan? You have no right to come here and demand an answer. You are not my boyfriend. You and me, we are nothing.â Â
âThatâs a damn lie and you know it.â Â
âDo I? What are we? Because you made it quite clear, you like me Chan, but you donât love me.â Â
âThe fact that I donât like labels, doesnât...â Â
âOh, cry me a fucking river, Christopher. You donât want me, but you also donât want anyone else to have me. You are so fucking cruel.â You cried, tired of everything, of him, âI need to move on, I need it. Please, let me go.â Â
Han's car horn ranged loudly, arriving just in time to save you. âIâve gotta go. Goodbye, Chris.â Same words as that night, the night he lost you. They ran on Chanâs ears. Â Â
He grabbed your hand, tightly, not wanting you to leave, âplease, please letâs talk, I donât want this to end.â Small droplets came out of his eyes, startling you, but you stood your ground. Â
âChan, let me go please.â You tugged. Â
âI donât want to.â He pulled. Â
âDonât make it even harder, please, my heart canât take it anymore.â You whispered. Â
âGive me a chance, please. Iâm begging you. Â
âNo, Chan. I already know how this will end, and I canât take it.â Â
He shook his head, âplease.â Â
... Â
âCan you promise you will be my boyfriend?â Plain and simple. Â
âWhat?â His eyes widened. Â
âCan you promise to give us a title? No more casual sex? Will you make it official?â Â Â
You wait a few seconds, but nothing comes of his mouth, you have an answer. Â Â
âYeah, I knew it. Goodbye, Chris.â Â
Everything had ended in that second, and you both know it.Â
#bang chan x reader#bang chan fanfic#bang chan#bang chan angst#bang chan smut#stray kids bang chan#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids#stray kids angst
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Taking Advantage
Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader
Warnings: fluff / angst / hurt reader / teasing
Words: 1.3k
you came home from battle injured & Paul wants to make sure you are alright
_____________________________
âThat was awesome!âÂ
The Fremen men and women were cheering in agreement as your group coming back to Sietch Tabr with the sunrise early in the morning. Every step you take, sends little painful impulses through your muscles. The whole night you were fighting against a Spice harvesting ship that belonged to the Harkonnen and although you made a bunch of them pay for their brutal regiment, you came back badly bruised. But you are doing your best to hide the pain your in in front of your friends. It would be even more embarrassing to see their faces covered in pity over you, when the mood is as good as it is right now. The Fremen had another win and kicked some Harkonnen asses. Thatâs all that counts right now.Â
âIâm a little drained. Go on and have a drink for me, while Iâll be having a good restâ, you said to your best friend Chani, who is giving you a suspicious look but then nodded.Â
âYou did good today, y/n. And I know for a fact, that MuadâDib is thinking the sameâ, she wiggled with her eyebrows, mocking you again. Your eyes darted to the back of the tent, where Paul was sitting with Stilgar. He was already looking at you, not breaking the eye contact once yours met his. Paul was frowning a little, wich made his worried expression even more noticeable. Maybe Stilgar was telling him some bad news or something. You didnât really care, because all you could think about was the pain that was feeling like needles beneath your skin.Â
âI donât care what he thinks. He fought well. And everything else is not importantâ, you murmured shrugging your hurting shoulders. Big mistake. Your almost flinched because of the pain that was send trough your body again.Â
You quickly waved Chani goodbye and make your way outside the big community room, back to your private stone cabin, that was placed further away. When you finally reached it, a sigh of relief escaped your throat. Carefully you sit down on the bed out of soft fabric and you close your eyes for a second to calm your thoughts. Today was hard and nothing sounds more tempting than getting this suit off and washing the dirt off of your irritated skin. But the thought that you have to move yourself to make that happen, was like your personal nightmare.Â
The sound of someone clearing his throat hollowed back from the stonewalls of your room. You quickly turn your head around to catch Paul standing in the doorframe, holding the curtain open. He looks even more worried now than back downstairs.Â
âCan I come in?â, he asked.Â
You let out a annoyed sigh. âSure. What is it, Paul?âÂ
He makes his way up to you, stopping not even two feet away from the bed you were still sitting on. âAre you alright?âÂ
âObviously. Today was a big win.âÂ
He frowned again. âThatâs not what I meant.âÂ
âThen what are you talking about? Speak up.â Your tone was annoyed, because the last thing you wanted right now was him seeing you in this pathetic state.Â
âYou fought like a demon out there. I have never seen someone so ⌠so passionately killing the bad guys. But ⌠I saw you falling down that cliff. For a second I thought you were deadâ, he swallowed hard. âI saw you getting hurt. You must be in enormous pain right now.âÂ
The fact that he had an eye on you while being on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, made your chest tightened up. He was really looking out for me?Â
You tried to sound unimpressed. âWell, thank you for your concern but Iâm perfectly fine as you can see.â You stood up and wanted to make him leave your room, but the sharp pain came back like a lighting bolt and you tripped over your own feet. Paul had quick reflexes and catching you before you could hit the ground. âIâm fineâ, your voice cracks and burning shame blushed your cheeks.Â
âNo you are not fine, y/n. You need helpâ, Paul whispered. His arms still wrapped around your waist to hold you up. His eyes right in front of you. So blue you could probably drown in them ⌠although there were little brown spots you never noticed before.Â
You swallowed. âI donât need âŚâÂ
âOh for fucks sake! Shut up and let me help youâ, he demanded. You were so surprised about his little outburst, that you could only nod to give him the permission.Â
Paul smiled slightly. âGood. You are so stubborn.âÂ
You rolled your eyes on him, not saying anything. He was right, but you didnât want to give him the satisfaction of you agreeing with him.Â
With his help, you turned your back to him. He begins to get rid of the many closures of the suit and with every unbuttoning your face feels even warmer. His direct presence was making you nervous and you were not sure how you feel about that effect he has on you.Â
âYou need to relax. Otherwise I could hurt you even moreâ, his voice was low and for a second you thought you heard a light crack in it. Is it possible that you have the same effect on him?Â
âIt is kinda hard to relax in this ⌠situationâ, the words slipped out before you could think about the meaning of them. You bite your tongue as he chuckled softly.Â
âAnd why is that?â, you could feel his warm breath on your neck. It sends goosebumps over your drained body. Before you could give him a sassy answer, his fingertips touched the bare skin on your shoulders, gently pulling down the suit. You could feel his hands on your back while Paul was making sure that you didnât need to move a muscle to get rid of the Fremen desert suit. Underneath you are wearing an thin layer of fabric, cut in the form of a dress that barely covers your butt.Â
âAre you taking advantage of an helpless and wounded woman, Paul Atreides?â, you say with a strangled voice. Still facing the wall. But Paul was so close, that you could feel his chest touching your back.Â
Paul gently strokes your hair over one shoulder. His lips almost touching your ear, while he speaks with a breathy voice. âI would never take advantage of you. I know for a fact, that you could kick my ass and slit my throat in no time, even wounded and blinded. But you havenât done such thing.âÂ
He places a soft kiss on the sensitive skin right beneath your ear and your breathing stops. Your whole body reacting to him like a firework. Just because of a litte stupid kiss. What is happening?Â
âDid I hurt you?â, he asked as he noticed your reaction. âIf you want me to stop, you just have to say one word and Iâm âŚâÂ
âYou didnât hurt meâ, you interrupted.Â
Paul chuckles softly. And you almost hoped, that he would keep on doing where he stopped, but instead you feel how his warm body disappeared from your back. As you peak over your shoulder, he looks at you with deep satisfaction.Â
âIâll see if I can get you something to eat and drink. And then I will send you a healer to make sure youâll get better in no time.âÂ
Your mouth snapped open in disbelief. This jerk just teased you like a champion and now he was looking at you like a little boy, who is more than proud to make fun of you.Â
âYouâre an asshole, Paul Atreidesâ, you said smiling.Â
He raises his hands defensively. âIâm just making sure not to take advantage of you.âÂ
#dune movie#dune part one#dune part two#paul atredies x reader#paul atreides#paul atreides x you#comforting#dune fluff#fluff#paul atreides fluff#paul atreides imagine#paul atreides kissing#paul atreides fanfic#light angst#dune angst#paul muad'dib#timothĂŠe chalamet#Paul atreides angst#teasing
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These Destined Ends
Part Seventeen
Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. Youâre now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child â the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?
Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
Warnings: angst, depictions of violence, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral sex f receiving, some good ole p in v
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: Iâm baaack (for now). My plan for this part was for Feyd and reader to fight/argue more but I love them too much and I just couldnât do it
It takes a tremendous effort not to look at Feyd. You can only imagine the expression on his face, the depth of hurt in his dark eyes. Even the image in your head is enough to plant a seed of despair, spiraling through you like crushing vines.
âWhat baby?â Feyd asks again. His voice has taken on a steely undertone, perceptible only to you. Youâve heard a plethora of emotions running like currents in his voice, disguised by years of training and practice, but this one guts you the most. Thereâs a single layer of vulnerability.
Of questioning hurt.
You inhale and force yourself to say, âOur baby.â
Thereâs no way to know how he will react. Youâve seen every side of him â the lover, the monster, the soldier â and youâve examined each with a careful eye, peering into the mouth of his being and inspecting its teeth. But no amount of familiarity can prepare you for his calloused hand encircling your wrist and tugging you to face him.
âSay it again.â
Tears burn your eyes. âOur baby.â And suddenly it comes tumbling out, all of it. âIâm pregnant. I havenât known long. I-I was going to tell you after you healed because I knew you would fret over me. You have to understand.â
Your explanation hastens as he stares back at you blankly. You wouldâve preferred him to lash out at you, hit you, call you any number of insufferable names. But thisâŚ
âYou didnât tell me,â he says. Heâs mastered his voice enough that it feels like the prick of a blade under your ribs, waiting to push in.
âYou couldnât afford to think about me,â you tell him, âyou needed to focus on your health.â
Thereâs a flicker there, in his expression. âIt is not solely your decision to make. The child is both of ours. You shouldâve told me.â
âFeyd ââ
âEnough.â Feyd releases his grip. âIâve heard enough.
âFeyd, please ââ
His jaw feathers with suppressed emotion. Feyd whirls on the heel of his boot and storms off, leaving a wake of silence. You watch his retreating form, sorrow clenching in your chest like a fist. Only once heâs disappeared around the corner and youâre sure he wonât return, do you lash around to confront Chani.
âWhy did you do that?â
âDo what?â A lazy smile unfurls on her face. âI assumed you told him already.â
âFuck you.â
âAgain?â Chani asks.
No one dares stop you as you dress for battle in your stillsuit. Chani better pray to her gods that you donât find her alone in the battle field, you canât promise not to take out your anger. The public argument between you two simmers as the group gathers, reviewing the attack. A familiar movement in the corner of your eye distracts you, and surprise grips you in response.
âWhat are you doing?â You breathe out, ashamed to admit how relieved you felt, however fleeting.
âDid you think Iâd let you go out alone?â
Feyd avoids your gaze, keeps his own focused on Stilgar as the bearded man explains his plan. Your husband is so heartbreakingly beautiful. You commit his profile to memory, the essence of him â wrath and death, the god of war, but also the softer side of him that only youâve seen. Before, on Giedi Prime, you didnât know the pain of losing him, of seeing him bleeding out in the sands of Arrakis.
The memory flashes in your mind. The level of desperation in your voice is frankly pathetic, but you wouldnât allow it for anyone else. âYou have to forgive me, Feyd. I thought ââ
âSave it.â His gaze slides, finally, to you. You might imagine the softness that forms there when he looks at you. âWeâll talk later.â
Your legs are cramping. Youâve laid on this fucking sand dune for what seems like a small eternity now, covered in a mesh blanket to disguise yourself. Feyd rests next to you. The Fremen are buried in the sand for ambush. You donât know why you would want to help the Harkonnen, but they were insistent upon you being removed from the initial attack.
Your decision to move your leg is forgotten at the droll sound of a ship in the distance, a dark shape in the sky that grows exponentially larger. Feyd stiffens next to you.
âRabban might be on that ship,â you say as loud as you dare.
Feydâs mouth forms a firm line. âI hope he is.â
It strikes you that youâre quite grateful to be on the side of the Fremen as they launch their ambush, bodies upon bodies emerging from the sands like desert wraiths and immediately killing every foot soldier. You and Feyd launch from your hiding spot once the ship opens fire â Feyd to join the fighting on the ground, you aiming the blasgun given to you. You follow him with your eyes as he moves through the bloodshed like itâs a well-choreographed dance, both graceful and gruesome, his blades glinting.
Shot after shot you take out as many Harkonnens as you can, trying not to think about how you might know them. You focus, instead, on the fact that they would do anything to erase the life growing inside your womb, the promise of unity.
The Messiah.
From your vantage point the ambush looks to be waning when a figure disembarks from the ship. The last time you saw him, youâd tried to kill him.
The feeling hadnât gone away.
Feyd kicks in the knee of a fellow Harkonnen, who drops to the ground. In a fluid movement he removes the helmet and slits their throat, then regards his brother. Thereâs no doubting that Rabban recognizes his brother, even in a stillsuit, recognizes the man he trained and fought with.
Every instinct in you is yelling at you to tumble down the dune to join the fight, but the rumble of a sandworm hums beneath your feet and you know that you donât have time. Already the Fremen are retreating. Almost all of the Harkonnen soldiers have been cut down except for the spare few who stayed behind with Rabban. The ship whirs to life. You canât tell if the brothers exchange any words before the ship lifts back into the air and Feyd is clamoring back to you, his face paler than normal beneath his protective helmet.
You know not to question him about it until later but when you return to the sietch, the ambush team rejoices in their triumph. Youâre jostled back and forth and away from Feyd. âThe Messiah paved our way to victory!â Stilgar exclaimes, dirt and blood smearing his face.
A roar of approval echoes him and you smile weakly at the Fremen patting you on the back and reaching out to touch your abdomen. An actual growl over your shoulder wards them off, though, Feyd appearing in your peripheral.
âY/N!â Jessica emerges from the festivities, expression concerned. âAre you alright?â Her attention drops to your stomach.
Irritation has you grinding your molars together as you bite out, âIâm fine.â
âWhere were you?â Feyd levels this question to your mother.
Jessica says, âI was doing my duty. Here.â
âYou say you have the interest of the Fremen at heart but you make yourself conveniently scarce whenever the opportunity arises to prove it.â
You suppress a smirk. While healing, he missed most of your motherâs Bene Gesserit propaganda. It pleases you that he sees through her bullshit right off the bat. Even if he doesnât completely understand it, or your participation in it, Feyd knows that Jessica is not as genuine as she says.
âDo you doubt me?â She asks him.
Feydâs silence is response enough. A flicker of irritation crosses Jessicaâs face.
âYou need to speak to them,â she says to you, âtell them that you foresaw this victory. That with our help, with the support of the Messiah, they will succeed in this war. That today is just a taste.â
Feyd cuts his gaze to you. Well, he knows your participation now.
âNo,â you tell her.
Jessica has the good sense to look taken aback. âNo?â
âI am tired. And I wish to reunite with my husband. You speak to them.â You grab Feydâs hand despite knowing that the contact is unwanted, dragging him away from the crowd and your motherâs palpable anger. For your sake he clings to you until youâre out of sight, then wrenches his hand away.
âI have not forgotten what you done,â he snarls.
You double check to ensure that no one is around to overhear what undoubtedly will become an argument. âI know.â
Soft to his unyielding fury.
âTell me everything.â
Unable to look at him, you find a spot on the wall past him, regret burrowing into your heart. âI-Iâve known for roughly three months now. I didnât know if he would survive the crash.â
âHe?â A single word.
âYes.â For the first time in his presence, you let your fingers drift to your abdomen. Feydâs hands twitch but otherwise heâs motionless. âItâsâŚa boy. Heâs strong. I can feel it.â
Feyd wavers slightly, the news leeching from the reservoir of his anger. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âI told you, I knew you would never give yourself the time to heal if you knew.â
âItâs my duty to protect you. My privilege. And all this time, not knowingââ Feyd cuts off abruptly, a spasm of pain crossing his expression. âI thought we told each other everything. No more games.â
Your heart pangs. âI wasnât playing a game, Feyd. I wanted to protect you. I had to watch you nearly die in front of me. I canât lose you.â You blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that spring to your eyes, the emotions thick in your throat. âPlease donât hate me.â
âNothing you do can make me hate you,â Feyd murmurs after a heartbeat. He steps closer, his thumb swiping over your cheeks, your tears. He seems to be wrestling for what to say next and finally whispers, âYouâre pregnant.â
âI am,â you say, laughing, nearly delirious.
A moment passes in which he stares at you in disbelief, before he loops his arms around your waist and picks you up off your feet. A smile graces your face, buried in his neck, as he whirls you in a circle and sets you back down with a rarely-heard laugh â clear and deep.
âA son,â he breathes. Realization encroaches his delight. âWhat does this mean? For us? ForâŚhim?â
Sorrow eclipses your own happiness, however brief. You keep it close to your heart, a memory for later, when it will be scarce. âThe Fremen have been condition by the Bene Gesserit to believe our child is their Messiah.â
âIsnât he?â
âYes.â You cringe. âAnd no.â
âExplain.â
âAs you know, weâve been bred for generations to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But according to the Fremen, to what the Bene Gesserits said, the mother must also be Bene Gesserit. And I amâŚnot.â
âBut they believe you are.â
Guilt punctures you like a blade to your lung, slipping between your ribs and expelling all of your breath. âYes, they do. Itâs all by my motherâs design. She wants the control.â
Feydâs brow furrows. âAgainst my family?â
âThe person in control of Arrakis is in control of the whole universe,â you say, âshe wants to orchestrate everything from behind the scenes.â
To say it out loud devastates you, how you and Feyd have been only pawns in a scheme much larger than the both of you. And now your child.
Power drove your family apart.
âWhat do we do?â Feyd asks.
âI donât know,â you reply honestly.
Feydâs attention drifts to where the sietch is still celebrating their victory. âThese people have been oppressed for too long. We canât allow it to continue.â
âWe need their allegiance, though,â you tell him. âWe wonât win this war without them.â
âWouldnât we just be falling right into the Bene Gesserits hands? Lending ourselves and our son to them? Enslaving them?â
âI want justice for them as much as you.â
The slightest of exhales from Feyd. âWhatâs your plan?â When you look away without a reply, he reaches out to take your hand. âWeâll figure it out. But we donât have much time.â
âY/N.â
You turn to face your mother, wreathed in yellow fabric. The intensity of her blue-on-blue eyes is frightening. You havenât dared to look into any reflective surface to see if yours possesses the same hue but, judging by the tint in Feydâs, you probably look the same.
A visible sign of the way your life has transitioned.
âWe arenât done,â you say to her flatly.
âIt can wait.â
Feyd bristles. âShe said we werenât done.â
Jessica lazily assess your husband. It incites a flare of anger in you; no one has ever looked at Feyd-Rautha before with such indifference. He simply did not command it. Out of the corner of your eye you peek at him. Shutters have drawn down on his face, making him entirely unreadable. The slightest of muscles jumping under his eye tells you of the turmoil beneath the surface of his composure.
âYou think you own her?â Jessica asks. âJust because youâre wed? Need I remind you that it was by my design.â
Feyd snarls, âNo one owns her.â
âYou belong to centuries of Bene Gesserit design,â your mother reminds you, âthis is your destiny.â
âItâs the destiny that youâve manipulated,â you snap back. âWhat will they do when they find out that Iâm not a witch? That everything is a lie?â
âItâs not my fault that you failed to live up to your potential,â Jessica shot back.
It hits you like a slap to the face.
âI suggest that you take your leave,â Feyd says into the stunned silence. He steps forward, half shielding you with his body.
Jessicaâs upper lip curls. âThe failed heir to the Baroncy. A weapon, but nothing more. Except perhaps a sire. Congratulations.â
âEnticing us into an argument isnât going to make us give in to your demands,â you say. âI refuse to take part in your indoctrination anymore.â
âFine. Tell them itâs a lie. Theyâll kill you before you can say another word.â
Feyd curses under his breath. You both know that sheâs right, that the link of your son is the only thing keeping you alive. Itâs a tremulous relationship between you and the Fremen, one that not even the victory today could completely reconcile. You hate that Jessica still has such a firm hold over you. Over Feyd. Your son.
At your sides, your hands tremble with suppressed rage. âThis isnât over.â
âIsnât it?â Jessicaâs lips curl into a smile.
You lay side by side later that night, mulling over the events that had unfolded. The darkness obscures your husband but his presence beside you is solid, unyielding. Safe.
âHe saw me today. Rabban.â
âDo you think theyâll come for you?â You ask.
His silence stretches on for quite some time before he answers. âPerhaps. Iâm not sure whether I want them to or not. Probably not.â
âWhy wouldnât they? Surely they thought that you â we â died in the crash.â
âThatâs just it,â Feyd says, âRabban undoubtedly reported our deaths and, by admitting heâs wrong, will suffer for it. I suspect that heâs fuming right now actually.â
âHopefully long enough for us to figure out our next step,â you murmur in reply.
The cot that you both have squeezed onto rustles as Feyd turns on his side. You can just barely make out his face, the shape of his shoulder. His hand moves to your abdomen, where it hovers before finally landing. His palm is warm on your skin, alighting a fire inside of you. No matter how many times you touch your entire being reacts to him, surging up to meet him. And there, as weak as a fluttering pulse, your baby, too small for Feyd to notice rejoicing in his closeness.
âOur next step is just to take them one at a time.â His eyes glisten in the darkness. âI do not want to miss out on these moments because I am worried about a future that is not promised.â
Feyd dips down, presses a kiss to your navel. You canât help but sigh in response, hips rising, eager to feel his lips elsewhere. He chuckles, deep and rumbling, fingers dancing over the waistband of your pants. âWe have conceived a child. Some would argue that our obligation to one another is finished.â
âAnd what would you argue?â
He pretends to pause, to consider this. âI would tell them that I must be cold in the ground to miss an opportunity to fuck my wife.â
A laugh escapes you as he masterfully removes the barrier of cloth between you, relying on touch to guide him down your body. Hips still wriggling, Feyd quells your impatience with his tongue. He slides through your folds like heâs savoring the experience, like he might never taste you again, tracing over your entrance but denying you the admittance. You buck up in frustration.
âPatience, jewel,â he murmurs against you, âI want to relish touching my pregnant wife for the first time.â
Your cunt clenches at this. Youâre forced to squeeze your eyes, as the sight of him between your legs is almost too much to bear. Your whole life you have been chasing home and now, here, you have found it in him, in his ruinous touch. You were his, marked before by the band on your finger and now the child in your womb, not a sign of ownership but belonging.
âSuch a good, perfect wife,â he says as he pleases you, a mixture of his fingers and his mouth. âTaking my seed so well and giving me a son. I cannot wait to see you grow with him in your belly, my child. Our child.â
He withdraws long enough to stroke himself, clearly aroused at the thought. Your thighs press together, slicked by his mouth and your own arousal, but Feyd pushes them apart with one hand while pumping himself with the other. In a single, fluid movement, he then pushes his cock into you with decisive force. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out as he fills you completely, stretching your walls.
Feyd draws back and thrusts into you, over and over, building in ferocity. You bury your fingers into the cot to anchor yourself. Stars burst across your vision.
He speaks through each panted breath as if he might perish if he does not say the words. âI have given my heart to you, my soul, and in return you have given yourself to me. To my son.â Thereâs a hitch in his voice. Feyd presses his body to yours as he drives into you, holding you close. âYou have given me the ultimate gift.â
Tears splatter on your chest. You realize with a lurching heart that he is crying, overcome with his emotions. You hold on to him just as tightly â there are no words fitting for this confession. Instead you pour yourself into him, into the push and pull of your bodies. And when you come together, crashing into your release, there is no distinction between you or him; you are only one. One breathing, pulsing being, utterly entwined.
Afterwards, when you have kissed the tears off his cheeks and heâs thoroughly cleaned you, Feyd curls up beside your abdomen. Adrift in your post-orgasm bliss, youâve nearly succumbed to sleep when he says:
âI see him.â
Drowsy, you ask, âWho?â
âOur son.â This piques your interest, leading you to squint into the dark at him. Feyd, sensing your confusion, elaborates, âI see him in my dreams. Nightmares. I didnât understand at first but now I know that itâs him.â
âReally?â Your voice is soft.
Feyd nods. His finger trails up the curve of your belly, not quite shaped by your pregnancy. âHe looks like you and Iâm soâŚIâm so proud of him.â Thereâs an edge of sadness in his voice now. âEven though, in my nightmares, he ââ
You wait for him to continue but he does not. Feyd shudders against you, wrought with whatever pain the poison-induced dreams leave.
Feyd finally whispers, âDo you think we can change our fate? Whatâs been laid out for us?â
âI like to think so,â you say with honesty. Every instinct in you is raging at whatever has unraveled your husband so, but you know that the matter must be delicate. You donât want to press.
âBut what if we canât?â
You ghost your fingers over his head, desperate to comfort him. The words unnerve you but you donât dare let him know that youâre frightened by the same thing.
âI will love you until the very end of it,â you breathe, âthat is all I can say for sure.â
Feyd replies, full of fear and regret, âI know.â
Part Eighteen
Taglist:
@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen @psychoffin @lauratang @austinswhitewolf @bloodyziggy
#feyd rautha#dune#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd x reader#feyd x you#fanfic writing#feyd smut#writers on tumblr#fanfic#writing#these destined ends
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Said I was not gonna make Dune Messiah predictions but here I am making Dune Messiah predictions. Because I've been thinking about how smartly Part Two used all the characters around Paul to embody the different forces pulling on him, and I wouldn't be surprised if we see a similar thing in Dune Messiah.
I think Irulan's role will be more or less the same as in the book--she'll be plotting against him. She represents the interests of the Bene Gesserit and the other Great Houses--all the various other imperialist powers that Paul pissed off by upending their carefully laid plans.
Chani will definitely be there but she will not have spent the intervening years with Paul. It's much more of a punch in the feels for her to pop up as a plot twist partway through the story and for us to see their reunion happen in real time. I've seen some predictions that try to like...bend Paul and Chani's relationship back into a shape approximating what's in the book and I am saying now that that ain't gonna happen. Spending years hanging around the imperial palace trying to get pregnant and soothing your dictator bf's existential angst makes no fucking sense for movie Chani. She will be organizing against him. If she "forgives" him and spends any amount of time with him it'll be a ruse in order to spy on him or something like that. I think it would be a great source of internal conflict for her to discover along the way that she still harbors some compassion for Paul as a person, but there is no way she will compromise her political principles; that is the bedrock of her character. She will serve much the same role as she did in Part Two: she gives voice to Paul's conscience, his better instincts, and the interests of the Fremen independent of what various imperial powers want from them.
The twins will still be born, because that is central to why Paul does what he does at the end of the story, and that is part of "leaving the door open" for any fool who might take a crack at directing Children of Dune. (I think Children of Dune can work just fine as a movie but anyone who does it will be Not Denis and therefore setting themselves a formidable task.) But like...Paul and Chani only have to have sex once for that to happen.
The role that Chani plays for a large chunk of the book, of being Paul's loyal confidante and the person he allows himself to be most human around? That role is gonna be filled by Alia.
Alia...doesn't really have a lot to do, plot-wise, in the book of Dune Messiah, and this is the perfect place to put her. She is the only person in the Known Universe who maybe sort of a little bit understands what Paul's experience of reality is like now. She's the perfect conduit to voice all the philosophical stuff about prescience that's in the book but hard to work into casual dialogue. The book is full of people saying stuff about how Paul and Alia are so close they seem like two halves of the same person but we don't really see it that much on the page, and this is the perfect chance to add that stuff in. (I could very much see them borrowing not necessarily the actual plot points but some of the weird incesty vibes from the Children of Dune era.) I wouldn't be so surprised if some of the moments that happen between Paul and Chani in the book get handed off to Alia (blind ornithopter ride maybe??) and Chani gets a whole new storyline, independent of Paul, that's not in the book at all.
It kinda fits with the rhythm of the films, too. In Part One Paul's most important interpersonal relationship is with Jessica. In Part Two, he's in conflict with Jessica and his most important relationship is with Chani. In Messiah, I think he'll be in conflict with Chani and his most central relationship will be with Alia. (And ghola!Duncan probably, but I think that will be another surprise reveal that happens later in the story.) And at the end of Messiah, he won't end up in conflict with Alia exactly. But he will leave her behind.
#dune#dune messiah#paul atreides#alia atreides#irulan corrino#chani kynes#denis villeneuve#adaptation#chani is my homegirl 5eva but i would much rather her have a smaller role that's consistent with her character#than a larger role that doesn't make any fucking sense with what they've set up#and based on what denis has said in interviews i would be shocked if they don't go this direction with her#if i'm right about all this then paulalia stans are gonna be eating well
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children of the empire
king!jacaerys valeryon x reader
summary: the tale of the king and the slave.
warnings: slave!reader, infidelity, hurt/comfort, angst, childbirth, grief, death, inspired by paul and chani from dune book series.
A/N: just jace and reader being wholly devoted to eachother
wc: 1.4k
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HE KNEW THE two of you were destined to be together from the moment he laid his eyes on you. After the coronation held for him as King, multiple houses that had changed the course of their loyalty at the last minute had begun to seek the now young King Jacaerysâ favor. And so began the parade of gifts from ornaments, jewels and women were presented. Exotic slaves from colonized lands were brought forth to the king. He had sat on the throne as if it was made just for him. The throne his mother had not been given the privilege to sit on for even a whole year.Â
By his side, was his once betrothed and now Queen Baela. Their union was celebrated the way their parents would have wanted, and the two tried their hardest to uphold all the traditions and rulings to make worth of the sacrifices and bloodshed in the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Â
In everyoneâs eyes, the pair was unstoppable, a united front with grudging respect for the other. A pair not only blessed with deserving power, but also with love.Â
But no one knew what really lied behind closed doors. The King Jacaerys and Queen Baela Targaryen had not loved one another. They mightâve liked each other in a way, back then. But the war and deaths have changed them both forever. They could not find any semblance of romantic attraction or comfort in the other. They had mourned their families in such a similar way, yet somehow still jarringly different. To find intimacy with the other was to face unspoken grief.Â
Jacaerys had thought that the loveless marriage would be the end of him ever experiencing a pure, tender bond with anyone. But he had seen you in a line of tired looking, plain and pretty girls, and he had sworn heâd seen you in a dream before. Â
If his mother was alive, she would be cursing him off his head. In fact, sometimes he hears her too. Yelling, and calling him a failure of a son, as heâs holding your thighs open, plunging himself deeper inside of you. An affair had by kings wasnât uncommon, but he wondered how many of them were of love and not lust. He knew he would love you like his mother loved his father. But no matter how much of him is his motherâs son, he would not let you suffer the same end as his father.Â
He learned quickly that you werenât as docile as you looked. Ask the wrong question and youâll snap back. And yet, you were also not as hostile as you make yourself to be. You scold him like no one dares to do to the King, and you call him names on days heâs being particularly irritating, receiving a rising reaction from his shocked and baffled advisor and guards. But he knew that you were harmless. And you knew that a man like him can take a few jabs. And as much as the insults keep on coming, you advise him like no one does either. Â
You run your fingers through his hair like youâd give up everything you have to be able to touch him. And he looks up to your standing figure through his mussed-up hair as he kneels down with his arms circling your waist, like no one could ever look to even the greatest of kings.Â
âYou will carry my children.â He had once told you.
The late-night silence where only the wind was able to speak louder than either of you, making anything he was saying sound possible. âYour queen will hold a knife to my throat.â You responded, feeling him pull you closer to his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head. âI would not let any other woman be the mother to my children except you.â Â
You let out a hoarse laugh that sounded almost too cynical to his liking. âI am not your woman, even if I am your property. Any child you have with me is a child destined for a life of suffering.â Had he not been so tired, he would have presented a stronger case after seeing you argue with much more fire even in such an hour. But instead, he only shook his head hard enough for you to feel his disagreement. âYou are not my property.â You hummed with your ear to his heart. âI would be yours if youâll have me, and Iâd let you rob me naked if that be your heartâs desire.â You let out a scoff you always do when youâre finding him ridiculous and drunk. Only soft kings dare to dream, a reminder you bring up constantly to him. All because you knew what usually happens to those kinds of rulers, and even if you wouldnât say it out loud, you cared for him too much to see him resigned to such a fate. Â
Three months later, you were with child. Brimmed with joy, Jacaerys had vowed to legalize the babe as soon as it comes out. And even with his queenâs relentless challenging to his title and responsibility, he refuses to send you away. He asks her forgiveness for the disrespect the childâs birth would be to her, but his mind was set. Â
An illegitimate royal child was not unheard of, and Jacaerysâ fortunate case of being a man helps lessen the cacophony of riots and disagreement within the council. But when it had been confirmed that the child would be legalized and appointed as his heir. How can a scion of the Targaryen family be a bastard made by bastards. Â
And yet with every voice raised against him, his assurance only becomes stronger. Every drink you take and every meal you eat will be tested first for poison. And every move you make would be supervised and followed by personal guards that were starting to make you regret being with him. 6 months into the pregnancy, you had relented into staying in your chambers, his overprotectiveness had become more obvious. Not even the Queen was granted to visit you, in fear of bad intentions. Â
His actions had hurt Baela, for she expected him to know better what kind of person she is in terms of morality. Â
When your water finally broke, he was 20 minutes late. When a guard had run to him in the throne room to announce the birth, he didnât need to be told twice to get himself off the iron throne, running to you as fast as he could. You had given birth to a set of twins. A girl, and a boy. He had made it to you in the last few seconds before you let out your final breath. You had whispered his name as he squeezes your hand in a fist while apologizing profusely. âI couldnât have belonged to anyone else, even if I wanted to.â He had cried by your side. You responded with a confession youâve never uttered aloud, though both of you already knew what it was. You had breathed out so quietly, words only meant for his ears, âI love you.â The lights in his eyes died out the second you were announced deceased. Â
He sat by your cold body for hours before he could be convinced to let his grip on your dead arms off. He held both of his babes for the first and last time in his arms that day before spending the next 2 days locked and isolated in his chambers. Rhaenyra and Lucerys Targaryen. A storm brewed in the sky of Kings Landing. Wild winds and lightning as devastating as his own heart. The people stayed inside as the weather rips off wooden houses and floods the streets in every corner that isÂ
Baela had tried speaking to him, as gentle as she could, reminding him of his children. But he was non-verbal. And so, she gave up. Â
On the third day, Rhaena Targaryen had rushed to her Queen sister, screaming in pure terror as she held up a folded and opened envelope of a letter. The doors to the Kingâs chambers were slammed open, only to find the place empty. The King hadleft. He had exited the castle to the storms. Â
And in his letter contained his want for his wife to rule in his stead until his daughter Rhaenyra reaches the age of 10 and 8, old enough to be wed to her brother, and then after, sheâd take her rightful place as Queen.
A legitimate claim to the throne. Â
The only other thing written besides his will, was a sentence among the lines, âOnly a soft king dares to dream. And I am as weak and soft as it can be.âÂ
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon#house of the dragon#jace velaryon x reader#hotd x reader#jace targaryen x reader#house of the dragon x reader#game of thrones#hotd#jacaerys targaryen
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Here I am, Here I remain.
Pairing: Lady Jessica x (f)reader
Words: 3.9k
Warnings: Spoilers!!, angst, fluff, Chani
A/N: So, I was absolutely not planning on writing a sequel to this, but some of you started asking, and my brain started working, and this came out at 3:30am. There will not be a third part to this, but this is of course not my last Lady Jessica work. Also, note that there are spoilers in this. I have seen Dune: Part 2, 5 times already so it's literally engraved in my brain and on my eyelids. I hope those who wanted a sequel to this little story of mine aren't disappointed. Big shoutout to the person who submitted the original request. If you haven't already, follow me on Twitter so we can be moots and talk about our faves :) Happy reading.
Part 1
After that night, there had been a noticeable shift in your relationship with The Reverend Mother.Â
In public, you no longer walked five paces behind. It was more common to see you by her side or no more than a step behind, watching her back like a hawk. So much so so, that people had taken to calling you âThe Shadowâ - the thought that people saw you as an extension of her, filled you with an indescribable amount of joy.
There was now a certain lightness to the Reverend Mother as if you were the missing piece to her complete acceptance of her new reality. She was quicker to laugh and seemed much more focused and involved in the fate of the Fremen. She had stopped talking to her belly so much as she turned to you, her confidante - sometimes you were more of a sounding board than anything, but you were more than happy to have her throw ideas at you if it helped her in any way.Â
In private, things had also changed for the better. It was rare for there to be silence between you two, times in private were spent telling the other of life before each other; and in her case, how she was adapting to her new role and life. She told you of her parentage, she now knew the identity of at least one of her parents, and you had shared how Stilgar had raised you like his own daughter. You had developed a complicity that surpassed friendship, but you also werenât sure how to describe this thing between you. âFriendshipâ felt both like a gross oversimplification yet anything else carried an aura of delusion. The lingering looks, the gentle touches exchanged and the comfort that she provided, brought forth feelings that you hadnât previously experienced. Every moment spent in her company seemed too short.Â
It was because you had become so close emotionally, that it had been easy for you to notice oddities in her behaviour. She was more on edge, jumping at loud noises and snapping at the smallest thing. She also watched you as if you would disappear at any moment, which caused her to be clingy and on edge whenever you werenât next to her. Pretty soon, you had concluded, that she had foreseen something.Â
You had tried to broach the subject: âI see that something is troubling you, my lady.â you had whispered one day while you ate in the communal space. âWonât you share the burden with me, so that you might breathe a little easier, at least?â she had frozen for a second, a change barely visible to untrained eyes, before relaxing.
âI cannot say.â she had said simply before continuing to eat.Â
âYou donât deny that it is something?â you exclaimed silently. You had expected her to deny it. âWhy wonât you tell me, it is clearly causing you to worry.â You were getting agitated now, and when you noticed some heads looking in your direction with veiled curiosity, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.Â
âI have been cursed with knowledge.â she started slowly, quietly - collecting her thoughts as she spoke. âI see many different outcomes for many different decisions, and hear the voices of all those before me whispering in my head. I always worry, sometimes a bit more than usual. I can handle it, what I will not stand for, however, is you asking for things I cannot give.â You flinched, as she continued her rampage. âI cannot share everything with you; because sharing them will not do anything other than put a burden on your shoulder, a burden that I must carry alone.â she finishedÂ
âBu-â you started
âEnough!â was the command that came out of her mouth. The sheer force of the order had your body recoiling and your mind spinning, forcing you into silence.Â
It took you a few seconds before you could regain your senses. You looked around in confusion, before setting your eyes on her, and the shock of the realization caused your eyes to open and your chest to heave. She had used the voice on you.Â
She had used the voice on you.Â
The communal room had never been so silent. Not even during nighttime, as there were always Fremen patrolling around. Yet, right now it was so quiet that you could hear your heart beating in your ears as your body felt hot with embarrassment, shock and hurt. You sensed a movement in front of you, but before she could say or do anything else, you had stood up and left. Not looking back, and avoiding the eyes that followed you out of the communal space.Â
â------------------
Stilgar and Chani were rarely, if ever on the same page. However, one thing that they could agree on, was that you were the best of them. You didnât agree. Although you did try to control your anger, preferred to think before acting when possible and trusted until proven wrong, you could never escape the Fremen pride.Â
The Reverend Mother, Jessica, had in just a second, taken away your free will and reduced you to a puppet. And she did it in front of your people. You were shaking with silent anger, your fists were clenched, and your nails were creating bloody half-moon cuts in your palms. Had it been any other weirding woman - had you been any other Fremen - you would have slit her throat. Instead, you walked away to calm yourself.Â
Your steps guided you to your childhood home. You walked right in and slammed the door behind you, closed your eyes and leaned against it for support, before pushing forward with a harsh kick of your feet against the wooden entrance.Â
âWhat did my door do to you?â You meant to go to your room and ruminate in peace, but the voice of your father had you enter the living room where he sat on a cushion he used for prayer and meditation.Â
You stayed quiet as you paced up and down the living room, trying and failing to calm down. Never in your life had you been so angry.Â
âFirst my door, now my floor. What is the matter with you?â you heard Stilgar ask, still you didnât stop. It was only when he grabbed you by your shoulders that you stopped and let out a growl-like sigh. âCome, letâs sit and you can tell me what has angered you so,â he said as he led you to the couch.
You suddenly felt like a child again, like when you would have a nightmare or the other children would tease you to tears and you would run to him. He would sit you on his lap and hug you in his big arms and make everything better, everything would go away.Â
Except now, you were an adult with grown-up feelings and responsibilities - and he couldnât make this - whatever it was - go away. You still told him, about how youâd grown close to Lady Jessica and how she was worried about something, and how when youâd asked, out of concern, sheâd used the voice on you.Â
You expected him to get just as angry if not more than you, but he remained calm and thoughtful.Â
Finally he said: âShe said you were asking for things she couldnât give?â he questioned.Â
âDid you not hear the part where I said she used The Voice on me?â you asked in exasperation before getting up and resuming your pacing.Â
âDo you know why I assigned you to her?â he asked instead of answering your question.
âBecause Iâm your daughter and you trust me? Because Iâm one of the best Fedaykin, because Iâm a good diplomat? I donât know father.â You snapped. He was angering you even more.Â
âYes, to all these.â He agreed as you sighed. âBut, the real reason I assigned you to the Reverend Mother is because she needs a friend and you are the only person I know who wouldnât be judgemental, or rude. You would give her a chance before anything else.â He explained as you stopped your pacing to listen to him. âThe Bene Gesserit see more than we do, because of their training. A Reverend Mother sees even more. She is cursed with all the knowledge of the past and that of the future while seeing all the outcomes possible. Itâs a big responsibility.â He said lost in thought. âIt makes for a lonely life. One I have forced her to live. I guess it was only right that I gave her something to help her out.â he finished.Â
âI can understand that, but that still doesnât make up for her removing my free will like that,â You whisper as you sit next to him.Â
âYou have to understand that pushing her wonât do any good, and although you wish to help yoheru carry this load - you canât. The only thing you can do is be there for her - by her side - and wait until she comes to you,â he saidÂ
âWhen will that be?â You whisperedÂ
âWhen sheâll be ready,â he replied. âDonât sell yourself short, Y/n. Youâve been a very positive presence in her life.â he hesitated, âI believe that what hurt you the most is the fact that she said she might not be able to give you what you were asking for.â he started, âPerhaps you took it and applied it to some moreâŚromantic feelings of yours.â he finished with a small smile, as I felt heat rush all over my body.Â
âStilgar!â You exclaimed in embarrassmentÂ
âI may be getting old, but my eyes still work. I see how youâve been around her. This will be something to acknowledge when youâre ready.â he finished and I sighed.
âThank you, father,â You say with a soft smile, which he returns.
Our moment was interrupted by a loud noise that shook the entire yali, followed by screams. You were immediately on your feet as you rushed out.
Your heart beating widely in your chest.Â
â--------------------------------------------
Chaos was everywhere you looked. Children and adults alike rushed to escape the Sietch or to find loved ones lost in the panic as you were being attacked.Â
You helped where you could, but you only had one thing on your mind, and that was to find Jessica. You wanted to believe that she had been rushed out by the fanatics of the prophecy, but you wouldnât leave until you were absolutely sure. Why did I run away like a petulant child? You asked yourself. Youâd never forgive yourself if something had happened to her.Â
You ran from corner to corner as you helped some of the men and Fedaykin lead the people out to the rocks outside. Stilgar wasnât too far and was shouting orders for the people to stay calm as rushing would only make things worse.Â
You could see some bodies already lathering the floor as people passed you with missing appendages, tears in their eyes and their skin covered in blood. You probably didnât fare much better - dust had covered your skin and your sight had been hindered. Still, you pushed through. I have to find her.
âY/n!â You looked to Stilgar. âGet out of here!â He shouted and you shook my head, he sighed and you continued searching around for her, and helping people to the exit.Â
From the corner of your eyes, you saw a large boulder rushing towards a little girl who was crying and screaming for her parents. You ran, as fast as you could and swept her up in your arms and out of the way before the rock could hit her. A woman who must have known her, grabbed her from you, and you urged them towards the exit.Â
Still, you couldnât find her, and the attacks didnât stop. Most people were out, and you hadnât caught a glimpse of her or even heard a mention of her name. Why did I leave her?
You suddenly found yourself on the ground as you were knocked down. You watched with blurry eyes, as you were trampled on as feet rushed past you. No one stopped to help you. Before you surrendered to the darkness, you heard Stilgarâs voice screaming your name, and your last thought was to Jessica. I hope sheâs safe. Please be safe.
â--------------------
You slowly open your eyes to darkness, and for a moment you were afraid you had lost your eyesight. You slowly sat up, every bone in your body protesting and looked around before letting out a sigh of relief. You were in a cave and could see and hear the hustling around.
You got up, your movements slow and tentative before walking out and into the desert. You could see the damage that had been done, people around you were crying, and shouting. So many lost, who had done this? You could feel anger resurfacing in you, and you were suddenly reminded that Jessica was still missing.Â
All around you, people were busy doing something as you looked for her. You noticed Shishakli some paces away and quickly walked to her. She noticed you and pulled you in a hug, only slightly hurting you.
âThank the Maker,â she whispered as you closed your arms around her. âYou scared me, Stilgar and Chani have been so worried. We all were,â she said as you separated from the hug, but her hands stayed on your forearms.
You felt a slight pang of guilt at not having spared a thought to her and the others. Â
âWhat happened?â You asked, your voice coming out hoarse.
âHarkonnensâ she growled. âThey used some primitive explosives on us. Caught us by surprise. Weâre treating our wounded before making our way South. A council has been called.â She explained.Â
âIs Stilgar in any shape to speak?â You asked in concern, looking around for him.Â
âHe looks shaken up, but heâll be okay. I hear heâs pushing for Usul to speak,â she said and you looked at her in shock. Only leaders could speak in the South.Â
Surely - No. Paul wouldnât. Of that you were certain. You had spent enough time with his mother to know what he was and wasnât capable of. A voice in the back of your head whispered: Paul wouldnât, but what about the Kwisatz Haderach?
You banished those thoughts. And focused on your friend and what you really cared about.Â
âWhere is the Reverend Mother?â you asked, the concern and urgency detectable even to your ears. Without a word, Shishakli pointed behind you, where you could see two people standing at the very top of a rock.Â
âHer and Usul are discussing as she waits for her palanquin to be ready to leave.â You thanked her, before rushing towards the two Atreides.Â
You arrived as their conversation ended and Paul was leaving. He nodded at you in greeting.
âIâm glad youâre okay,â he said, with a glance back at his mother. âTake care of my mother and sister for me, will you?â he asked as you nodded. The âwith my lifeâ was implied. And he left, seemingly satisfied with your answer.Â
You were left alone with his mother. You took a breath before looking at her, she was staring right back at you. Her eyes said more than you could understand. Something about the way she looked at you was different.Â
âIâm sorry,âÂ
âIâm sorryâÂ
You smiled as you spoke at the same time. âNo, wait. Iâll go first.â you started. âIâm sorry I left like that, I was angry. Iâm still angry, but I got so scared when I couldnât find you. I looked around until I passed out, not kn-â You were cut off as you felt yourself rambling.
Jessica had crossed the small distance between you and pulled in a hug, her head resting in the crook of your neck. You held your breath for a moment, before wrapping your arms around her and breathing in her scent. You could finally breathe normally, for the first time since breakfast.Â
âI wish you hadnât looked for me,â she whispered in your neck, making you shiver. âI had to be dragged away. I was so worried when the first attack hit and I couldnât find you anywhere, I watched and waited for you to come out - and when you finally did...â she hugged you tighter, before stepping away and staring into your eyes. âIâm sorry I used The Voice on you, I shouldnât have done that. I will never do that again. Not to you.â she whispered the last part as she cupped your cheek with her hand.Â
âThank you,â You whispered, moved by her heartfelt apology and by the fact that she had been so worried about your safety.
She smiled before becoming more serious. âY/n,â she started, and you looked at her prompting her to continue. âI-â A voice cut her off and you put some distance between you.
âYour palanquin is ready, Reverend Mother.â said a voice at the foot of the rocks, and she thanked the man.Â
âIn the South,â she said with a sigh. âEverything will come to a head in the South; there, we will talk,â she said as she started her descent to the palanquin.Â
â------------------------------------
Except you didnât talk. Things had been too busy for you to have a moment alone, long enough to put your cards on the table.Â
She had become simultaneously more secretive and more caring. And then, Paul had died, and she had remained oddly quiet.Â
This was the woman who worried about him daily, while he was fighting with the Fedaykin, yet she stared emotionlessly at the pale face of her firstborn, while others all around wept. Your eyes widened in understanding when Chani came storming in, how not to believe when you are faced with the hard cold facts? Paul was the Kwisatz Haderach, the Lisan al Gaib, the Mahdi. And Jessica was not just a mere Reverend Mother.Â
You were in a trance as you followed Chani into a room that had been assigned to her. You watched as she walked around the room, her anger loud and clear.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you asked finally, pushing your thoughts aside to focus on her distress.Â
âIâm leaving.â She said as she pushed her clothes into her bag. âI will not watch as we cheer and support our new oppressor. Even if itâs Paul, the man I love.â she said angrily and she harshly wiped a tear from her cheek.Â
âI think thatâs the problem,â you said softly.Â
âWhat?â she asked as she continued packing and you made yourself comfortable on the bed.Â
âThe problem is, you love Paul,â you said louder as she looked at you. âYou love Paul - that boy who has lost everything and doesnât know who he is; you love Usul - the man you were trying to create, the one who was escaping his destiny. But are you willing to love the Mahdi, the Lisan al Gaib, and the Kwisatz Haderach?â you continued. âAre you willing to love and accept the person he has to become and the things that he has to do? Stand by his side?â Although you were speaking about her situation, the words echoed with you.Â
The weight of the responsibilities which lay on Jessicaâs shoulders had only now become clear, and you found yourself thinking about your role in her life, about your feelings.
âWhat are you doing here?â you looked up at the cold words uttered by Chani and saw the object of your thoughts standing in the doorway. She was dressed down in a simple robe, with no veil obstructing her face, letting you see the tattoos which only served to enhance her beauty. She was beautiful. She was Jessica, not the Reverend Mother with plans within plans - just Jessica. Your heart skipped a beat.Â
Her eyes swept across the room, taking in the clothes thrown about and the bag nearly packed to the brim, before meeting your eyes for just a second and settling on Chani. âI came to thank you and wish you good luck in your ventures,â she said softly.
âI donât need anything from you,â said Chani as she grabbed the rest of her clothes, before making her to the door. I got up to follow her and watched as she stopped next to Jessica. âI hope destroying your son was worth it,â she said angrily, before leaving. You tried to follow her out, but were stopped by a hand on your wrist, forcing you to look at the tattooed woman.Â
âCan we talk?â she asked in that same soft tone. You looked at Chani quickly retreating before nodding. You would catch up.Â
âWhat is it?â You asked in an even tone as you sat back down on the bed, effectively putting distance between you.Â
âAre you thinking of leaving with Chani?â she asked, not wasting any time. You stared at her. You were considering it, yes. But you also didnât want to leave her. She must have sensed your indecisiveness. âIâm sorry if you were put off by all that I had to do, and what I will have to do in the future to ensure that the prophecy is completed. I wish I could say this isnât me, but Iâve been trained for this my whole life, and this is what Iâve become.â she took a deep breath, âThereâs been a lot of confusion in my head lately, but one thing I know for sure is that I love you.â she whispered and your heart skipped a beat. âI wasnât prepared to love you, or anyone for that matter, but I fell for you and only realized when it was too late.â she paused as if to collect her thoughts. âIâm not here to beg you to stay or maybe I am, Iâd very much prefer if you did; if only to keep my heart whole. Whatever the case, I had to say it: I love you. Not like I loved my Duke; itâs different but just as strong, if not more. There isnât any obligation linked to my love for you, yet here I am, and here I shall remain, with my heart in my hands for you to claim - should you want it or not, itâs yours.â she finishes quietly and you stayed quiet as you took the time to process what she just said.
âYou are Jessica, loving, caring, funny, sweet, gentle and sensitive. You are a Bene Gesserit, a Reverent Mother, you are the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach: you are driven, controlling, unrelenting, and secretive.â With each word, you took a step until you were right in front of her. âYou are all that, and I love you. I will not always agree with what you have to do, or understand, but I will still love you and stand by your side. So here I am, and here I shall remain.â You said, echoing her words. âI will take your heart and cherish it - if youâre willing to take mine and do the same,â You said softly as you felt tears run down your face.Â
She looked at you so softly, and traced your cheek with her hand, just as gently, before pulling you impossibly close and whispering: âYour heart will be safe with meâ before pressing her lips to yours in a searing kiss.Â
The road ahead was patchy, but you would walk it forever if it meant you could stay by her side.
#madamevirgowrites#dune#dune part two#lady jessica#lady jessica x reader#rebecca ferguson x reader#rebecca ferguson
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