#modern! Reader

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

tag list : @kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @beenovel

[luimagines]

Omg requests are open!!! Remember to take care of yourself! And 3 requests per person you are so generous!

Anyways how about.... The chain with a stressed out college modern student lmao (maybe they're studying to become a veterinarian, because that's what I'm going to college for this year lol👀)

Remember to take care of yourself and take your time💕💕💞

Oh goodness, this took forever to get to. Um... So how'd your school year go?! Did you start the second year already?

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"GGAAHHH!!!" You yell into your hands, rubbing them over your face and into your hair, trying to not pull it right out of your scalp.

"....I guess they're dead." Wild shrugs unhelpfully, walking calmly past you.

Sky picks up your fallen book, giving you an amused, if concerned look. "Problem?"

"It's too much stuff." You groan, taking the book back. "You know, when I chose to be a vet tech I didn't think it would consist of overloading my brain until it felt like it was leaking out of my ears."

"What's a vet tech?" Wind hops to your side, peering over your arm to get a better look at your book. He has no idea what it says but there's a cute picture of a dog on the front. The book is also very shiny and colorful. He has no idea what it's about.

"A doctor." You say, deciding to put your text book in your bag. "But for animals."

"Think you can take a look at Epona at some point then?" Twilight asks from somewhere to your left. you can't even look at him, your head hurts.

"I guess?" You rub your temples. "I'm still learning and there's only so much my textbook has on horses. But I can try. I'd need some experience anyway."

Hyrule stops and calmly activates the healing spell on his hands. Your head ache goes away at once.

You turn to him gratefully. "Traveler, I'd kill to have that ability of yours."

He smirks. "It's rather convenient, but I thought doctors were healers. No killing for you."

You stick your tongue out at him. He remains unapologetic.

Time puts a hand on your shoulder. "If you need more experience with horses, you're always free to take a look at our horses at Lon Lon."

"For free?" You deadpan.

He meets you head on. "We only pay the professionals, not the trainees."

You pout harder. "I hate that. I get it. But I hate it."

He chuckles.

Four rolls his shoulders and checks your hip simply because he can. "So what's that book about? Animals?"

"It's my text book." You say, patting your bag where it sits safely tucked away. "It has all the information I would need for my classes and then some." You rub your eyes again. "I swear I'm going t have this entire book memorized before I get home. I had a test on Tuesday for crying out loud."

"It's admirable that you're still studying though." Four smirks at you.

"Studying, the only words that very blatantly describes the acts of students dying." You grumble.

Warrior laughs out loud an smacks your back, nearly sending you careening into the gravel trail face first. "I remember those days. I couldn't wait to get away from the desk and on to the field!"

"Yeah?" You say, relaxing a little more at the common experience. "What for?"

"Knight training of course." He shrugs. "Had to learn the laws like the back of our hands. Fighting came after."

"I remember that." Sky stretches his arms over his head. "Hated it."

"No time like the present." Legend shrugs. "You're on the field now whether you like it or not. Nothing like learning on the job."

Somehow, you don't feel like that bodes well for you. "Remember, I'm studying animals, not people."

"We're not all that different though." He pops his back. Legend looks at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye. "You might want to give a check up to Wolfie too, while you're at it."

You smile. "Dogs I can do. Horses will have to wait a little more."

Twilight throws something at Legend head, but you don't know why.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Here And There” Eragon x Reader

(A/N: Requested by the awesome @shewhobreathesfire for a clumsy Modern! Reader who has been made an ambassador for Alagaësia and sent out to Mount Arngor.

Warnings: Very minor angst. Mild language. Use of (Y/N).

Word Count: 1,706 words)

Ambassador of Alagaësia, appointed by Queen Nasuada herself, tasked with exchanging ideas of changes in the land through meetings with Mount Arngor’s leader, and follow protocol.

You found it all to be rushed decisions, really. Not that you would risk voicing that opinion out loud. You couldn’t afford to be foolish in that matter even if all of this was a new experience. You would rather live to tell the tale. Then again, you felt safer away from Alagaësia. From the endless list of laws and social norms.

Mount Arngor, or whichever of the handful of names you wished to call it, stood tall against a blue sky. Grassland stretched out all around it with water sources running close by. The new stronghold grew on one of the many peaks at the base of the mountain, looking extremely tiny in comparison.

At least you had found your way easily enough.

Roughly almost three weeks into walking in your new ambassador position left you questioning yourself. Not only in business matters, but how you were around others. Eragon in particular.

The Dragon Rider had evolved more than you imagined and exactly as you hoped. He had grown well as a leader, working within the community.

All out of Queen Nasuada’s reach. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

She would never see you running your foot into a table after Eragon complimented one of your suggestions for organizing storage. Unfortunately, a handful of dwarves and the other ambassador did. At least they never mentioned it.

I need to pull myself together, you thought as you descended the stairs. Went the wrong way again.

You could surely roll your eyes at yourself.

Barely a month and I have a crush on Eragon. Good job. Very predictable. Making a face, you continued on. Just more work for me. But is it really a new crush or from years of…

“Turned around?”

The sudden familiar voice and presence spooked you. A foot moving where it shouldn’t and you stumbled with a small gasp.

One hand reached out to steady yourself on the wall just as Eragon grabbed ahold of your other arm. His grip helped keep you on your feet and away from tumbling down stone steps.

A quiet curse left your lips as heat rose on your neck.

“Thank you,” you said, muscles remaining tense.

“You’re welcome.”

His hold disappeared once you found your footing.

What are the odds? At least I didn’t hurt myself this time. You exhaled slowly.

“Are you alright?” Eragon questioned, brown gaze trying to read your expression.

“Fine.”

Setting your sights forwards, you took the next steps down carefully.

“Just…questioning my navigation skills.” You added and then muttered. “And gravity, apparently.”

The Dragon Rider kept pace with you. Quiet only for a few moments.

“I’m relieved you’re alright. It would had been quite a fall.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out and finally relaxed as you found yourselves on flat stone.

Tapestries, lights, and rugs decorated the area. Much the same aesthetic as other sparse places in the grand building. They were truly making it into a home.

“Um.” You glanced over to Eragon. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. Again,” he smiled.

His expression could had melted you on the spot.

“I hope you never find yourself in the same circumstance.”

“So do I.” Clasping your hands together, you took a step in another direction. “I’ll…be on my way.”

“All right. Take care.”

“Yup. You too.”

With a quick nod and smile, you scurried off. Your feet taking you anywhere but where you really wanted to be. For how could you spend more time with Eragon when your increasing feelings for him made your very being act out of sorts?

Great job, you thought sarcastically. You have officially turned into a clumsy, stumbling person under the title of ambassador. And always in front of him. Why? Am I doing a good job regardless? Maybe.

Eragon didn’t even know your full story of becoming an ambassador. You never got to the point, the beginning, of how you met Nasuada.

How would you even start the tale? Would he believe you?

Nasuada hardly did.

Yet look how far you had traveled since then.

Have you done all that Queen Nasuada had asked of you of your appointed position of ambassador? On paper, yes. In the way she probably wanted you to, nope.

There was only so much enthusiasm and professionalism you could show with the list she gave you to do.

Send updates? Sure, but you were living in a world where dragons, humans, Urgals, dwarves, and elves existed amongst others. There was so much to experience and a letter to the Queen wasn’t high on your list.

It’s weird how I got this job in the first place, you thought. If I met someone dressed odd, visually confused, and falling out of a portal then I’d keep them under observation and question them more than a few days rather than checking if they have magic. You sighed, your thoughts running off. Then again, I’m alive. Can’t complain there. Less danger here anyway.

* *

A calm, quiet night lightened any mood held with Mount Arngor. Groups of peoples talking beside a fire and others busied themselves with a personal hobby. It made the common area warm in more ways than one.

Sitting alone by a wall light was better than cooping yourself up in your room all night. You had been welcomed into a community after all, might as well see some of it. Plus you might see the handsome Dragon Rider.

All good things.

Your nose was buried in your notes and a focused curve framed your brow. You bothered no one. Content in your own task even without a desk.

Little did you know, that it intrigued a young man. One who decided to indulge in his curiosity.

Eragon took up a seat beside you. No pretenses. No greeting.

“Who’s language is that?” Eragon asked.

Your hand rose away from the parchment.

Awh, crap.

You scrambled to think of an answer that wouldn’t be a paragraph long explanation.

Peeking over from the corner of your eye, you answered, “Human.”

Perfect.

Eragon leaned over, entering your personal space.

Your eyes tracked his movements and you dared not move.

“I haven’t seen script as that before.”

“My handwriting isn’t that bad,” you joked lightly.

“What? No,” he sat back, “I didn’t mean—.” He paused once he saw your expression.

You smiled.

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he asked, “Do you have to write notes all day?”

“No. They’re mainly for me.” You gestured to the dried ink. “I don’t think Nas—uh. Queen Nasuada…. I don’t think she’d be interested in these notes. I hardly think she enjoys my letters.”

“Why would you think that?” He pressed, an edge of seriousness in his tone. “Does she not want to know everything you do here?”

Tilting your head back and forth a couple of times, you finally answered, “Because I was writing about the weather.”

Eyebrows rose, but Eragon said nothing.

“I’m serious.”

Studying you through his brown eyes was enough to make you a little self-conscious. In the very least, his gaze made you overly aware of the proximity between the pair of you.

“Why would you write about the weather?” His seriousness broke down into full perplexity.

“Because I’ve never visited a huge lonely mountain with a bunch of snow on top. What’s it like when it rains a lot? How many sets of stairs even are there? Can dough rise properly here? How are my sinuses doing lately? Important questions.”

A small smile curved the Rider’s lips.

He thinks this is funny or agrees? You wondered. So many darn questions. And he’s cute. GAH! Not now.

“You should see the mountain in the winter. The winds are strong and the cold bites.”

You hummed in thought, saying, “Perhaps I should inform her of the weather extensively.” You bit back a chuckle. “She kind of threw this job on me without much warning.”

“She trusts you.”

“That’s the thing.” You whispered. “She doesn’t know me well enough or long enough to trust me personally, but…I’m here as an ambassador and I have no idea if I’m doing it properly.”

A concerned frown crossed Eragon’s features.

You did not know where you were going with the conversation, but you needed to tell him something about yourself. Your situation. A hint of the truth.

“You’ve literally seen me trip over my own feet. I cross my fingers and hope I don’t fumble when addressing people, Eragon.”

“You’re new to the position. Not everything turns out as you expect.”

Exhaling, you glanced at your writing. More than simple notes of the weather.

“You’re doing well.” His words were soft. Genuine.

The words of encouragement sprung a lightness in your chest you could not acknowledge without tempting fate with a surge of clumsiness in yourself.

“Thank you, but…uh… I literally talk differently, spent well over a decade as a student, and I’m not from here. And yet she still sent me here.”

“What?”

“Exactly. What credibility do I have? Why me?”

Eragon turned in his seat to face you directly.

The change in his demeanor caused you to lose grip of your pen.

“Why does where you’re from matter about being named an ambassador?”

Immediately, you opened your mouth to respond with an answer about your true origins, however you said nothing. Mouth closed. You shrugged.

Eragon held your gaze in time of two breaths before speaking again.

“Is there something you can not tell me?”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I did, but,” you glanced over to where an Urgal sat down, “this place is very different from what I’m used to. Magic and all.”

“Will you tell me more about where you’re from one day? When you’re not writing about weather.”

“I might…if you help me find my pen.” You leaned over to check near your feet.

“Deal.” Eragon placed the pen atop of your notes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome, (Y/N).” His voice was warm, inviting.

A flutter in your stomach teased you.

Oh. Why’d he say my name LIKE THAT?

~~~

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[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓷

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧, 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ᴡɪꜰᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ! ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ! ɢꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: SPOILERS from the books, character deaths, a bit of a graphic death description, assassinations, blood pacts, angst but fluff. Reincarnation Au

Author’s note: I re-watched Maya and the three and the Book of life. I fell in love with the sun and moon theory that I wanted to write something similar with Aemond and wife! reader. I think this song fits the fic.

It all started with a promise, the night of your wedding you had promised to one another that you’ll always be together for ever. A small blood pact was made to seal this promise.

Everything was great between the two of you, he was the husband of your dreams, a true prince charming from the fairy tales you read, you could not ask for more. Aemond felt as if he could not live with out you, he was glad that his mother had matched the both of you and you were his perfect match. You were his other half.

Most of the time you both would be inseparable, the only time you’d separate was due to duties. You both would take walks in the garden and talk, in the day at night. That’s when the nicknames began.

During the day, Aemond would always seem to glow with the felt of the son. His hair would seem brighter along with his eye and skin. You had began to call him your Sun, to you he was the depiction of what a Sun God would look like. He was also the light of your life, he was the flame to your candle.

At the night, you were the one that glowed, just like him both your hair, eyes, and skin glowed by the help of the moon. You had become his Moon, if a Moon goddess had a physical figure, that’d be you, his wife, his Y/n. During his most darkest time you were there for him, you were his light from his darkness.

But conflict began to rise, the war between the greens and the black had began when your husband had killed their son. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly. What hit harder was the death of the innocent prince, Helaena’s oldest son, at this point you knew no one was safe, this war will involve both Fire and Blood.

The night was normal, this time you were alone since your husband had to attend a council meeting with the new King. During the day you had tried talking to the Queen, Helaena. She did not say one word, she had become a shell. She no longer left her room, bathed, ate, or drank water, it hurt you seeing the once sweet and innocent princess slowly killing herself due to the great guilt she felt.

You had dismissed your handmaiden for the night, you just wanted to be alone to process everything that was happening. She had left you your favorite tea on the small table for you to drink. You took the small porcelain cup and took a couple sips, the tea had tasted bitter, you added some sugar to sweeten it a bit. 

Then you began to cough, this cough was not one of when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe, but on as if you were trying to cough out your own stomach. Then you began to feel your throat shut in. Desperately you tried to claw at you neck and tried screaming for help, but nothing came out.

Blood began to pour from out your eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, It hurt so bad. You were laying on the ground, trying so hard to call someone, anyone. Then someone came in, it was him, your sun, your husband.

“Y/n!?” In a panic Aemond ran to you and held you in his arms, he got a good look at you, see that your once bright skin was now a deathly color of purple and red, your eyes were now a blood shot red and the blood. He knew of this poison, he could not help you any longer, it was too late. The least he could do if hold you and comfort you as you passed, painfully.

“I...love...you” those were your last words to him before you had finally rested in peace. That night Aemond had cried, holding onto your body all night until the began to rise, he wanted blood, he will avenge you even if it kills him, your death will not go unavenged. 

Weeks had passed since you had died, since then Aemond had not been able to sleep without you. He could not get any sleep, so he’d go for a walk in the garden like he used too. It did not feel the same, it felt cold with out you, but when he looked up at the sky, he saw the full moon. The moon looked beautiful tonight, if only you were here.

He got a closer look towards the moon, he could not believe his eyes. He saw you, the moon had your beautiful face painted on it. Aemond thought he must have been hallucinating due to the lack of sleep, but no, that was you, it had to be you, no one shared that unique beauty but you. He felt a tear fall from his eye “My moon, my Y/n” he whispered as he closed his eye, feeling your presence next to him.

Who knew Aemond would of met his fate, the battle Above The Gods Eye. Vhagar and Caraxes along with their riders would die. With Caraxes ripping at Vhagar throat as she had crawled at his stomach. The Rogue prince Daemon had stabbed his swords through his nephew's one and only good eye, until his blade pierced through his throat, Aemond’s lasts words was the name of his beloved wife Y/n. Later his body had been retrieved with Dark Sister still pierced through his eye. 

He will finally be at piece with his wife, but gods had mother plans.

𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

You were an art student at a university in England, you had moved from your home to London. During that time you had met a man, his name was Aemond Targaryen, he was from a wealthy family that everyone knew off. You met at a bookstore, the bookstore you worked at. He had come in to buy some books and he came across you, who helped him find the books he needed.

Since then you had began hanging out and those hand out turned into dates, then finally you began to date. During your relationship, you had felt as if you had met him before, like if you knew each other in a different life of some kind. Aemond also looked like the man from your dreams. From that dream it was also a painting that you were working on called “The Moon and The Sun”

It was of two lovers who had promised to stay with one another forever, a war had happened and they had sacrificed a lot of things in hopes of keeping their loved ones safe. Sadly they both died but their gods had granted them their wish of staying together, by turning the woman into the Moon and the man into the sun, so that they can be together in the sky for all eternality. That dream always felt so real. 

Today was another date, at an art museum. You both had a love of art and history so why not go to an art museum. You had come across a painting of a woman, wearing a peach colored gown and she was sitting in a garden surrounded by flowers at night, the moon had been shinning bright to her. She looked beautiful, you had also noticed how her features looked similar to yours, her eyes, her hair, along with her nose and face structure, she looked just like you.

Not to mention the painting next to her, the man also looked similar to Aemond. Same eye, hair except his was longer while his was cup in a bob, nose, lips, everything. This time he was sitting on a large green dragon, flying towards the sun. The bigger question was, why did they look similar to the couple in your dream? It must be a coincidence. 

That night you worked on your painting, ever since you got back from the art museum, you had got to work non stop, you felt as if it needed to be finished. You had fallen sleep on the couch, your paintbrushes scattered on the floor, dried paint on your hands and shirt, you didn’t notice you had fallen asleep. When you got up, you cleaned everything up and put everything away, your painting was finally complete, you couldn’t wait to show it to Aemond. 

That night you invited Aemond to your house for dinner, when you got home, you cooked and made sure everything was perfect for when he came, when you arrived, you both had dinner and now you were about to show him the painting.

“I have something to show you” you said now excited as you guided Aemond towards the living room where your painting had been hanging. “Oh really? What may that be” he said as he followed you “You’ll see” you said as you. “There it is!” you said as Aemond looked up, seeing his facial expression turning into one of awe.

The painting was a couple, a man and a woman. The man had long white hair, an eye patch on his left eye, his good eye was closed, and he was wearing a dark type of attire. Meanwhile the woman behind him had her arms wrapped around his waist, her hair was the same color, length and texture as yours, same with her skin and she wore a rose colored gown. The couple was riding on a creature, a large forest green colored dragon. As for the sky, the sky was split in both day and night. The day was directed towards the male and the night was directed toward the female. 

“Do you like it? I call it ‘The Moon and The Sun’“ You said a bit nervous as Aemond turns towards you with a smile painted on his lips. “I love it, the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever set my eye on” he said leaning in and kissed you on the corner of your lip causing you to laugh. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer. “I love you, my sun” you whispered so he could only here you address him. “And I love you, my moon”

[soleilapproves]

Older boyfriend Price who is absolutely DISTRAUGHT over the fact that you don’t care about marriage because you think he’s over it.

Note: this one has no smut but it has mentions of sex and sexual relations so interact at your own discretion. Reader is in mid twenties.

Masterlist

“What the fuck do you mean by you don’t want to?” If Price had been any louder, anyone outside his car would’ve been able to hear him.

It had been a few months into your relationship with Price after almost a year of being friends with benefits. You weren’t sure how your arrangement changed over time but you were glad to be with him as he valued you a lot.

“I mean, think about it. You’re like, what? 40-“

“I’m 37, love”

“Right, yeah, I just think that it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re having fun together. Honestly, I thought you’d agree.” You said before taking a bite out of your burger.

Price could only watch you in shock. Sure, your relationship started on the basis of sexual benefits but when he did think of the future all he thought of was you. Even if you were a generation younger than him, he had never felt such synergy with anyone before. It was a connection of a lifetime - emotional and sexual.

“So you don’t give a shit about marriage because you think I don’t care about it.”

“Kind of. If I’m gonna get married I need my partner to be on board too, don’t you think?” He sighed at your reply. You looked up at him, confused and cheeks full with your dinner as you grabbed the plastic cup of coke.

His heart swelled at the sight. It was like looking at an innocent chipmunk. To think that the same face looked fucked out an hour ago awed him but he couldn’t let himself get distracted by your unintentional seduction.

He grabbed your drink and put it back in the cupholder. You were about to whine but he grabbed your face and pulled you close, noses almost touching.

“You-“ peck “-are the most wonderful thing to happen to me and I’ll be damned if I don’t tie you down with me in the future.”

Your face heated up. You had swallowed your food not too long ago but your mouth felt like it had gone dry.

With your face in his hands he continued. “I’ll have a rock on your pretty little finger before you know it.” He left a longer peck on your lips this time and pulled away.

What you didn’t know was that he already had a ring for you. It was stored away in a hidden drawer in his desk, waiting to be worn by you.

In fact, he had brought it just a month into your relationship. He wasn’t religious but he knew that a person like you was the blessing of a lifetime.

[simonz-angel]

“fuckin’ look at me.”

the growl of words bounces in your mushy skull, watery eyes blinking till pretty crystal tears drip down the apples of your cheeks.

you’re lost, fluttering eyes fighting the fog, the way he reaches into your guts. it has you struggling and gasping.

yet, when simon’s fingers curl tight round your jaw, thick digits pressing dimples into the fat of your cheeks, you finally start to snap into reality.

“yeah, baby,” he laughs down into your face, teeth glistening in the soft bedside lamp. “i’m here, i’m here.”

and it’s not a sweet coo, it’s a harsh taunting, a mere joke to him to watch your eyes cross, and roll.

“t-too much, si, n-no” and it’s a broken, desperate cry, hands violently pawing at the backs of his thighs when he shoves himself meters into you.

you can feel every ridge, every vein, the way the tip of his pretty cock lays sweet frenchies against your cervix. and he stills, letting you really accommodate to the mere length, the width of him.

“let me see your pretty eyes, baby,” he huffs, breath heavy against your face in a way that does nothing but suffocate you. “you tired? you done?”

and your silence speaks for you, eyes bouncing back and forth from pupil to pupil. you can’t focus, the tips of your toes digging deep into his calves almost angrily.

it feels too good, in a way that has you squirming up like you’re under some spell.

“that’s what i thought,” he coughs up in a laugh, taking you by the lips aggressively. he lets his tongue open you up, and he explores your mouth carefully, hips pulling back as he readies himself. “now just be pretty for me and take it, yeah, hun?”

ion even know, this is so fucked 🤦‍♀️ send mama requests.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[leafavleo]

GHOST uses to workout quite frequently, because of his job in military. He never admits it loud, but he likes to be in good shape. He likes the glances that you’re sending him when he’s taking off his shirt on purpose to present you his muscular back, covered in black ink tattoos.

There’s only one thing that he hates during his daily routine — push ups. He doesn’t know why he dislikes to do that workout, it’s just happen. He prefers other exercises, but while he’s at home, without the gym equipment, it’s just what’s left for him to stretch those arms muscles more.

But fortunately, recently you’ve got an idea of how to make this workout more pleasant for him. You find yourself on the floor, underneath Ghost while he’s grunting and sweating. It’s not what you think it is, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t making you feel in a certain way.

You like the view from down there. He’s shirtless and the only piece of clothing that he wears are the grey sweatpants. The way he’s looking and sounding makes you want to wrap your legs around his waist and just keep him down.

“Don’t try to give up, because you’ll squish me.” You giggle once Ghost makes another push up, giving you a quick kiss in meantime.

“Not gonna, doll.” He says back in breathy tone, pushing himself back up. He grunts again and lower himself down, giving you another kiss.

You make this exercise quite enjoyable for him.

[khioneee]

simon’s first instinct was always to protect you—before himself, before anyone or anything else. whether in dangerous situations or small, everyday moments, his reflexes kicked in without hesitation. every action was a subtle yet undeniable promise: i’ll always keep you safe.

sidewalk rule? it was non-negotiable. he always made sure he was between you and the street, shielding you from traffic. if you drifted too close to the curb, his hand would find the small of your back, guiding you firmly to his side.

“stay here,” he would murmur, his tone gentle yet resolute, as if daring the world to try anything.

whenever the car came to a sudden halt, simon’s arm instinctively shot out in front of you, bracing against your chest. the seatbelt should’ve been enough, but he never trusted anything more than his own reflexes.

“you alright?” he’d ask, his hand lingering just a little longer, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

in a crowded space, simon always led the way, carving a path with his broad frame. his hand would stay on yours or at your back, making sure you stayed close. and on a full train, he caged you in without hesitation, using his size to shield you from the press of strangers. his arms rested casually against the poles, but his stance was clear—no one would get too close.

whether you were climbing into the car or walking through a door, simon’s hand would always reach out to guide your head, ensuring you didn’t bump it. in the kitchen, he’d gently tilt your head away from open cabinets, all without thinking. it was pure instinct—small actions that spoke louder than words.

one night at 3 a.m., a car backfired down the street, the sound tearing through the stillness. before you could even react, simon had you pinned beneath him, his body shielding yours entirely. his heart raced, convinced it was a bomb. even after realizing it wasn’t, he didn’t let go, whispering against your ear, “i’ve got you, lovie.”

you could wear whatever you wanted—simon never cared. he wasn’t possessive, but confident. no one would dare glance too long in your direction, not with him at your side. and if anyone was foolish enough to try, one sharp look from simon was enough to make them think twice.

with simon, protection wasn’t just instinct—it was devotion. in every gesture, every glance, every step, he ensured you knew: your safety will always come first. because to simon, loving you meant keeping you safe—always, no matter the cost.

[lxvvie]

Simon who married your family when he married you.

He wasn't used to it, the open affection your relatives showered him with. He would die before he admitted it, but he was nervous as shit when he first met them. First impressions sometimes created lasting impressions and he didn't want you to feel torn if shit went left.

And then he met them and "Welcome to the family!" That's the first thing that your mother said when meeting him. Okay.

"Well sit down, baby. We don't bite none," is what your grandmother greeted him with. Sure, why not.

And then it snowballed from there.

He'd never been one for pet names. Didn't really care for 'em until you came along, but every time your grandmother calls him Baby he melts. He bloody fuckin' melts. A huge puddle of goo. Simon realizes why you're so protective of her and he becomes the same way, too. He's her Baby and she's his Girl. He doesn't make the rules, he only enforces them. You can only roll your eyes and shake your head as your grandmother gleefully continues to indulge his sweet tooth.

Your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings weren't any better, calling him Son, Brother, Nephew, Cousin and similar, clapping his back, including him in things, inquiring about his wellbeing, and bloody fuckin' hell Simon realizes he actually has a family now whether he likes it or not.

It didn't truly hit him until you two wed and your parents, your mom with tears in her eyes and your father beaming with pride, declared that they had a new son to love.

A new son. A new brother. A new nephew. A new cousin. A new baby.

A new family all his own.

And fuck if Simon didn't feel the lump forming in his throat.

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[luimagines]

Can i request a thing where modern!reader teaches the chain about rhythm games?

-🍄

Yes.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"You have to hold it for longer." You explain gently.

"This too hard!"

"Because you keep doing it wrong." Legend snorts. "Let me try."

"Let him finish."

Another bad score. Another embarrassing defeat.

"This game sucks." Wild growls, tossing your device back to you.

"You have to listen to the music other wise you're going to struggle with it anyway." You roll your eyes and restart the game.

"Let me try!" Wind cries happily, wanting to snatch the device out of your hands before you can set up an easier level.

"No way! I said I was next!" Legend tries to block the young boy. You however, are doing your best to not get trampled.

Time passes without much comment, only sparing your small group with a disinterested glance before walking away.

You get an idea.

"Hey Old Man! Wanna give it a try?" You stand quickly, wanting to catch him before he decides to "run away" from the chaos you're not creating.

You see him sigh internally before turning to you, deciding to humor you. "What is it?"

"I have a rhythm game I've been trying to master." You grin with hidden delight. "Try it. It's easy."

"Lies!" Wild calls from the distance.

Time raises a cool eyebrow. For a moment you think that he's not going to do anything about it and leave you to your devices.... But he holds his hand out.

You grin and hand him the device. You teach him the way the game works ad soon everyone huddles around to watch him try and take out the level. He keeps getting higher and higher, beating boss after boss.

Everyone is enthralled with watching him.

It takes fifteen minute before he finally gets bested by one of the harder levels and hands it back to you with an unimpressed face. "It's alright."

"Alright?!" Legend all but screams. "That was incredible! How did you keep going?!"

Time shrugs and stands. "It wasn't difficult."

Four has to physically restrain Wild from throwing an apple at Time's head. Twilight and Warrior are trying to fight Legend for a turn on the game next while you're back to setting the little character back to the lower levels.

Sky continues to watch but doesn't seem to interested in giving it a try.

You grin towards Time and tilt your head. "He's not wrong. For someone who's never come close to this kind of game, you're really good at it. Got any story to explain why that is?"

"Maybe." Time shrugs.

You wait for him to elaborate.

Time smirks and walks away.

"WHAT?! Nothing!?? Not even a crumb!?"

[where-dreamers-go]

Oh I wonder what would happen if Eragon catches modern!reader humming or straight up singing songs from their world.

Hi there.

Hmmm.

Well, Eragon's time with music has been with dwarves celebrating while Saphira got absolutely drunk where she sang from Eragon, right? Then knowing elves have musical minds. Elves use magic to sing boats and such into shape. Plus elves performed music at the Blood Oath ceremony, right? But not recreationally. (They have a "critique" on his poem.) Eragon hasn't been around bards in court or in a tavern.

So, with that be said, Eragon wouldn't be shocked of modern! Reader's humming or singing, BUT he would be of lyrics or rhythm. That difference might catch his attention.

Has Eragon heard a song about something that doesn't recall ACTUAL events?

How would Eragon react to hearing about music being a hobby, a career, or a favorite past time to listen to?

The different genres!!!

For example and funnies:

Why Should I Worry - "It's about a dog singing to a kitten named Oliver." The look of confusion on the Dragon Rider's face, imagine.

Beat It - "So, Eragon, do you want to guess what 'funky' means?" "No."

Prince Ali - "I had no idea one person could change their voice so. Are you certain you didn't use magic?" "Eragon, I'll take that as a compliment."

???

What song would you be humming or singing if you were modern! Reader?

[urmomschocolatemilk]

I 🩷 bikers

Biker!Simon who’s tatted uppp. He’s rolling up his sleeves while he rides to let everyone get a look at his muscly arms laced with inked designs because yes, he does want to show off

Biker!Simon who's rolling up next to you at a red light, head turning while he thrums his fingers on the seat under him. He can feel your heated gaze through your window.

Biker!Simon who flips open his visor and lets his eyes find yours. He wants you to know that he sees you staring and he's staring right back at you

Biker!Simon who passes his phone to you with the new contact sheet open on his screen, ready for you to fill out

Biker!Simon who trashes on the TikTok bikers and calls them cornballs but doesn’t hesitate to send you photos of him in a compression shirt and helmet at any chance he gets

Biker!Simon who buys you a helmet before your first date, and takes you home. And no matter how much you beg him that night, he refuses to go above sixty on the highway because he why would he ever put his girl at risk like that?

[mishietishie]

Been thinking about modern! husband Sukuna who's a tattoo artist and his wife who's a kindergarten teacher <3

You're about to do an arts and crafts project with the kids, but when you notice you forgot your art supplies, your heart ached with the thought of seeing the little one's dissapointed faces. Luckily for you, your husband is on break and brought them to your class!

The little students are all shocked when they see a big, scary man enter their class and kiss their sweet teacher's cheek. they all surround him and start bombarding him with questions as to if he's a superhero because he looks so strong

Once Sukuna got through the dozens of questions by the little bastards, (his words, not mine!!), he gets dragged by them to join them on their art project. And how could he refuse when they gave him puppy eyes along with your sweet smile and voice asking him so nicely?

Yeah, just modern! Sukuna <3

[whateveriwant]

I know I’ve already gone on and on about what it’s like to have a size difference with Simon Riley, but I’m sorry, I just will never get over how big and strong this man is.

Like I feel like sometimes his size gets lost on us since he’s surrounded by other tall, buff military guys all the time. But y’all, I’m telling you, this man is big. Like 6’4, 250+ pounds, big enough to eclipse the sun big.

With a man that big, it honestly doesn’t even matter what size you are because he’s always going to be bigger and stronger than you anyway. You can be tall, short, stocky, thin, whatever, and this man is still fully capable (and willing? 👀) of snapping you in half like a twig.

Are you worried about potential home invaders? Well, you shouldn’t be. One quick flick of his wrist and he’s breaking the neck of anyone who tries to threaten you. Did you accidentally lock yourself out of the house? Well, don’t bother calling a locksmith. There’s no lock left to pick after he’s just caved the door in with his foot. Do you have a really stubborn jar you’re struggling to open? Well, hand it over, love. He can crack that sucker open in half a second flat.

But Lord, don’t even get me started when it comes to all the ways Simon uses that strength of his in the bedroom.

Like when he tells you to sit on his face so he can eat you out. Don’t even try it with that nervous, hovering, “I’m too heavy, Si,” bullshit. You better sit your ass down right when and where he tells you to or he’ll hold you down by the hips until he’s had his fill.

Or when, after a night of heavy flirting and teasing, he’s got that look in his eye as he corners you against your entryway wall. Don’t be surprised when one moment your feet are firmly planted on the ground, and the next you’re lifted into the air, your legs slung over his arms as he drills into you like you’re his own little fuck puppet.

Or when he’s got you spread out on his bed, got your knees up by your ears, got the backs of your thighs burning in a way that’s matched only by how your walls have to stretch to take his thick cock. Don’t think he’s being mean or malicious when he sees your eyes well with tears but does nothing to change the way he’s fucking down into you. It’s not that Simon doesn’t care whenever you cry and quiver and plead with him to go easier on you, it’s that he knows the truth. He knows that, deep down, you love when he handles you like he isn’t afraid to break you.