Word Count: 1,291
Warnings/Notes: Laundry day for the Reader, soreness from overworking, established relationship, lighthearted teasing, hurt/comfort sorta fluff.
Summary: Having a self proclaimed laundry day, the Reader gets a visit from Murtagh, who helps to comfort them after spending too long attending to chores.
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Birds chirped with pleasant tones and short melodies. Spring had finally come around. It was quite the day to enjoy the weather and its overall splendor.
Were you frolicking through fields or flying through the scattered clouds on a dragon? No, but you did have a nicely shaded area near your home. Both were far enough away from any possible commotion the other residents of the mountain could have. The only commotion around, was your own.
Sitting on a short stool outside, you were prepared. You had folded up a small blanket to act as a cushion to the stool. There was always the chance that you would be sitting there for far longer than you intended. The reason for it all, was in the water filled tub in front of you. Laundry day. It had to be done eventually, and honestly, you wanted it completed sooner rather than later. Later, you fully intended to relax your arms and back beside a very loving individual.
“There you are!” A voice carried to your serene little spot.
Glancing over, you saw Murtagh stride over. The smile on his face made your chest grow warm. “Have you come to assist me?”
He gave a laugh, reaching your side in a few more steps. “You know very well that I’m no good at that,” he reminded you.
“Oh, you weren’t that bad.”
“I tore a trouser last time.”
His slight exasperation made you giggle. “At least you weren’t wearing them when you did.”
“Oh,” he threw a hand up, “as if it weren’t bad enough.”
He paused as he regarded you. A flicker of a change in his face that you failed to identify. Kneeling, his focused eyes remained on your own. “Why do you tease me so? Have you a quarrel with me, my love? A stain on a tunic that I had missed its own creation? One of my own doing?”
“No. Definitely not. It is you who is teasing now, good sir,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “Why is that?”
A smile slowly grew on the corner of his lips. “I do believe that we are at an impasse. For neither of us will admit to teasing the other.”
“I only teased you because I know that you mean well. You try, and do, your best with helping with the chores, and I appreciate that,” you assured him, your hands still dripping wet on the edge of the tub. ‘And you’ll improve. It only takes practice.“
Murtagh leaned closer, the weight of his arm pushing onto the top of his thigh. “And you, my dear, need no practice.”
Your heart fluttered at his lopsided grin. “You’re impressed with me, Murtagh?” You asked, glancing down from a wave of bashfulness.
“Very much,” he said. The warmth of his hand as he placed it gently on your bare arm, sent a chill over you.
The genuineness and honesty he always displayed was almost palpable. In some moments, you craved it. Wished for its touch. But with Murtagh in your company and in your companionship, it was constant. A constant that you were most pleased with
“Are you going to keep staring at me like that, Murtagh?” You questioned him with a smile.
“Only if you wish it of me,” he paused, the corner of his mouth quirking up faintly again. “And I was gazing, not staring. There’s a difference.”
“Of course there is,” you shook your head at him.
“But who would I be if I stopped the progress of your work, only to bombarde you with words,” he offered with a humorous shrug.
“Your brother.”
“I would certainly hope not…he has been in meetings for hours.”
“Oh, so you’re hiding from such things by being with me,” you turned your attention back to the tub of tasks in front of you. “That’s just my luck.”
“And so your teasing continues, I see,” he said, forever amused.
“You did come running to see me.”
A bark of laughter rang out in your secluded area. “You’re not wrong. Why stroll when I could be in your presence sooner, longer?”
“Because you had to find me first.”
“You’re not that difficult to find.”
It was easy to smile at his words, genuine as they were. You sat up straight to stretch your back, but felt an unpleasant twinge when you did.
“Working too long?” Murtagh asked, his voice soft yet holding an air of concern.
You frowned, looking down at the nearly complete task before you. “Yes, but it needs to be done,” you looked to him, almost solemnly.
“Why don’t you let those soak for a while, and you rest?”
You squinted your eyes at him, reviewing his offer. “Is that a suggestion or…”
“A pleading suggestion. You know that if you were to continue, it’ll only fell worse.”
“True,” you grumbled.
“Let them soak overnight, and I’ll hang them to dry in the morning.”
“You’re much too good to me.”
“You deserve it, even when you don’t believe so.”
As you dried your hands on a small towel, Murtagh stood. You thought that he would surely assist you with standing, but not what had actually occurred.
No sooner your hands were dry, he scooped you up into his arms. A small noise escaped your lips and he froze.
“Did I harm you?”
“No,” you responded quickly. “Just…a little surprised.”
Gazing at you, Murtagh smiled fondly. It was entirely pleasant to see him with his guard completely down. You took such a thing quite seriously, it was a great compliment.
With your arms securely around his shoulders, he walked you both indoors. Granted, you had to be sure to tuck in your legs lest you run then into a doorway despite Murtagh’s best efforts.
Just past the main threshold of your home, Murtagh paused. “Where would you prefer to relax?” He asked, his face incredulously close to yours as he inquired of you.
“The couch there is just fine.” You did not want him to go far out of his way to attend to you, even if you were enjoying his closeness.
With a nod, he obliged. Swift footwork from him took the pair of you over to the couch. Where you thought he would set you down gently, he instead carefully sat himself parallel with the furnishing, and placed you down promptly between his legs.
You let out a laugh. “Am I to use you as a pillow now for my own comfort, Murtagh?”
“You may.” A smile in his voice brought out your own. The ease of which he took your hands in his and gently massaged his thumbs over your hands, easing your overworked tendons was as close to perfection as you had ever achieved.
“You intend to spoil me?”
“Fully and completely, if you’ll allow me.”
“Who would I be to refuse such a gesture?” You added, leaning back against his chest. “It would be entirely foolish of me, I think.”
“You have every right to refuse.”
“Oh, I am very well aware.”
“Even as sore as you are, and you still have the capacity to bring a smile about my face?” He asked, his hands slowly working their way up your arms.
“Is it a rare talent to possess?” You asked, feeling the press of his lips to the side of your head.
“Not for you.”
A content laugh fell from your lips at his words. And as his thumbs rubbed into your aching muscles, your eyelids became heavy. “Murtagh?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you be leaving here anytime soon?”
“No, why?” He asked, no pause in his attentions to you.
“This feels…very nice,” you smiled to yourself, drifting off to the ministrations of Murtagh’s care.
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Just thinking about the first time Murtagh lets you hug him (or hugs you). Like really hugs you and just holds you close and fully relaxes into you, while also making sure he's just as much of a home for you and holds you close and rubs your back and nuzzles into your neck, and he sighs and melts when you massage the back of his neck or play with his hair and almost falls asleep that way because you're so soothing for him and he could just stay that way forever.
Word Count: 528
Warnings/Notes: mentions of baking bread and eating it, can be viewed as an established relationship, and Murtagh absolutely losing his table manners because he loves the food so much.
Summary: Murtagh shows up and unexpectedly, to him, gets to enjoy a small snack with a friend.
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The smell of hot, freshly baked bread wafted through the air. It was particularly delicious that morning. The time since you had last baked even one loaf had been far too long.
Taking a deep breath in, you stuttered out a sigh as the ground quaked beneath your feet. A dragon had landed nearby, no doubt. And as you glanced out the open window, you saw ruby scales pass by. Thorn.
In a matter of moments, a rhythmic knock sounded on the front door.
“Thorn,” you barely held back a laugh, “please tell Murtagh that he can come inside. The door is unlocked.” It was not often, at all, that you would call out to a dragon through a window.
Putting a few kitchen items away while you waited, the dragon rider entered the house.
“Oh,” Murtagh blinked, struck by the unseen wall of scent permeating throughout your home. “You’ve been busy, I see,” he smiled, walking closer. His eyes inspected every surface covered with fresh loaves and buns.
“I have,” you nodded kindly. “Have you come with your appetite, or did you lose it on the flight over?”
The corner of his mouth pulled up. “I think I left it here for safekeeping.”
“You would.” Laughing, you shared a happy grin with him before waving him over to the table.
The pair of you sat at the small table, Murtagh swiftly pulling out a chair for you before you had the chance to reach for it yourself.
“Honestly, Murtagh,” you said with a teasing smile, “everyone here combined could not measure up to your manners; so courtly.”
“I think you may be exaggerating a little,” he said, smoothing out his tunic as he sat down. There came a pause about him however, when his eyes caught sight of two empty plates. Convenient. “You were…expecting someone?”
“You, of course.” Gingerly, you set a plate in front of each of you, and placed a warm round bun on the dish-ware. “As if I would spontaneously treat anyone else.”
Murtagh’s gaze met the plate. A faint rosy tint dusting his cheeks. “For that, I am most grateful.”
While you tended to your own little morsel, adding a small slice of butter, you heard a deep sigh off to your side. You peeked over to see that Murtagh’s eyes were momentarily closed. He chewed on the piece of bread heartily. It was as if he had not eaten anything half as good in ages.
You giggled at the sight. “Murtagh?”
The young man glanced up with eyes open wider than usual. There was a softness, a childlike wonder.
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes,” he said with a mouth full of food. “This is delightful.”
A laugh continued to bubble out of you at the sight of him. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“No,” he shook his head promptly, “thank you.”
“Would you like to stay for dinner? I know it’s hours away, but”—
“I’d love to,” he blurted out, all sense of manners and reason completely vanishing.
If that was his reaction to a simple bread, you could only imagine an entire dinner passing his lips.
Word Count: 457
Warnings/Notes: Established relationship, bed cuddles of reassurance
Summary: The peculiar sound of the wind at night disturbs the Reader, they call for Murtagh’s comfort.
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Waking up in the middle of the night was not a habit that you wanted to pick up on. At least not intentionally.
A sliver of blue moonlight stretched across the room from the gap in the curtains. Everything was still, and you were certain that it could not be too far into the night. All the more reason to settle back into the bed and go back to sleep.
With a final stretch, you could reach the cool parts of the bedsheets. However, you froze in-place. The wind outside howled most peculiarly. A chill ran up your spine and you curled into yourself. Sleep, unfortunately, slipped further from your grasp.
As you looked over your shoulder, it appeared as though Murtagh had yet to join you in bed for the night. You did not want to bother him if he was busying himself with something important. Even if that important thing was a leisurely read or speaking with Thorn.
When the wind whistled by the window, you changed your mind. “Murtagh?” You called out to softly to be even remotely heard from across the room, much less the house.
Again, the wind howled. And again you called out to him, a little louder than before.
As his name finished leaving your lips, Murtagh walked into the bedroom. Swiftly, he came upon your side of the bed. “What’s troubling you?” He asked, concern etching his brows as he looked over your current arrangement.
As if answering for you, the wind blew immensely. The suddenness of the sound sent you under the blanket in a blink of an eye.
“I’ll be right back,” he assured, his hand finding one of your shoulders. “I need to put a few things away first.”
He left the room as quietly as he had entered it. By the time he was crawling into bed, you scarcely thought that he had left in the first place.
“Did you run?” You asked in your bewildered curiosity.
“No,” he said, snuggling up with you. “Was I too fast?”
“Not at all,” you replied, pressing yourself into him upon the next gust of wind.
His arms wound their way around you in a lovingly protective embrace. “The wind can’t harm you here,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.
“It’s the sound,” you shuddered. “It’s eerie and unsettling. I’m none too fond of it.”
“Then listen not to it. Ignore its jests for your attention, it so highly seeks.”
Gently, his hand cradled your head to his chest where upon you heard a faint rhythmic thump. As your focus was adjusted to him, the wind became less noticeable. In a matter of minutes, you were lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of Murtagh’s heart.
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