#murtagh insert reader

  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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  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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   Initially, you did not want to disrupt his reading. You never did, and he gave you the same courtesy. But you did at least want to share the same space as him.    Walking back into the sitting room, you were intent on lounging on the couch. It was both comfortable and spacious. However, a certain voice had you stop where you stood.    “You didn’t have to do that,” said Murtagh, referring to the empty glass you had cleaned.    Honestly, with how he reads some times, you were not sure if he had noticed you or not. “I don’t mind doing things for you from time to time. Besides, you washed the dishes last night…and all of this week, now that I think about it.”    He gave a small laugh that brought a smile to your face. “And I like to do things for you as well. You should not have to task yourself with every chore. We share this home, and I will continue to share in the responsibilities that come with it.”    “And I appreciate that,” you said, stepping over to the side of his chair.    “We’re partners and—” he paused as you leaned against the chair’s side, “and I forgot what else I was going to say.”    You laughed in your surprise. “Funny, considering I came in here not wanting to disturb you.”    “Disturb? I welcome your company,” he smiled sweetly at you.    “Murtagh,” you cooed. Bringing your hand near, you slid your fingers into his soft dark hair, combing through it.    Eyes closing, his head leaned toward you with a quiet breathy, “Fuck.”    Grinning at the result of your actions, you did it again. And then again, once more. Progressively, you gave his forehead a kiss, earning a hum from him.    Walking around the chair, you promptly sat on his lap. You smiled as he wrapped his arms securely around you, pulling you close and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. With a small giggle, you placed multiple side-kisses to the best of your ability to his head. You felt his lips spread into a grin against your skin.    “You make me forget everything,” Murtagh sighed contently.    You knew that it was all of the bad events and such in his life that he was referring to, but you still spoke up. “Not the good parts, I hope.”    He gave a laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I could never forget those. Moments with you are always my favorite.”

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   With his smile returning, he glanced away briefly in his surprised delight. “And what kind of traditions did you have in-mind?”    “I have not thought that far ahead yet. Don’t rush me,” you breathed out a laugh.    “I would do no such thing,” he affirmed, holding you closer to him under the blanket.    “I suppose we are limited at the moment because of trade,” you thought aloud. “Unless we all help to expand the crops.”    A particularly loud pop from the a-flamed logs startled you out of focus. Murtagh pressed an assuring kiss to your forehead.    “Do you want to make a pie?”    “Not at the moment,” he hummed against your skin, feeling a small smirk from him.    “For our winter tradition.”    “Ah. Yes, that sounds delicious.”    “And our dragons can go on a hunt together, I’m sure they’ll love that.”    Murtagh nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we can cook an evening meal together. Not necessarily a feast…some of our favorites, if we can obtain the supplies.”    “How would we decorate, if we wanted to?”    There was a calm pause of silence as he contemplated. “I was going to say ribbons and such, but…we are limited on extra supplies at the moment.”    “It’s all right, we can always make additions as supplies become more accessible,” you encouraged, gently patting his chest. “It does not have to be anything grand, as long as we’re together, I will be happy and most grateful.”    You felt as Murtagh seemingly melted into the couch with a barely audible wistful sigh.    “So…we have decorating, hunting, cooking, and……What shall we do to complete our new tradition?” He asked, gazing softly at you.    You made one of your thoughtful faces that he adored, though you never did catch the way he looked at you in-turn.    “You could…kiss me good night?” You suggested slowly.    His smile made your chest go warm. “May I not kiss you too soon.”    “I will not limit you an amount of times that you can kiss me, Murtagh.”    “I promise not to be greedy.”    “Sometimes I wish you would,” you half said to yourself. Flopping the blanket over his head in mock protest, laughter between the pair of you ensued.    Murtagh pulled you down with him onto the couch, your body now atop his.    As you lifted up the blanket, you were met with his smiling face. It was quite honestly your favorite sight. To see him in such a relaxed state as compared to his usual day to day was in a way relieving.    Pulling the blanket over your head to join him under the blanket, you snuggled close in your silly bliss.

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Thank you for reading!

  Staying low to the ground, the shirt over your stomach sliding against the bent grass as you crawled ahead. At last, your moment had come, your prey lying just a few feet beyond the next layers of greenery. Tucking your legs snug up against your stomach, you tensed your muscles for your attack. Within a second, you pounced forward, roaring out your prey’s name as your hands landed firmly on either side of his head.   “(Y/N)?!” Murtagh jumped in-place, shrinking into himself as if he could merge into the earth beneath him. He looked up at you perturbed, being that you both appeared upside down in view of each other, all the while you were giggling wholeheartedly. “What was that for? I could’ve hurt you!”   “Oh, have some fun, will you?” you continued to laugh, letting strands of your hair dangle down to his face, “and besides…I already figured that as a possible outcome, except I was willing to take that risk.”   “Well, you should be more careful,” he furrowed his brows a little by your sudden recklessness, “and I do have fun…I was having fun until…you attacked me.”   “Murtagh, listen,” you smirked, “if I were to attack you, I would have done it properly and pinned you down without a way out.”   Though his serious face remained, his gray eyes began to sparkle, “You mean…like this?”   A glow of ruby red distracted you just long enough for his magic to pick you up and flip you over onto him.   “Oof…maybe I should be more aware of what I say out-loud,” you wondered, adjusting to fold your arms over his chest to rest your chin upon them.   “Yes,” he gave a bright smile, making him look all the more handsome, “I think that would be most wise of you.”   “You mock me, Murtagh?” you teased, looking offended.   “No, (Y/N),” his voice lower than a whisper, delicately draping his strong arms around your back, “that would be rude of me to do such a thing to a kindhearted, witty, and brilliant person such as yourself.”   You faintly shook your head, remembering how closed off he was with his feelings when you two had first met. Then again, he and Thorn were also more surprised than anything to see a dragon and Rider wandering about, specifically ones that wanted to be befriend them.   “You, sir, are ridiculous,” you smiled, smothering another round of giggles as you lent up to peck the tip of his nose with your lips.   “Heh, and you, my dear (Y/N),” he smiled kindly, his thumbs lightly rubbing your back, “missed your mark.”   Murtagh’s lips enveloped yours sweetly with a known passionate fire being kept at bay. You could not resist but to smile as he did this, you kissing back of course. After a minute, the two of you equally parted and always took a moment to gaze into one another’s eyes, witnessing a multitude of emotions and words spoken and others still unsaid.   “Care to stay with me for a while?” Murtagh asked, his arms cradling you a little tighter.   You smiled, giving him another kiss, “I’d love to.”   The both of you remained lying amongst the grass, listening to the other’s smooth breathing and the sounds of the dragons playing around in the sky. You nestled your head beside Murtagh’s neck, nudging your nose playfully against him every so often. Humming radiated from his chest as you combed your fingers through his hair, twirling a few strands when you just could not refrain from doing so.   Murtagh was unable to hide the smile that crossed his lips whenever he spent time with you now. He did not feel the constant sense of danger as he often did when Galbatorix reigned over Alagaësia. You gave him something that had been unreachable to him since birth: comfort and reassurance. He held you at the most highest regard, your importance slipping past his own brother some short time ago, not that he cared any less for Eragon.   After a collective of minutes, Murtagh huffed following a recent comment from Thorn, catching your immediate attention.   “What’s the matter?” you murmured, your brisk breath sending a few chills to prickle up on Murtagh’s skin.   “Thorn,” he shook his head, “he said that I’ve become soft as the underbelly of a cow.”   “Nice metaphor,” you giggled, “I’ll give him that. And besides…you are very sweet…like a fresh berry.” With that, you felt a nudge against your consciousness. The light and sense of it being ever more familiar.   “Thank you, (Y/N)-Murtagh’s-heart-thief,” he chuckled amusingly, causing for your laughter as well.   “That’s a statement if I’ve ever heard one,” Murtagh mumbled until you spontaneously nipped at his neck, making him jerk his head away from yours.   Sitting up, you smacked his firm chest. “Be nice to Thorn,” you scolded, leaning in close to face him with a smug look, “especially when you know he’s right.”   Murtagh reclined his head back with a small bark of laughter, “I know. And it’s not the first time that he’s phrased it like that.” He brought his head back over to view you better, a grand smile gracing his lips. “You know,” he paused, entranced by the ever loving look in your eyes, “even if a hundred fortunetellers had told me that I would find peace and happiness…I would have never believed them.”   “I know,” you replied solemnly, keeping in mind the past traumas that he had recounted to you. Forcing yourself to think beyond those thoughts, you rose a mischievous eyebrow up at him, “Ever wonder why I keep you on your toes?”   “Because you love to drive me mad?” he chuckled, hearing an echo of Thorn’s as well in the background of your mind; your own dragon perhaps laughing a little too much in knowledge of this.   You tilted your head to the side momentarily, “That too, but it’s also because I love you, silly,” you admitted, your fingers curling around the loose fabric of his tunic.   Murtagh’s eyes brimmed with tears against his will, and his breath caught like he had gotten the wind knocked out of him by a sparring dragon’s tail. It was not as if you had not said this to him before, like when you would hug him or give him a chaste kiss before running off to go for a training lesson; no, this time you meant it with such an earnest look in your eyes and no hint of rebuttal in your tone of voice. He was very swift to state his love for Thorn, but with you, he was hesitant. It was not that he did not care, quite the contrary, he adored you so much that he feared the loss of you from his past deeds. But, with every coming day, Murtagh was shown such affection from you that he squandered all aspects of his past negativity.   “(Y/N), if not for you, I might have built a castle far from here,” Murtagh shook his head in thought, his gray eyes never leaving your own, “it likely would have taken us an entire century before ever visiting this place; …a land of dragons and Riders once more. You believed in us when we still had remnants of our anger, but you were too stubborn to leave without us.” He paused again, his breath visibly a little shaky to you, “(Y/N)…for once, and now every single day, you make me feel like the happiest man who ever lived. I could only hope that I can return the favor in such a magnitude that you devote. For that and so much more, I love you, (Y/N).”   “Are you trying to make me cry?” you gawk at him, not giving him the chance to respond since you ultimately crushed his lips with yours, the unexpected reaction making him wide-eyed before coming to his senses.   It was a much more of a sentimental kiss that the two of you shared. Though with a couple of months behind you in a relationship, Murtagh was only a little less hesitant with you; such a courtly gentleman. He had one of his arms laced around your back as per usual, while with the other he tucked his hand up in your hair to cradle your head as his thumb massaged the base of your skull.   You were not quite sure how this would have ended on its own, not that you were paying any attention to the world around you. Your fingers danced around in his locks of hair and traced the contours of his face. However intimate it was, neither of you could have expected what you heard next.   “Murtagh!” Eragon called from nearby, just out of sight from your low position in the grass, his voice friendly and curious as ever.   The two of you froze, eyes as wide as a full moon, until you did the one thing that made Murtagh shake his head; you started to quake with laughter, your lips slipping away from his. He shushed you lightly, pecking your lips in an attempt to keep you quiet and remain unheard from his brother, but it only made you giggle all the more when you heard Eragon call out again.   Murtagh could only sigh, but smiled all the same   “Heheh, busted…” you giggled continuously.

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Originally posted on my Deviantart.

    “Murtagh, listen to me, —”     “(Y/N), where are you?” his voice held panic to it, now looking around for any sign of you in the fiery townscape.     “Murtagh, love, you’re in a dream, wake up,” you advised, “I’m going to you now.”     “What—?” With a little jolt, he woke up to the sound of his own heavy breathing and the beating of his heart echoing in his ears.     Murtagh sprung up in his bed, the sheets and his dark hair sticking to his sweaty skin. Balling up the sheets in his fists, he took shaky breaths to calm himself. His eyes darted around the room, every dark corner and cloaked window being scrutinized. When his heart rate did level down back to normal, he shut his eyes at the sheer thought of his horrendous nightmare. It was so dark, the only light source emitting from the coarse flames enveloping the surrounding buildings and corpses. Your voice had struck him, he felt as though you were trapped within the murderous realm of his nightmare as well; not that he understood that it was not real at the time. That scared him more than being alone in all of that mess; what if you were hurt?     Murtagh shook the ensuing thoughts from his mind and swung his legs off of the bed, his eyes tracking the darkness as he trudged over to the water-basin. He let the water fill up the sink before leaning in to scoop in with his hands to spread the cool water over his face. He did this a few times and over his neck without even realizing that you had let yourself into his new home, stopping just as you saw him.     Patting his face dry with a small washcloth, only then did Murtagh pause, hearing the tap of your shoes across the wooden floor. He looked over, removing the towel from his face, happily surprised that you had arrived.     “Are you all right?” you asked softly, taking a step forward, looking a little peculiar wearing shoes and a cloak with your pajamas.     “Much better, thank you,” he gave a small smile, setting the washcloth down on the rim of the basin, still not turning his body to face you. Perhaps he was apprehensive because he was only wearing his trousers, not that you minded.     You furrowed your eyebrows overlooking his posture, “You seem distant,” you observed, stepping closer to him.     “You saw that nightmare, (Y/N),” he responded, looking down in distress before making his way over to the side of his bed to retrieve his shirt, “you felt the pain.” He froze, feeling your hand make contact with his bare shoulder, the coolness of your fingertips in contrast to his warm skin. His gray-blue eyes found yours in the near darkness, whilst strips of blue moonlight shot across the bed.     “You’re still afraid,” you commented, more as an observance than a stately question for him. You had not known him for feeling any sort of fear, with the exception of his early years as he had once told you about prior to his courting with you.     Murtagh sighed, his shoulder sinking into your familiar touch, “It creeps up on me like a shadow. As if my anger toward the world that tormented me all my life swarmed over it when I became a Rider. A constant fear is not something that I want anymore, I thought that it was gone, but apparently not.”     “I don’t think that’s quite what it is Murtagh,” you shook your head in disagreement. Without shying away from his eyes, you reached over to take up his own shirt out from his hands to put it aside.     “What do you mean?” his voice rising above a whisper, eyes darting over to his shoulder as you maneuvered his body to face you; his firm chest rising and falling from his concentrated breathing.     “I don’t think it is that same fear anymore,” you interpreted with a small smile that threw him off entirely, “perhaps it was something that your nightmare conjured up for you to feel, an emotion that you’ve felt before, and so your mind found it and used it.”     Murtagh pondered on this for a moment, his gaze off to the side while your eyes were still fixed on his. “I…felt lost…there was destruction everywhere. I couldn’t feel Thorn with me, and when I heard your voice,” he paused, his jaw noticeably clenching and his now tear brimmed eyes drifting back up to meet with yours, “I thought you were in danger, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you hurt and—”     “Shhh-sh-shh,” you comforted him, gently placing your hands on either side of his face, pulling him down toward you, “hey, I’m all right, you’re all right, nothing is wrong. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”     Murtagh wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you snug against him, his body heat coursing over you. “I can’t ever lose you, (Y/N),” he murmured into your ear, as he nuzzled his face into your neck.     “And you won’t,” you assured, rubbing his back soothingly, “As if someone would be stupid enough to cross a Dragon and their Rider.” You felt right whenever you were secure in his arms, and swore that you would likewise never let harm befall this loving man. “Why don’t we both get some sleep, huh?” you suggested, giving him one last squeeze of a hug before he too reluctantly released you, if only for a moment.     “Sounds fair,” he gave a soft smile, reaching to pull back the blankets of the bed for you.     You kicked off your shoes and slipped off your cloak, tossing the garment to the foot of the bed, happily hopping into Murtagh’s plush bed. He laughed and crawled in right after you, making sure to pull up the sheets as you snuggled in beside him.     “Comfortable?” Murtagh asked, slinking his arms around you; there was no way in Alagäesia or beyond that he was going to let you go this night.     “I am now,” you smiled, your arms curled up between each other’s chest, the clear soft thumps of his heartbeat setting an entrancing tone to drift you off to a tranquil sleep.     “Good,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head before resting his own against the pillow. To think that he had found someone who did not fear him at their first meeting, understood his actions, and loved him into the man that he was now. He could not help but to be thankful; thankful that somehow with all that he had done during his enslavement to Galbatorix, fate decided to give him a precious gift as opposed to another cruel joke.

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Originally posted on my Deviantart.