The Centaur Ages M.H.A x Reader au

Spring Fling

Your family had been healers and herbalists in the village of Hart's Meadow for time out of mind, the knowledge passed down from mother to daughter across the generations. You spent a lot of your time tending your mini greenhouse garden, and when you weren't pruning and planting there, you were alone in the woods gathering ingredients for herbal medicine and ointments your mother sold.

Your village was close to the border, and the orcish clans in the area raided constantly, so there was never a shortage of work for a healer. You would treat anyone or thing who needed your help, and in return, the orcish hordes largely left the centaurs out of their business on the whole.

However, the presence of rampaging, crimson bathed orcs meant that the younger centaurs of your village spent a lot of time training. Right from colt and filly, many learned to wield bows and axes. As for the blacksmith he would spend as much time making plate armour and arming centaurs.

You had never held a weapon larger than the apothecary's knife you used for gathering herbs. You were shy and quiet and you had a horrible tendency to blush crimson the moment anyone looked to you, let alone spoke to you.

One centaur in particular that made you clam up completely was Keigo.

His coat was a beautiful golden dun, his fetlocks splaying out white and fluffy from his dark knees, and his upper body had only become more and more handsome as he'd grown up. As well as the more time he spent training with his sword. He was gruff and largely silent, but he also had a good heart.

One time he had been brought to your mother with a great bleeding gash in his foreleg from an incident with another centaur in the training arena, and you had barely been able to be in the same room to help out. He hadn't flinched as she'd stitched him up, and when she was done, he'd nodded his gruff but sincere thanks to her, and returned to training the next day.

His legs were so powerful that the ground shook as he thundered past at full gallop, and you'd never seen a stallion so handsome. Not that he knew that was how you felt about him of course.

As you got older, you frequently found excuses to be out in the meadow next to the training grounds when Keigo was out there with his mentor Endeavor. His mentor, a huge red roan stallion with black fetlock socks, criss-crossed with scars from skirmishes with rogue orcs and other creatures, and the two of them would train for hours on end in the field below the village.

One day you bit back your nerves and took a large pitcher of fresh lemonade out to the field with a couple of beakers, and, when they finally took a break, you pushed your way through the tall grass over to them.

The scent of pollen and wild flowers billowed around you, and bees buzzed in the warm spring air. It was beautiful, and the famous blue butterflies of the region fluttered in clouds as your fluffy white fetlocks disturbed them.

"Endeavor? Keigo?" you piped up nervously.

The two centaurs looked up, sweat rolling down their bare chests, their flanks twitching after the strain of their session. Endeavor shouldered his huge axe and stomped his hoof as you approached.

"I... I saw you out here in all this spring heat..." you said, proffering the pitcher and cups. "I thought you might be thirsty."

"Did you now?" Endeavor said in his deep, gravelly voice, though not unkindly. "Well, what do you say to that, Keigo?" he asked as Keigo scuffed his hooves through the dust and sheathed his sword.

"Thank you," he mumbled, taking the cup from you and downing it in three huge gulps.

You took it back from him, trying not to stare as his throat worked and his bicep bulged as he moved his arm, you smiled and then took Endeavors' cup from him as well.