Thank you so much @mugchild!! 🥰
Did I take this as an excuse to write six ficlets? Yes, yes I did.
Arthur is not a morning person. Merlin had learned that pretty quickly.
It takes multiple attempts to get him out of bed, and then he’s always in a bad mood.
One morning, Merlin kisses him awake on impulse, and for the first time, Arthur is smiling as his eyes open.
Across the battlefield, their eyes locked. Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot was even more impressive than his reputation, blood splattered armour glinting in the dying sun and sword still raised. Grim determination was clear on his face.
It didn’t matter, Merlin knew. He would be no match for his magic.
Merlin rolled over, shuffling closer to Arthur. Arthur shifted in his sleep, tucking his head down into Merlin’s neck. Merlin threaded his fingers into Arthur’s hair, scratching his scalp absently.
“Feels nice,” Arthur mumbled, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s collar bone.
Merlin smiled. It was early yet; they had time.
“I tol-”
“If you value your life, do not finish that sentence.”
“…it was very noble of you to cover me with your cloak.”
“We’ll never here the end of this.”
“Who’s we? It was your idea to have sex on the roof, I’m an innocent party.”
“Merlin, shut up.”
Morgana is onto them.
Arthur’s not subtle – just last evening Merlin had been refilling Arthur’s wine and Arthur had rested a hand on his back the whole time, thumb stroking his shirt idly and pinky just tucked into his waistband.
Morgana’s onto them, but Merlin can’t bring himself to care.
“You can all thank me later.” Gwaine smirks, walking into the room with his arms held up in victory.
“For what?” Elyan asks warily.
“I got Merlin drunk.”
The others stare at him in confusion.
“Arthur is escorting him to bed as we speak.”
“Poetry.” Leon grins, and Gwaine winks.
Send me a ♕❀ for a 50 word merthur ficlet.
