for @merthurmicrofic | prompt rat | 100 words | ao3
“Do you remember the time I tried to feed you rat stew?” Merlin asked, rolling over in bed to gaze into Arthur’s eyes.
“I remember forcing you to eat it,” Arthur said. “I’m never letting you cook for me again after that, you know.”
“You won’t let me redeem myself and make you a proper meal? I know how to make a better stew now. You wouldn’t even know I didn’t put rat in it this time.”
Arthur leaned over to close the gap between them with a kiss, the warmth of his chest pressing against Merlin. “Not a chance.”
A/N this turned out to be longer than originally planned but eh that's what happens when i write for Thranduil 💀oh well i hope you guys like it, i know i had fun writing it cause i need the fluff lol, anyways enjoy!
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The heat of the large open ovens makes Y/N’s apron and clothes cling to her skin, silently thanking the Valar for remembering to keep her hair in a tight bun at the top of her head instead of allowing it to cling to her skin like her clothes. With a quiet huff, Y/N dumps the carefully measured cups of flour into a large metal bowl before whipping away the sweat that had gathered on her brow.
Her ears twitch at the sound of elves making a commotion but Y/N decides to do her best to ignore them until the head chef gently grabs her shoulder as she whisks together dry ingredients.
“Look sharp Y/N,“ her boss, the head baker, muttered. "Our King has decided to check in on our progress for the feast and I heard his dwarven guests kept him from lunch."
"Oh no," Y/N groans as she turns around to face the head baker, hugging the cold metal bowl to her chest as she continues to whisk. "You know to hide the pie filling right?"
"Do not worry my Lady, I have already ordered that," the head chef nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "We have also hidden the stuffing as well."
"Good, good," Y/N hums, turning swiftly on her heel to start dumping the dry ingredients into the larger bowl with the wet ingredients. "Then I assume all that is left to hide is my work?"
"That is correct, my Lady."
"Then do not concern yourself with it," Y/N grunts as the mixture in the bowl becomes thicker with each stir. "I will make sure it is well guarded."
"If you say so my Lady," the head chef nods before swiftly walking away to leave Y/N with her dough.
"Oh Meleth," Y/N mutters to herself as she continues to stir the dough, making sure all the flour has been thoroughly mixed in. "Why must you be so childish about these things?" A frown tugs at Y/N's lips but she shakes it off, setting the large metal bowl filled with plain cookie dough, Y/N wipes her flour-covered hands on her apron before turning away in search of something to put in the dough.
From what little knowledge of dwarves that Y/N has, chocolate seems to be a hit between both elves and dwarves. Y/N just hopes they like chunks of chocolate. The kitchens were crowded more so than usual, which is to be expected for the kingdom's guests, but it made it difficult for Y/N to navigate to the very back where the oven's overwhelming heat doesn't touch.
A shiver runs through Y/N as she reaches large wooden doors built to keep the hot air out. The doors open with a loud groan as Y/N quietly slips inside to find a set of stairs waiting for her. Immediately her hands rush to cling to the freezing railing as she makes her descent to the cold room where they keep any and all perishable items.
The quiet sound of rushing water tells her that she's almost at the bottom. The cold nips at Y/N as she finally reaches the bottom, her eyes scan through the shelves of meat and jugs of milk to find what she came down here for. A smile grows on her face when Y/N spots the large box near the back of the cold room. Carefully she makes her way to it and kneels in front of the chest.
The creak of its hinges tells her that it probably hasn't been open for a few months, but she still digs through the mountain of paper-wrapped packages to find one labeled with the kind of chocolate she needs. Once found, Y/N climbs to her feet and closes the box behind her, rushing towards the stairs as she knows she's running on limited time.
Closing the large doors behind her, Y/N happily welcomes the familiar heat of the kitchen's ovens. Pushing past the rushing elves, Y/N is happy to find her counter space barren of the Elvenking, and she quickly starts to unwrap the bars of chocolate.
Chewing her lip in concentration, Y/N begins to break the thin bars into small bite-sized chunks before she dumps the first handful into the untouched cookie dough. Quickly folding in the chocolate chunks, a tired sigh escapes Y/N as large hands slide across her waist to pull her against a tall lithe form.
"Hello, Meleth nin," Y/N hums as she continues to fold the chunks in. "Thranduil."
"What are you making?" Thranduil asks, gently resting his chin in the crook of Y/N's neck.
"It matters not, you're not getting a taste."
"Who are you to deny your king?" He hums before pressing a soft kiss to her neck. Another sigh leaves Y/N as she slowly melts against Thranduil.
"I know what you are doing," she says as Thranduil continues to pepper her neck with small warm kisses, nearly dropping the dough-covered wooden spoon when Thranduil finds a sweet spot.
"Can I not shower my love with affections?" Thranduil murmurs before moving her tunic to place a long kiss on Y/N's shoulder, slowly her eyes fall shut as Thranduil's grip grows slightly tighter.
"I…umm, HEY WAIT," Y/N's eyes flicker open as she feels one of Thranduil's hands snake away, quickly glancing down she finds his hand reaching out to grab the bowl. Immediately Y/N smacks his hand, which earns her an undignified yelp from the king.
"You dare strike your king," Thranduil murmurs as he immediately backs away, Y/N turns on her heel and rolls her eyes. "I should have you thrown in the dungeons."
"You still would not get a taste of the dough Thranduil," Y/N says as she crosses her arms against her chest, glaring at Thranduil as he rubs his hand. "You know nobody can eat this until it's cooked."
"How boring," Thranduil hums as he slowly closes the distance between them. Y/N's hands fly up to press against his chest in an attempt to hold him back, his long untied hair tickles the back of her hands, but Thranduil instead gently grabs her wrists and presses a small kiss to her palm.
"T-this will not w-work on me Me-meleth," Y/N stammers as he presses another kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I ju-just wish not to see you sick, e-especially when we h-have such important g-guests over."
"It would be such a shame if the king were to fall ill and those important guests would have to be sent home," Thranduil grins as he drops her hands, his hands wrapping around Y/N's waist again only to press her against the countertop. "Besides, you should know that I have never once gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough, I highly doubt I will now."
"B-but."
"Hush Meleth nin," Thranduil hums before pressing a soft kiss to Y/N's lips. "It's just a small taste." He adds before kissing her again, this time Y/N's hands move to grip his soft tunic.
"Fine," she says breathlessly, not entirely sure if the heat on her face is from the ovens or Thranduil. "But only if you promise it's little."
"You have my word, Y/N," he grins before letting her step aside. "And as your gracious king, I will allow you to have a small taste as well."
Y/N rolls her eyes before a small smile of her own spreads across her face. "You forget who made it," she says, watching Thranduil use one of the yet-to-be-added chocolate chunks as a spoon to scoop a small amount of the dough out of the bowl. "I can have as much as I want."
for @merthurmicrofic | prompt storm | 100 words | ao3
Arthur had been the last person to head inside at the end of the training session. After the knights left, though, a massive downpour began.
Soaking wet, Arthur entered his chambers without a care for the trail of water his steps left. Ever the loyal servant, Merlin was already waiting for him with towels and a lit fire to warm him up.
As Arthur sat in front of the fire with a towel around his shoulders, Merlin settled down next to him. He rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder, unbothered by the water from Arthur’s hair dripping onto his face.
for @merthurmicrofic | prompt numb | 100 words | ao3
Dear Arthur,
I know finding out I have magic has been hard. It’s been a day, and I can tell you’re struggling to come to terms with it. I’m numb to your ridicules. I’m numb to your disbelief, that you can’t imagine me capable enough to be a sorcerer.
I know that beneath all that, the act you put on for the world, you care deeply for me and wouldn’t have me killed for who I am. You’re a good man, Arthur. I trust that you will come around in time.
