written for @throneofglassmicrofics November prompts: "cozy" & "curl"
just some cozy fluffy winter fluff ;))
word count: 752
warnings: none ;)
enjoy!!
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Rowan's soft, rumbling chuckle drifted through Aelin's hazy slumber, and she cracked her eyes open to find him sitting on the edge of the couch, brushing her hair gently away from her face. "Hey, Fireheart. Good nap?"
"The best," she murmured, still groggy. She'd flopped onto the couch only a few minutes after she'd come home from work, another overly long day of dealing with her sleazy boss. Once her shoes were off and she was wrapped in her old sweats and one of Rowan's college hockey sweatshirts, she'd tumbled right into that inviting heap of blankets draped over the couch and closed her eyes.
"How long has it been?" she wondered, slowly pushing herself to a seated position.
He glanced at his watch. "Well, I just got home, so probably a couple hours. You hungry?"
"Always." Right on cue, her stomach rumbled. She laughed. "Yeah, I know, it's been a while since lunch."
"Good thing the takeout should be here in a few minutes," Rowan said, a smile pulling at his lips.
She looped her arms around his neck and plopped a theatrical kiss on his cheek. "Best husband in the world."
"I try my best, love," he teased, sliding his warm hand around to the back of her head and kissing her properly. She sighed into the kiss, drinking in the taste of his lips.
When she pulled away, smiling, her cheeks were flushed a soft pink. "I could get used to this," she joked, as if six months of marriage hadn't already acclimated her to the giddiness of coming home to her husband.
"Might have to change things up, then." He winked at her. "Can't have my wife thinking we have a fixed routine." His thumb rubbed the back of her palm, curving around the emerald on her left hand. "How was work?"
She groaned, tucking herself into his side and hiding her face in his shoulder. "About as good as usual." Her boss, Arobynn, was a sleazy asshole who ogled every woman in the office as much as possible and was constantly making lewd gestures at her.
"I'm gonna punch his face in," Rowan grumbled, irritation scrunching his brows. "Does he seriously not understand that you're my wife?"
"He probably just doesn't care." Aelin ran her thumb over the groove in Rowan's forehead, smoothing out the lines. "And Ro, my love, you can't just show up my office."
"I know." Sometime in the last handful of minutes, he'd managed to untangle the blankets from around Aelin and tuck them neatly over both of them. "But you're okay, yeah?"
"I am." She kissed the corner of his lips. "I can fend for myself, and I have Dorian and Fenrys if I need male backup."
"Okay." Rowan looked like he wanted to say something else, but he was interrupted by the chiming of the doorbell. "Food's here." He kissed Aelin's forehead. "I'll go get it."
Aelin settled herself back into her blanket cocoon, soaking in the warmth from the heap of blankets and her husband's sweatshirt. A chilly breeze curled in from the open front door, and she shivered, tucking the blankets tighter around herself. Her eyes drifted shut again, almost involuntarily, and she blinked awake to find the living room window cracked just a few inches.
It hadn't been open before.
Groggy, Aelin scrubbed her hands across her eyes, unwrapped herself from the pile of blankets, and stood up slowly, her body not quite willing to leave the cozy warmth of the couch. But she had to close the window, so she made herself walk across the floor and tug it shut. As she did so, a whiff of Rowan's cologne drifted up from the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and she closed her eyes, pulling the crisp pine scent deep into her lungs.
When she opened her eyes again, a film of tears blurred her vision as the recognition that she'd once again been dreaming hit her like a truck.
Only hours ago, she'd come home from work and wrapped herself in her husband's sweatshirt, clinging to one of the last pieces she had left of him. Only hours ago, she'd tucked her face into the thick, pine-scented fabric and breathed Rowan's presence into her blood, and she'd fallen asleep to the most beautiful memories of him.
But as always, she awoke to the reality--her, alone in the house they had hoped to fill with laughter, clinging to Rowan's clothes because she could no longer cling to his body.
Welcome to the August Masterlist for ToGMicrofics!
You can write for everyday or just one.
Combine prompts or not, interpret as you want.
Write the story in less than 1k words.
Write for whichever ship you want, or general characters/relationships.
Be sure to @ us and we'll reblog your work here for all to see!
Be sure to add triggers if/as needed :)
Any other questions? Send an ask or dm!
FAQ // Intro Post
Reminder, there will be no prompt list for September. Instead, check out the prompts for Rowaelin Month! (not associated with this blog)
Text list of prompts beneath the cut:
Notebook
Spiral
Closure
Lake
Bridge
Forest
Acceptance
Dock
Ferris Wheel
Toolbox
Bingo
Splurge
Hand-In-Hand
Fort
Whistle
Arcade
Quake
Season
Backpack
Splash
Lazy
Practice
Wrestle
Vanish
Gifted
Absorb
Indigo
Track
Museum
Knowledge
Golden
oh no i got really into Mumford & Sons during finals and accidentally wrote some slight angst for @throneofglassmicrofics 😂🫡
basic premise: canon AU where fae/mythical creatures don't exist but magic and arobynn do ;)
Prompt: "Deep End" // song: "Thistle & Weeds"
word count: 574
warnings: slight angst
enjoy!!
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The fire wouldn't come.
Aelin knew it could, and she knew that it had, and it wasn't. It wasn't coming. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many breathing or grounding exercises or how many mental doors she unlocked, her fire would not come.
Perhaps it sensed the danger lurking in the red-haired man across the training yard and refused to bend to the cold cunning in his eyes.
Aelin had been sixteen years old when Arobynn Hamel became the weapons master, and he'd been trying to train her in magic ever since, even though he had no magic and knew nothing about the finicky, delicate art of magical training. He'd seemed content to put the Crown Princess of Terrasen through grueling physical training instead for the last four years.
Until he got too greedy.
Until the whispers started.
Until the Crown Princess unexpectedly became Queen and the whispers broke into shouts.
"It's simply...not budging," Aelin called across the training yard, weariness weighing down her voice.
Arobynn's lip curled in badly veiled disgust. "Disappointing, Aelin. Simply disappointing." Ordinarily, the insult would be enough to push her into a tidal wave of wildfire, but all it did was drop heavily upon her weighted shoulders. "Disappointing." He left, boots clicking against the stone steps.
Aelin let her sword tumble to the ground with a dull clang and made it a few jerky strides before she crumpled to the ground, her back flush against the sun-warmed stone of the far wall. Dark, shadowy clouds obscured the sunlight, and the summer air thickened to bursting, becoming heavy with the coppery scent of a storm.
She didn't have the strength to move.
Fat, lazy raindrops dripped slowly from the sky, plopping against the worn gray stones and sand of the training yard and the sweat-soaked material of Aelin's tunic and pants. She cupped her hands, catching the drops, overpowering grief crashing into her as she remembered her mother teaching her to catch the rain.
You may not have all of the water gift, my Fireheart, but anyone can hold the rain.
The queen tipped her head up to the sky as the rain thickened, its rapid patter splashing onto her face, mingled with the tears that slid down her face like the summer shower. I miss you, Mum. So much.
Eyes closed, the storm soaking through her clothes, Aelin felt the darkness close in on her, battering the wavering shreds of her faith. First the crown, now the wildfire--everything was being ripped from her fragile grasp. Even though it was late summer, even though the rain could barely touch the sand and stones before it soaked into nothing, she felt like the water was creeping up her chest, inexorably pulling her into its dark depths.
She was so...alone.
Unbidden, unprompted, heat rose up through Aelin's cupped hands, tiny sparks dancing around her fingertips. She cracked open her heavy eyes, released half a shuddering breath, and watched as the sparks kindled into tongues of flame, tiny dancing flickers of light and color amid the pouring rain. We are always with you, Fireheart, whispered a pair of voices in the depths of her heart.
The wildfire brightened, dancing higher, stronger, mirroring the hope that the queen grasped ahold of as she tugged herself to her feet, flames wreathing her hands and her brow, and picked up her sword.
