welcome to the masterlist, friends! we’ll be keeping track of all the content made this month here. days will be separated so it’s easier to find what you’re looking for if you’re on the hunt. happy rowaelin month! 💚
Rowaelin Month 2023
Day One: Song Fic
Day Two: Accidents Happen
Day Three: Rowaelin as teens
Day Four: “Friends don’t do this”
Day Five: A Bad Date
Day 6: Forced Proximity
Day 7: Vacation/Outdoor Activity
Day 8: Single Parent AU
Day 9: Renaissance Fair
Day 10: Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry
Day 11: Getting arrested/Trip to the police station
welcome to the masterlist, friends! we’ll be keeping track of all the content made this month here. days will be separated so it’s easier to find what you’re looking for if you’re on the hunt. happy rowaelin month! 💚
Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants
A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.
Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol
Masterlist
6494 words
Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic
*******
Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck.
“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.
He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.
She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.
She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.
Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.
It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.
“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.
“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.
Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.
“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”
Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”
A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.
“Which portraits?”
“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”
“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”
Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.
Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.
“Leo?”
“No,” she shook her head.
“Johannes?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Vincent?”
“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.
He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”
“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.
He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”
“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”
“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.
“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.
“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.
She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”
“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”
“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”
Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”
She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”
The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –
Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.
Back to their beginning.
The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.
Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.
Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.
The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.
For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.
It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.
They learned how to adapt.
The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.
Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.
They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.
They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.
As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.
As Astrid and Warin.
As Alana and Royce.
There were some names they liked better than others.
They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.
And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.
"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."
The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.
She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.
Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.
For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here.
He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.
He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.
But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.
She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.
He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.
Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.
“Aelin.”
In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.
She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.
Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.
And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.
Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.
As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.
She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.
“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”
Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.
A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.
And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.
He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”
Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.
As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”
At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.
*****
Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.
She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.
The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.
Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.
To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.
They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.
To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.
They didn’t know the half of it.
*****
“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”
She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”
He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”
“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.
He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”
Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.
“I’m an old soul.”
He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”
Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.
Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”
“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.
Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.
“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.
A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”
“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”
“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.
“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”
Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.
So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.
The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.
“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.
Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”
Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”
Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.
“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.
“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”
Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.
“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”
Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”
Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”
Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”
Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.
“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.
The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.
“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”
Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”
“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.”
And it was.
And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.
And then they left. Together.
“Where do you want it, Ace?”
Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.
Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –
“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.
“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.
“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.
Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.
“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”
The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.
“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.
“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”
The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.
*****
Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.
He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.
Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.
“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”
When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”
Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering.
“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”
Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”
“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.
“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.
“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”
“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”
Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”
Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.
“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.
“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”
“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”
None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.
“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”
Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.
“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”
“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”
“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.
Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”
Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”
Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.
“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.
And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.
When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.
*****
The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.
The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.
Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.
The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.
Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.
As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.
It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.
“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.
“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”
“I think you give him too much credit.”
“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”
Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”
Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”
“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves.
“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Good.”
“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”
They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.
“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.
“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.
“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”
They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”
“The European one,” she elaborated.
He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”
“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”
“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.
“Te amo.”
“Ti amo.”
“Je t’aime.”
“I love you.”
**************
Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.
“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.
“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.
Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”
A/N: Sorry to disappoint but there’s no content warning for this one. Just some mild nudity and dumbass-ery from our favourite idiots.
~ Set Up Masterlist ~
~~~~~
Knocking woke Aelin up from her surprisingly heavy sleep. When she indulged in alcoholic beverages she usually had a fitful sleep with all that flowing through her system. She probably had the man next to her to thank for how out of it she had been. Rowan was still asleep, handsome features softened, still gloriously naked after their fun from the night before. His strong arm was a pleasant weight over the middle of her waist. It was hard not to get lost in moments like this, not to imagine what it might be like to wake up like this everyday. They were foolish fancies, Aelin would be gone in a matter of hours and their time together would once again come to an end. But it wouldn’t hurt to linger for just a few more moments. Aelin felt her own smile as she sunk further into Rowan’s embrace before a thudding disturbed her contentment.
After spending almost three years away from Orynth when he finally returned Rowan never expected his new neighbour to be someone he knew, let alone his ex-girlfriend. More unexpected is the secret she’s managed to keep from him all this time.
Aelin fights to keep the world she’s built from what Rowan left behind and protect what’s most precious to her. But with him living is such close proximity, certain issues are unavoidable.
Chapter One /// Chapter Two /// Chapter Three /// Chapter Four /// Chapter Five /// Chapter Six /// Chapter Seven /// Chapter Eight /// Chapter Nine /// Chapter Ten /// Chapter Eleven /// Chapter Twelve /// Chapter Thirteen /// Chapter Fourteen /// Chapter Fifteen /// Chapter Sixteen /// Chapter Seventeen /// Chapter Eighteen /// Chapter Nineteen /// Chapter Twenty /// Chapter Twenty One /// Chapter Twenty Two ///
Before: Aelin’s POV
Fenrys POV: Chapter Three
Goodnight: Aelin POV
~ Ao3 ~
~ Fic Playlist ~
~ Moodboard ~ ~ Elsie Moodbard ~
~ Who is Endgame Spoiler ~ (Major Plot Spoiler So Caution Advised)
a Hallmark inspired Percabeth Christmas AU
co-authored by @captain-jackson & @timelesslords
Annabeth Chase is moments away from a life-changing promotion when the news of her estranged father's unexpected death derails her plans. Suddenly, she's forced to travel to the tiny, Christmas-obsessed town of Rome, Pennsylvania to handle his affairs. She settles in at a local inn with hopes of getting through the trip quickly and getting back to her life in the city as soon as possible. But Rome is full of surprises― and Annabeth might just get a little more out of her trip than she bargained for.
READ ON AO3
* 12 Days of Christmas: Roman Holiday is a 12 part series. Beginning Wednesday, December 8th, one chapter will be posted daily at 6:00 pm EST through December 19th.
* Get in the spirit with the Roman Holiday playlist on Spotify!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He pours the milk into two mugs and stirs in the powdered hot chocolate mix. Both mugs are topped off almost to the point of overflowing with marshmallows, and then he takes the few steps through his kitchen to stand in front of her with the counter between them.
“I owe you an apology…and an explanation.” She says when he finally sets a steaming mug in front of her.
He leans down onto his elbows and sandwiches her cold hands with both of his, rubbing warmth into them. “Pretty sure you already apologized.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you should be more angry with me.”
Percy lets out a short puff of a laugh. “Are you about to argue with me about my own feelings?”
Annabeth bites back the smile threatening to spread across her face. “I’m right, though. You should be.”
He just shrugs, thinking over her words for a minute. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not…not angry.”
summary: your doctor accidentally inseminates you with the sperm of the city's biggest mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. (Jane the Virgin AU)
pairing: mob!bucky barnes x f!reader
w/c: 1.6k
chapter warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, passing out, pregnancy, kinda angsty
DO NOT PLAGIARIZE OR REPOST!!!
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
You opened your eyes slowly, with very little recollection of past events. You suddenly felt someone squeeze your hand tightly and heard an excited cry. "y/n, you're awake!"
You turned to your side to see your best friend Wanda gripping your hand tightly, tears pricking her eyes. She was always so dramatic but you loved the girl to death. "What happened?" you ask, sitting up in the hospital bed.
"You passed out in the bus and then I started screaming at the driver to turn around and take the bus to the hospital. I would've called 911 but screaming my head off was way faster. I must've traumatized the poor guy," she says breathlessly.
"Oh, Wan," you huff, squeezing her hand tighter. "You're such a drama queen,"
"Only because I love you,"
Just then a young intern pushed the curtain aside and began inspecting your chart. "Ms. l/n, my name's Dr Daniels, could you tell me how far along you are? Your chart doesn't mention it."
You and Wanda looked at each other, confusion and intrigue painting both of your faces. "Far along with what?" you ask genuinely
Dr Daniels gives you a dumbfounded look before taking a look at your chart again. "Your pregnancy, Ms l/n," he replies rather matter-of-factly.
You let out a booming laugh, probably loud enough for the entire hospital to hear. You look at Wanda and giggle while she looks at you, still dazed. "Pregnancy?" you chuckle. "I-I've never...uh.." you trail off.
Wanda holds your hand again as you catch your breath. "Doc, what she means to say, is that she's never had sex before. Never done the deed, never engaged in coitus...ya get my drift?"
The poor guy looked at you, his face a mixture of emotions, embarrassment and confusion being the prominent ones. He hands you your chart so that you could see it for yourself.
"There has to be a mistake....this isn't possible..."
"Wait!" Wanda suddenly gasps. "I read about that toilet seat thing in a magazine, maybe it's that," she says trying to lighten the mood.
"Wanda!" you scream at her. "I'm gonna need you to do another test...there has to be a mistake,"
15 minutes later
"Pink. That means you're pregnant, Ms l/n,"
You slumped back in the bed and closed your eyes and tried to breathe, your entire life flashing before your eyes.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Bucky's POV
"Mr and Mrs Barnes," Dr Kessner says nonchalantly. "What I'm about to tell you might make you very upset and for that, I genuinely apologize,"
"What is it," Dot said impatiently squeezing Bucky's hand as they sat in anticipation.
"So, Mrs Barnes, you came in today for an artificial insemination," Dr Kessner continued. Bucky looked at Dot, completely unaware of this. "And, I, uh inseminated another patient with Mr Barnes' sample instead of you...mistakenly..." she trails off motioning at Bucky.
"You did WHAT?!" Dot screams. "You incompetent little piece of sh-"
"Dot!" Bucky cuts her off before she almost rips the doctor's head off. "Uh doc, could we please have a minute?"
"Yes, yes, of course, anything you need," she says with a nervous smile as she leaves the room.
Bucky turns to Dot and exhaustedly rubbing his temples. "Dot...why?"
"James, our marriage is in shambles. We barely talk to each other anymore and I thought a kid could fix it!"
"So you came in for an insemination without consulting me?!"
"I didn't think I'd have to, James!" she says, appalled.
"Look, Dot, this is why our marriage isn't working...we don't communicate and now this...." he trails off.
"What are you saying?"
"I think you know exactly what I'm saying. I think we've both known for a long time coming,"
Dot gets up to leave and before Bucky can stop her, she's slamming the door and walking down the hallway in her designer Chanel dress with a smirk on her face because now, she can finally continue to sleep with her business partner without having to hide it from Bucky.
"Mr Barnes?" Dr Kessner asks coming back into her office and taking a seat right in front of him. "Would you like to know her name? The mother's?"
"Sure," he says, staring out the window. Dr Kessner hands him your file and he takes a quick look, not before whispering your name to himself.
y/n l/n
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"You did what?!" you and Wanda yelled at the same time.
"I accidentally inseminated you with a man's sample," Dr Kessner says apologetically.
You lean back against the chair and close your eyes once again and a solitary tear streams down your right cheek.
"I could give you a prescription for some pills you could take and you are under absolutely no obligation to meet the father,"
"The father," you croak out. "The father, what's his name?"
Dr Kessner hands you his file and you recognise his name immediately. "James Buchanan Barnes?! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you begin to hyperventilate as Wanda rubs soothing circles over your back. "You inseminated me with the sperm of the city's biggest mob boss?!"
"I'm so sorry, Ms l/n,"
"I want to meet him," you say suddenly making the two women look at you in amazement. "I said I'd like to meet him, I'd like for you to arrange that, doc,"
"Of course, anything you need."
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The hospital contacted Bucky and he had his men arrange to pick you up from your apartment. Wanda asked if you needed her to come along but you reassured her that you'd be fine.
You were in awe of the sleek black SUV that was sent to pick you up but you also kind of expected it. Two men stepped out, one blonde and the other a brunette. The blonde man was older and the brunette seemed like he was new to the job, given his slightly clumsy demeanour.
The blonde man stepped towards you and held out his hand for you to shake. "Miss l/n, I'm Steve and this here is Peter."
"Hi Steve, hi Peter, nice to meet you," you say as you climb into the car. The ride to Bucky's house (or should you say mansion) was rather uneventful. Neither of the men spoke but the silence was comfortable. Yet, you fidgeted with your hands the whole way there.
You were dumbstruck when you reached. You were totally in awe of the palace of a house. Marble pillars and staircases, multiple windows, manicured shrubbery, it was the whole shebang. Peter opened the door and you stepped out and made your way up the staircase where a beautiful red-haired woman was waiting for you.
"I'm Natasha, one of Mr Barnes' personal bodyguards. It's nice to meet you ms l/n, he's waiting inside,"
"y/n," you say nervously.
"What's that?"
"y/n, please call me y/n,"
"Alright y/n, follow me," Natasha said as you followed her in, Steve and Peter trailing you.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The interior was even prettier than the outside. More marble floors, expensive couches and chandeliers decorated the lovely home. Yet, it seemed rather empty to you. You followed Natasha to the patio where you saw the mob boss for the first time. You were a little scared but you took a deep breath and calmed yourself. He's handsome, you thought to yourself.
"ms l/n," he said standing up to face you. "nice to meet you," he says, holding his hand out for you to shake.
"Please, sir, call me, y/n," you say taking a seat in front of him.
"Alright, y/n, he says with a small chuckle motioning for Natasha to leave.
"So, y/n," he continues. "Our well, uh situation isn't something I was expecting but thank you for wanting to meet with me,"
"Of course, Mr Barnes,"
"James, please call me James."
"Uh yes okay, James," you say nervously.
"I see you're nervous and you have every reason to be, given my profession and everything and I wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to terminate the pregnancy,"
You were surprised and you opened your mouth but no sound came out. Just then, you realised he had a prosthetic metal arm. He noticed you looking at it and took his sleeve off completely for you to see. It shone and glimmered, the sunlight reflecting off of it.
"I'm not ready to be a mom, James," you blurt out nervously. "This wasn't part of my plan, I was going to wait and now..."
You hold your face in your hands and tears stream down your face. He gets up quickly to sit beside you and holds his hand out for you to take. You spoke up before he could and continued. "But, I also know about your situation, Dr Kessner told me about your cancer...I'm so sorry that happened to you...so I've decided that I'm gonna keep it and then when it's over I'll be out of your life."
"Wow, y/n, are you sure?" he asks, his blue eyes full of sincerity.
"Yes, I'll do it, and it makes it easier knowing that you're more than able to provide a comfortable and healthy life for the kid."
"Okay, alright then, thank you so much. But I just have one request,"
You look up at him. "There's a lot of people in this town who want to hurt me and the people who are close to me....so will you stay here for the duration of the pregnancy? You'll be provided with a room of course, and Peter will be with you whenever you need him,"
You thought it over for a while and then agreed as it was the most practical option. You went back to your apartment to gather your stuff and Wanda gave you a tearful goodbye.
"Be safe, y/n, I'll miss you."
"It's only for nine months, you sap," you say hugging her tightly.
He walks ahead of her through the snowy trees as if he is searching —searching for something. She follows with feather-light steps, an arrow notched in her bow, but she will not fire. She wants to see where he leads her. Wants to see his face. To hear his voice.
A mountain looms up ahead, crowned with three stars.
A wolf howls mournfully in the night, but she is not afraid.
She follows the man, follows the strange tugging in her heart, ice coating her lungs with every breath.
Fun fact: when Feyre is dreaming of him searching for something in the woods she’s watching him dream about searching for Azriel and Cassian in the woods of Illyria 🙃
Sorry I promise I’m working on this! The lucky one has taken my priority, only one chapter left, but I’ve been working on this too!
Since moving in with Rowan, she didn’t spend much time by herself anymore, and while being alone wasn’t necessarily bad, it wasn’t something she was used to now. She missed his laugh, his snarky comments, his love, his body. Maybe it was because they were both busy at work, or maybe because he was one thousand percent was going to propose and wanted to make it special, but whatever the reason, they hadn’t had sex for a whole week. Since their little tryst in the closet.
While that wasn’t too long retrospectively, Aelin was a little wound up.
She needed an orgasm.
But she couldn’t help but laugh a bit bitterly when she pulled up to the hotel, the same hotel from that convention months before. The hotel where they’d slept together for the first time, arriving there as enemies and leaving there as lovers. And it just got worse when she’d realized that by some twist of fate, it was the same exact room too.
She was supposed to be at a nice dinner, her boyfriend getting down on one knee. And she was decidedly not doing that.
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