#tom sato x mc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alj4890 · 1 year

Text

To Make It Better

(Tom Sato x F!MC*Taylor Vance) in a Choices It Lives Beneath drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge with the prompt: kisses against a wound.

A/N I've wanted to write for these two for a long time. One of my favorite scenes in It Lives Beneath is when Tom offers to help the MC with some first aid on the cult boat (and realizes he's in love *sigh*). I think, given how adorably sweet he is that he would have offered to treat her wounds in previous chapters. In this drabble, I'm going to have it happen after the attack at the gala.

Rating: Mature for brief mentions of violence and death *trigger warnings*

Masterlist

Taylor couldn't wrap her head around all that happened. The past events themselves defied belief. There really is a cult in Pine Springs! Her grandfather was not only a member but had also admitted to being part of the group who killed her parents. Then the monsters coming out of the woods to attack were just the icing on the cake.

And let's not forget the weird ghost skeleton in the lake who tried to drown her brother, Elliot.

If that wasn't enough to kill her, at least in spirit, then the rich jerk who was hosting the party tried to finish the job.

Remembering how it felt to be lifted in the air made Taylor shiver. The weird, mystical power Richard Sutcliffe used to choke her without even touching her made chill bumps erupt across her skin.

"What a night." Taylor mumbled as she collapsed in one of the kitchen chairs.

She gazed around her grandfather's kitchen. The log cabin had seemed cozy when she and Elliot first moved in. Now, she wondered at the shadows. They possessed a slightly ominous edge to them since she knew the kind of man her grandfather was.

Is he really a murderer? Is that why Mom and Dad never had him come around while I was growing up? Did they know Grandpa was evil?

A knock at the door made Taylor nearly jump out of her skin. Fear trickled down her spine as she crept quietly to peep out the window.

Her body relaxed once she made out Tom's faint outline in the porch light.

"Hey." She motioned for him to come in. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you." Tom ducked his head bashfully with that admittance. "When Imogen's dad said he needed to talk privately to you and Elliot, I knew I couldn't horn in."

"That's really sweet of you." Taylor said. "You want to sit down?"

"Yeah!" He cleared his throat. "That'd be um, yeah."

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"What's in the box?" She asked.

Tom looked down in surprise as if seeing the box he'd carried over for the first time.

"It's a first aid kit." His cheeks heated with color. "I um, I noticed you got banged up tonight and thought you could use some help."

He gestured towards her left shoulder. "You were bleeding there earlier."

"You could tell?" Taylor joked. "I thought wearing a red dress would hide that sort of thing."

Tom grinned at her. "What can I say? Nothing gets past these sharp eyes of mine."

He pushed his glasses up then popped the top off the container. He began to tske out bandages along with antiseptic spray and cream.

Taylor bit down on her bottom lip as she carefully eased her nightshirt off her shoulder.

Tom winced at the sight of deep gashes along the once flawless skin. He gently touched near the wound while studying it.

"Give it to me straight, Doc." Taylor looked over her shoulder at him. "Will I live?"

"You'll live." He began to clean it with some alcohol. "It's going to hurt like hell for a while, but you'll make it."

Taylor sucked in a painful breath when he dabbed at the deepest part of her scratches.

"Sorry." Tom gently rubbed her back with his free hand. "We have to clean this before I bandage you up."

"I know." Taylor hissed when fresh alcohol was added. "Damn weird snake bear thing! I'd like to rip its claws out!"

Tom fought a grin as she described all the ways she would tear the monster apart if it ever crossed her path again.

He next applied some antibacterial cream. It had some type of numbing agent that helped Taylor calm down.

"That feels good." She mumbled, relaxing back some closer to him.

"Yeah?'

"Yeah."

Tom added more, gently dabbing it into every crevice of the claw mark.

He reached for a set of gauze.

"Still good?" He checked.

"Yep." Taylor looked at him over her shoulder. "Though I think there is something that could make it better."

"What's that?" Tom searched through the first aid kit. "Other than sutures, I don't think I have anything else that can help heal it faster."

"Haven't you ever heard of kissing to make it better?" She asked.

Tom's face turned beet red. He nervously tucked a lock of his own hair behind his ear while debating on whether or not she was serious.

Does she really want me to kiss her on her shoulder?

After all, they had already kissed a couple of days ago. Granted, she'd been the one to kiss him. But still...he really wanted to kiss her again.

"I uh, I don't think you want me kissing your wound." He stammered.

"Maybe not directly." Taylor replied. "But I wouldn't say no to some kisses around it."

Tom blinked as he stared at her shoulder.

Taylor softly sighed. She knew she shouldn't pressure him into kissing her. She simply couldn't help herself. When she first met Tom Sato, she'd been instantly smitten. Seeing him take out the first monster who attacked her made her fall even harder for him. Take that and add in the fact that he believed her story about the ghost in the lake without question, she knew she was almost in love with him.

He was everything she'd been looking for in a guy. He was sweet. He had a great sense of humor. And...Tom was incredibly brave.

Why wouldn't I fall hard for---

Taylor remained perfectly still when she felt the first brush of his soft lips upon her skin. Her eyes closed over the strange flutters zigzagging in her stomach as he dotted gentle kisses around her wound.

His arms slid around her waist as he pressed a sweet kiss to the side of her neck.

"How's that?" Tom's voice was deeper with emotion than it had been before.

"Perfect." Taylor whispered.

"Then let's get you bandaged up."

Once he finished, the two settled closer to one another on the couch.

"You want to talk about what went down tonight?"

Taylor scooted even closer to his side while shaking her head.

Tom quietly touched her arm in understanding.

"Would you mind staying?" She asked. "At least for a little while?"

"I don't mind at all."

Taylor lifted his arm and snuggled under it, pulling it around her.

Tom grinned at her doing so.

"Comfortable?" He teased.

"Very." She pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, you know, for being here and helping me with everything."

He brushed another kiss on her lips. "Anytime."

#thirty kisses in thirty days #choices it lives beneath #tom sato #tom sato x f!mc #choices fic writers creations #choices the stories you play #choices ilb

4 notes · View notes

aces-and-angels · 10 months

Text

Title: Close to You (SFW Edition)

A/N: Hello friends! I had the sudden urge to reread a fic I had originally written for ILAW and decided that I wanted to give it a makeover. Why? 1. bc I’m always up for exploring Ro’s life post-finale. and 2. I thought it would be nice to have a version of this story to share with the girlies (gn) who aren’t into nsfw content.

To make things exciting for old and new readers, instead of just removing this fic’s ‘dirty thirty’ scene, I wrote an alternate scene in its place. For returning readers, the new content begins under #3. As always, I hope y’all enjoy 🖤

Pairing(s): Abel x MC (F!Rowan), Connor x MC (M!Devon)

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: Set sometime after the ILW finale (Mixed Route) by @itlivesproject; The many times Rowan wakes up without Abel, and the one time she does.

cw: language; brief mention of blood

—

Mornings were usually lost on Rowan. Despite following Jocelyn’s intense training regimen, chasing down horrors left her exhausted on a good day. And on a bad one? The ever-shrinking rolls of gauze and medical tape in the first aid kit speak for themselves.

But today was neither a good day nor a bad one. It was the last one. The last one in California, that is- and knowing that left her restless.

It’s pitch black when she wakes up. The world may as well be at a standstill. There were no cars on the road. The neighbors have long since turned in for the night. Even the croaks and whistles of nature disappeared into the wind. She pointedly avoids the clock mounted on the opposite wall. It’s better this way. Easier for her to pretend that time had stopped altogether.

As the grogginess fades, Rowan becomes aware of the weight resting on her. A soft smile graces her lips as she realizes what it is. Or rather, who it is. Abel had rolled over to her side. His head found purchase in the crook of her neck while his arm loosely draped over her frame. So clingy, she thought, raising her hand to stroke his hair. He lets out a pleased hum in response, nuzzling further into her skin.

There’s no stopping the warmth that creeps inside her chest. It swells, dipping down to her belly and back up again, filling her heart. Slow, yet instantaneous. With her eyes locked on him, she hangs onto the moment. No sensation, no matter how little, goes uncherished. Her arm grows numb, but she doesn’t dare to move.

But eventually, her hold on time loosens. The moment fades as her breath gradually matches his, her hand still on his head. All the while, the clock on the wall ticks away. Cars begin to fill the streets. The croaks and whistles of nature mix back in with the wind.

—

“Live from KQED news, I’m Natalia Navarro, filling in for Diane. Good news for commuters! Traffic this morning on the-”

Half-asleep, Rowan blindly reaches out, feeling for the smooth surface of the phone screen. Her irritation grows the longer she searches. Glasses. Water bottle. Abel’s copy of Treasure Island. Glasses again. Where the hell is it? The news reporter continues to babble on, moving from traffic to weather. It’s only when they reach the sports segment does a much larger hand guide hers toward the phone. With a single swipe, the broadcast finally goes silent.

“It’s easier to find things with your eyes open, y’know,” Abel chuckles.

“Tell that to the blind,” she counters.

“You’re not blind. You’re stubborn. Wanna open them for me now?”

“Nope, ‘s too early.” She doesn’t miss how his mouth curves up even with her eyes shut. Not a minute passes before he’s shifting his body, the sheets rustling with his movements. Then, there’s a soft peck on her cheek.

“Still too early?” The sheer proximity and the low timber of his voice made her shudder.

“Mhm,” she responds, barely suppressing a smile. The bed dips as Abel leans in closer. Her body stiffens with anticipation. Another featherlight kiss, this time on her neck. Quick, but enough to make her skin tingle. “You’ll have to try harder than tha- AH!” A sudden wetness in her ear startles her eyes wide open.

“Gotcha,” Abel grins, triumphantly sticking his tongue out at her. Despite his teasing, his gaze was gentle. It made it annoyingly difficult to glare at him. But she wasn’t quite ready to yield to his charm.

“You are such a- mmph-” he swallows her words with a kiss.

“M’sorry,” he murmurs against her lips, slating his mouth over hers once more.

The will to fight back vanishes- as does any thoughts she had left in her mind. All of them were replaced by the need to glide her hands anywhere she could reach. To feel everything- the rough edges of his scars, the steady thump of his heartbeat, the air leaving her lungs as she kisses him senseless. But, much to her disappointment, Abel pulls away first. “You were saying?” he asks, his tone slightly taunting.

“Um- I- you-” she stammers, unable to form a cohesive thought. Her attempts to collect herself fail miserably. Abel moving closer to rest his forehead on hers also didn’t help anything.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he whispers. That snaps Rowan out of her daze.

“That’s my line,” she smirks, brushing her nose with his. “And how dare you. I’m always cute.”

“You certainly are.” His hand gently cups her face, lingering briefly before dropping to her side. They stay that way, lying face to face, and breathe each other in. Unlike earlier, the room was now full of color. Morning light peeks through the blinds, casting a beautiful, golden hue over Abel’s features. He glows brighter than any sun. Much easier to stare at too, Rowan jokes in her head. “What’s that smile for?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how cute you are for someone with a raging case of bedhead,” she snorts, attempting to tame his unruly mess of hair.

He lets out an exaggerated gasp, which causes her to snicker even more. Tugging at a loose strand of her hair, he sasses back. “You should see what I’m looking at.”

“Baby, what you’re looking at is sheer perfection.”

His eyes glimmer with mischief. “Perfection could use a hairbrush.”

“Rude,” she scoffs, playfully smacking his arm. Still, she allows him to pull her into his arms. Wrapping her own around his broad frame, Rowan feels his shoulders shake. “You’re lucky I love you,” she mumbles into his neck.

“Luckiest man alive,” he manages to choke out between laughs. The joyous, airy sound is infectious, and she finds herself unable to keep a straight face. After a few minutes, his laughter dies out, and there’s a slight pause. Something in the air shifts. Then, ever so softly, he calls out. “Ro?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna miss you.” Her chest tightens at the sadness in his voice. The reality she desperately wanted to escape had finally caught up with her. But the only thing worse than her leaving Abel was leaving Abel upset. So, with a deep breath, she steels her nerves and pulls away just enough to look at him directly.

“Hey, I’m still here,” she soothes, lovingly stroking his cheek with her thumb. He glances over at the wall. His frown deepens.

“Only for another hour,” he grumbles, his eyes glued to the minute hand. Shit, was it already that soon? “I swear, that thing moves faster when you’re here.”

“Baby, look at me.” Her gentle tone brings his attention back to her. “One, I hate that damn clock too.” That earns her a short, breathy laugh. “Two, it’s not forever. Just for now. And three, I love you.”

“I love you. So much.” With that, he leans in and kisses her. Slow and sweet- like they had all the time in the world. Until they didn’t.

—

The hour was up before they knew it. Outside, Rowan slides into the driver’s seat of her car. Abel sticks his head through the open window. “Did you pack your charger?”

“Yes, you watched me pack it remember?”

“Right,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, how about your wallet? Do you have that?”

“And all the cards that go with it.”

“What about-”

“Abel,” she interrupts his well-intentioned checklist.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got everything. I promise.” She rubs his hand comfortingly, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Alright,” he concedes. “Drive safe, yeah?”

“Go 30 miles over the speed limit. Got it.” Rowan kisses him once. Then, twice. Then, once again. She bumps her forehead with his. “Love you.”

“Love you more. Now go before I change my mind and carry you back inside.” Reluctantly, Abel steps away, allowing her to roll up her window. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life. She takes more time than necessary to switch between radio stations. Unbeknownst to her, Abel watches as she needlessly adjusts her mirrors with a sad smile. She does it for the same reason his feet stay rooted at the side of her car door: to savor those final few seconds together.

—

The five-hour drive to Westchester was nothing new to her. She had become somewhat of an expert, no longer relying on the GPS to guide her home. Straight highways eventually curved into winding mountain roads. It’s late in the afternoon when she arrives. The sky had turned grey as clouds blocked out the sun’s rays. She is grabbing the last of her bags from the trunk when someone yells, “Rowan, is that you?” Sitting by the apartment building was Señora Gomez.

“Yeah, it’s me! Hi Señora,” she greets warmly, walking over to her.

“How was California?”

“Fantastic. Abel says hi. He also told me to tell you to lay off the smoking.” She gives a pointed look at her hand.

“That pendejo is 300 miles away, yet still finds a way to nag me,” she clicks her tongue, begrudgingly putting out her cigarette. Rowan stifles a laugh.

“Well, he does a little more for you than that.” The older woman’s eyebrow quirks up with interest. Grinning, she takes out a medium-sized container from her suitcase. “He baked you these conchas. He wanted to make you a tres leches cake, but I thought these would survive the drive better.” Señora Gomez’s eyes light up, her hands eagerly reaching for her gift.

“Ay, I knew I liked that boy for a reason,” she beams, her previous qualm against him already forgotten. “Muchas gracias, mija. Here, take one! You must be hungry from driving.” Knowing better than to refuse her offer, Rowan graciously accepts. The stickiness from the topping instantly coats her fingers. Much like Abel, Señora Gomez stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to eat. Several crumbs fall from her hand as she takes a bite.

“’Fank you,” she says, swallowing before speaking again. “Enjoy those. I’m gonna head inside.”

“I will,” she practically chirps. Rowan grabs the handle of her suitcase and makes her way up to her apartment. After struggling to unlock the door, she’s nearly tackled to the ground by a very excited Moss.

“Damn, Moss. At least let me get inside first,” she chuckles, dropping her bags in the corner. Crouching down, she coos, “Did you miss me, boy?” Moss barks loudly in response. Rowan scratches behind his ear, making his bony tail wag in delight.

“For an undead dog, he’s a damn good runner. Might be better than you, Burke,” Jocelyn says from her spot on the couch.

Ignoring her lighthearted jab, Rowan continues to pet Moss. “Thanks for watching him, Joss. I really appreciate it.”

She shrugged off her gratitude. “Eh, it’s no problem. How’s the nerd?”

“Abel’s doing fine. You should’ve tagged along. It would’ve been fun.”

Her nose scrunches up. “Watch you two be gross during the day and hear you guys fuck through the walls for an entire week? Pass.”

“We didn’t-” Rowan’s protest falters as Jocelyn crosses her arms, giving her a flat look. “It wasn’t the entire week,” she mutters unconvincingly.

“Right. Anyways, I’m gonna head out. Don’t forget- we’re meeting up with the others tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t let you down, coach,” she salutes, which earns her a fond eyeroll.

“Get some sleep, Burke. You look like shit,” she barks over her shoulder. The door clicks shut, leaving her alone with Moss.

“C’mon boy, let’s make some dinner,” she claps. The pitter-patter of his paws follow her to the kitchen, where he (somewhat) patiently waits for his food.

—

The rest of the evening is uneventful. Unpacking her suitcase turned into watching reruns of Dateline. She leans forward, engrossed by the witness testimonies. It’s always the husband. Suddenly, her phone chimes, lighting up the screen with a notification. Her face softens as she reads what it says:

Abel💛: Heading to bed soon- sweet dreams, baby. I love you

She rapidly types back a response, her attention still glued to the television.

Rowan: love you ♥

The phone chimes two more times.

Abel💛: Ro, stop watching Dateline

Abel💛: It’s late. Go to bed

She frowns. How’d he know- Another chime.

Abel💛: We share a Hulu account

Amused, she responds.

Rowan: Okay, mom. I’m going lol

She shuts off the TV. “Looks like the jig is up for us, buddy.”

Moss yawns loudly, stirring from his spot on her lap.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s bedtime.” He hops off the couch and shuffles his way to his dog bed. Within minutes, his loud snores fill the living room. “Night Moss.”

Rowan sheds off her outerwear, slipping on one of Abel’s old college hoodies. Crawling into the sheets, she sends him a picture of her in bed with a text that says, ‘happy?’ He responds immediately.

Abel💛: Very. You look incredibly hot in that btw

Rowan: that’s why i wore it

Abel💛: You’re evil

Rowan: an incredibly hot evil genius- i know, i’m amazing.

Abel💛: I’m sleeping before you give me any more ideas 😓

Rowan: i say lean into that inspiration- sweet dreams, baby 😘

She sets her phone on the nightstand along with her glasses. It doesn’t take long for her eyelids to droop, growing heavier with every blink. Curling on her side, she inhales the faint scent that lingered on her hoodie. Notes of cinnamon and soap lull her into a dreamless slumber.

—

“Live from WNX, this is Cameron St. Claire. Good morning, Westchester! We’ve got a great show for you folks. Today’s guest is former congresswoman-”

Rowan’s hand slaps at her phone, shutting off the alarm. Every part of her body protested against being awake; Her legs refused to move- her eyes struggled to open. But she muscles through the drowsiness, not wanting to be late.

She stretches her arms out, sighing in relief as her spine cracks with a satisfying pop. Her hand falls, landing on the space next to her- right where Abel would be. She clutches at the empty sheets. It’s not forever. Just for now.

—

*one week later, Rowan’s apartment*

The bathroom counter was littered with various tubs, tubes, and palettes. Rowan’s hand steadies at her lash line, carefully applying eyeliner. Her wrist flicks up to draw a perfect wing. Well, a passable one, at least. It had taken a lengthy YouTube tutorial and several makeup wipes, but the results were worth it.

She strolled into the living room, stopping in front of the floor-length mirror. Damn. I’m hot. Jocelyn told her it was overkill to buy a new black dress to eat at home. But the way it hugged her curves was all the reason she needed to get it. Plus, she knew it would drive Abel crazy. They did agree to dress up, after all.

“What do you think, Moss?” Moss, lounging on the couch, perks up at his name. She strikes a pose for him. “Pretty good, huh?”

He barks happily, the best compliment he could give.

After her shift at the bar, she’d gone out to grab everything she needed. A white tablecloth to add a bit of flare. Candles for ambiance. And the pièce de résistance: Thai food from Kanda House. Her laptop was placed on the opposite side of the dining table, the camera pointed at where she was seated. She quickly shakes her wireless mouse, clicking on the Zoom link Abel sent her yesterday. Only her video appears on the screen. Guess I’m early. Out of habit, she turns off her camera and microphone while she waits.

Her fingers tap rhythmically against the hardwood. A soft, orange glow radiates from the candlelight, its flames gently flickering left and right. Rowan’s eyes follow the flames dance, watching the wax slowly melt away.

“Baby, are you there? Can you hear me?” Her face immediately lights up at Abel’s voice. She unmutes her microphone.

“I’m here! Ready to be impressed?”

“By you? Always.”

“Alright, turn on your camera on three. One… two… three,” she clicks the camera icon. Their video feeds turn on simultaneously. “Hi,” she greets softly.

“Hi,” he echoes. “Wow. You look-”

“I know. So do you.” Unlike her, he opted to wear something that was already in his closet. Not that she minded. Quite the opposite. She couldn’t help but admire him in his father’s old blazer, entranced by the way it stretched at his shoulders. “I like the suit,” she compliments.

‘I love yours,” he sighed.

Rowan bit back a smile. “You love my suit?”

He blinks, confused, before correcting himself. “Dress. I meant dress. Cut me some slack, okay? I’m processing.” A sense of pride surged through her at knowing she could have that effect on him, even virtually.

“Process away, professor. I did get dolled up for you, after all,” she teases, leaning closer to the camera.

“Consider your efforts thoroughly appreciated.” A buzz from his phone breaks him out of his trance. His eyes dart down, flashing with recognition at the message. “Speaking of effort, I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” She can barely contain her curiosity, her mind shuffling through all the possible things he could’ve done.

“Should be at your door any minute now,” he sings. As if on cue, there is a knock on her door. Moss jumps off the couch to inspect the scene himself. He eagerly circles around the welcome mat, barking at the unexpected visitor.

“Moss, down,” Rowan commands. Obediently, he scoots further back. “Good boy,” she praises, then turns back to Abel. “Who is that?”

A knowing smirk spreads on his lips. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

Giddily, she half-jogs to the door, smoothing out her dress. A deliveryman, no older than 20, stood outside with a large bouquet of white calla lilies in hand. “Rowan Burke?”

She raises her hand. “That’s me.”

“These are for you. Please sign here.” She quickly scribbles her signature on his tablet before taking the flowers from him. “Cool, you’re all set. Have a good night.”

“You too,” she replies, shutting the door. The shock had barely worn off by the time she sits back down. “Oh. My. God.”

“My coworker’s brother is a florist. I picked those because they reminded me of your hair. You like them?” Abel asks, his expression hopeful.

“Baby, I…” she trails off, mesmerized by the elegant display of lilies in front of her. They stood tall, carefully arranged amongst smaller bundles of baby’s breath. She reaches up to touch one of the petals, appreciating the soft texture between her fingertips. Her heart constricts inside her chest, a rush of emotion hitting her all at once. “I fucking hate you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting that response. “What?! Why?”

“Because I really want to kiss you right now and I can’t,” she whines helplessly.

His features soften. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me when we see each other again.”

“I intend to. I’ve got quite the tab to settle with you,” she quips.

Grinning, he continues their banter. “Do you now?”

“Mhm, and I pay with interest,” she winks flirtatiously. Suddenly, a loud gurgle erupts from her stomach.

“We can discuss your payment plan after dinner. Let’s eat,” Abel chuckles, picking up his fork from the table. They spent the rest of their date chatting over their respective meals. She enjoyed a green curry while he ate away at his leftover barbacoa from last night.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you,” Rowan exclaimed, her words muffled by the rice in her mouth. “I got promoted! You are looking at Westchester Bar & Grill’s newest bartender.”

“That’s great, baby,” Abel congratulated.

“I know! I finally got out of dishwashing duty. And here’s the best part: I get a 30% employee discount on all the food and drinks there. Next time you visit, we’re getting hammered.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll just stick to the wings. I’m not much of a drinker.” To further prove his point, he holds up his glass of water.

“Aw, why?”

“Because the last time I got drunk, I ended up doing the butterfly naked in a pool.”

She snorts, hiding her laugh behind a napkin. “The butterfly?”

“A rendition of it, yeah,” he elaborates sheepishly.

“You’re such a dork,” she shakes her head. “Okay, no getting hammered. We can be fancy and slowly sip on a glass of white wine together, instead.”

He smiles warmly at her. “Sounds perfect.”

“Of course it does. It was my idea,” she boasted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her mood sours as her eyes catch the time displayed on the microwave. “I should get going. I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Me too,” he agreed dejectedly.

Neither of them move to end the call.

The candles on the table had melted down to tiny nubs, more flame than wax at this point. They don’t say goodbye. Goodbyes hurt too much. They leave that word unspoken, choosing to say this instead:

“I love you, Ro.”

“I love you too, Archaeology Boy.”

And then her laptop goes dark.

—

*another day in Westchester*

Not many people tend to frequent Westchester’s only bar. The occasional patron that would stumble in during the day was far more likely to be there for the food rather than the drinks. Which made it the perfect time to learn how to bartend.

“Alright Burke, let’s see if you’ve done your reading.”

Rowan stares at Niel from behind the bar, a series of nozzles and glasses in front of her. “Hit me, boss.”

“I’ll have one classic daiquiri, an old fashioned, one Moscow mule, and three green tea shots.” He presses start for the timer on his watch. “Go.”

In a flash, she sets all the glassware upright for mixing before turning to grab the liquor. The ingredients along with any garnishes that were needed were already prepped. This was simply a test of speed and finesse- her third attempt since being promoted. Her first try ended with spilled liquor, a sticky floor, and a broken shot glass. The bottles that once felt foreign in her hands- too heavy and awkward to grasp- were now held with a firm, confident grip as she poured out the liquid with practiced ease. It wasn’t long until she slid his completed order towards him. “Your libations, good sir.”

Niel stops the timer. “Hm, not bad.”

“Not bad? I crushed that.”

“Let’s put a pin on the ego until after I try the drinks, yeah?” He picks up the bronze mug closest to him, eyeing its contents before taking a sip. There was no obvious sign of disgust. That’s good, I think? But Niel left little up for interpretation, his face remaining stoic as he smacked his lips together to assess the flavors. Being the only two people in the bar only added to the scrutiny she felt. The only sounds between them were the clank of glasses against the wooden countertop.

“So?”

“So what?”

“How’d I do?”

Niel sniffs, setting down his empty shot glass with a thud. “Decent presentation overall. You don’t need to look up the ingredients anymore, which is good. You’re still a heavy pourer, though. I'll go bankrupt if you keep that up.”

“I’m sensing a big, fat but coming,” she sings, leaning forward with a smirk tugging at her lips.

“But you managed to pass the test, kid,” he sighs. His exasperation only grew as she celebrated her triumph.

“Fuck yeah! Goodbye dishes, hello sweet tip jar. Up top,” Rowan hollered, holding out her hand to Niel, who only stared at her palm blankly. “Oh, c’mon boss. Don’t leave me hanging.”

There’s a brief pause. A moment where she thinks her request will be denied. Then, it comes- the roughness of his weathered skin meeting hers in a single, satisfying slap. “Anyone tell you that you’re insufferable yet?”

“Too many to count. I take it as a compliment,” she snickers, putting the empty shot glasses in the sink. “What do you want me to do with the extra drinks?”

“Consider this happy hour, Burke.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re not bullshitting me, are you? Like if I agree, you won’t fire me right?

“Ain’t anyone here to entertain. Just make sure you’re sober before the dinner rush.” With that, Niel swipes the old fashioned and heads towards his office in the back.

“I love this job,” she hums, sipping on a daiquiri.

~later that night~

“Get yer paws off my keys, woman!”

Rowan groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. I spoke too soon. “Jasper, you’re drunk. You can’t drive.”

“The hell I can’t! I’m per- belch- perfectly fine,” he slurs. His poor attempt to prove her wrong ended with him faceplanting on the floor.

“That looks about right.” She pockets his keys before moving to lift him off the floor.

“That was smooth,” Devon comments from his stool.

“Are you here just to criticize me?" Rowan grunts, pushing Jasper up against the nearest booth. He snores loudly, but otherwise is dead to the world.

"I'm here for the free booze, actually. The critiques are a bonus," he winks cheekily.

"What he means to say is thank you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" Connor gives his fiancé a pointed look, which he returns with one of his own. They stare each other down, having a full conversation with their eyes alone.

Eventually, Devon relents. "Ugh, fine. Thank you for the free booze. Happy?"

"Very." Connor gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Aw, that was really moving," she coos, placing a hand over her heart. Her façade crumbles into a fit of laughter as he teasingly flips her off. "But you guys don't have to thank me. Consider it an early wedding gift."

"There will be another gift from you at the actual wedding though, right?"

Connor nudges him with his elbow. "Devon!"

"What? I'm just asking!"

Rowan only smirks, returning to her place behind the bar. She slides a half empty champagne bottle towards them. "I trust you two will know what to do with the rest of this. I'm gonna call a cab for Jasper."

"Hey, you didn't answer the question!"

Connor pats him lovingly on the shoulder. "Let it go, sweetheart."

"Yeah, let it go sweetheart," she taunts. Devon glares at her, ready to argue, but is quickly distracted by another glass of champagne being shoved into his hand.

"To us," Connor cheers, clinking their glasses together. Chuckling, Rowan takes the opportunity to escape and walks into Niel's office.

"Evening, boss. Jasper's passed out on table four."

Niel heaves out a long sigh then picks up the phone on his desk. "He didn't puke on my floors, did he?"

"Happy to report that your floors are vomit-free."

"Fantastic. Go make sure it stays that way," he says.

"On it," she salutes, turning back towards the bar. Upon her arrival, she catches Devon and Connor in the middle of a heated make out session, their champagne flutes empty and forgotten on the counter. Well, that didn't take long. They don't notice her presence at all- completely lost in each other's embrace. "Ahem."

The sound startles them both apart, their heads simultaneously whipping in her direction. It was hard not to laugh at their equally disheveled appearance. "Oh- uh- hey! H-how long have you been standing there?" Connor asks breathlessly, his voice hoarse.

"Long enough to see tongue." Her blunt response causes Connor to flush profusely.

"Don't mind her, babe. She's just jealous," Devon purrs, sliding his hand down Connor's chest suggestively, which only made him blush harder.

"W-we should head out," Connor suggests, gently prying his fiancé's hand off his body.

"Mm, yeah we should. I can't wait to-"

"And we're going!" Connor blurts out, cutting him off. "Ro, thanks for everything."

"It was my pleasure. You boys enjoy the rest of your night." She tips her head at them, thoroughly amused. Devon stumbles forward, giggling as he and Connor leave the bar hand in hand.

—

It’s nearly three in the morning by the time Rowan makes it back to her apartment. Moss, loyal as ever, greets her at the front door. "Hey, bud. What are you still doing up? Did you wait for me?"

He makes a small noise in his throat, nuzzling her leg lovingly.

"Good boy," she praises, scratching the spot behind his ear. After a moment, Moss licks her palm and trots to his bed. Taking his lead, she plops herself on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. The hours of standing had taken a toll on her feet. Turns out combat boots weren't the best choice of footwear for pulling a double shift.

For the first time that night, she checks her phone. One text from Amalia, two emails that are probably spam, and a voicemail from Abel.

Bitch: congrats on the new gig! shots on you next time i’m in town lol

She chuckles quietly while typing her reply.

Rowan: i’ll make sure to save the really good stuff if you bring over some la bandera

As expected, her message is left unread. Amalia always had the healthier sleeping pattern between them. Even before the nightmares. She goes to her voicemail next, pressing play.

“Hey baby!” Abel’s warm voice fills her ears, instantly bringing a smile to her face. “Remember that research proposal I'm working on? The rest of the team thinks we have a real shot at getting our grant approved! I’m so excited- I know I shouldn't get my hopes up too high, but I can't help it. I already baked two dozen sugar cookies trying to burn off all this energy. Anyways, I'm calling because I wanted you to be the first to know. Well, second. Lola called me earlier. Not sure when you’ll hear this so goodnight, good morning, or good afternoon if you end up sleeping through your alarms again. Love you.”

Her vision was blurry by the time the message ends. It was simple- nothing more than an update. So why was she teary eyed over it?

Maybe it was because Jasper decided to throw up right when her shift ended. Maybe it was from the soreness in her muscles from working a double. Or maybe it was just because it was 3 AM. Yeah, that’s it.

It’s 3 AM. She's tired.

It’s 3 AM and all she wants to do is call him, hear him talk way too fast that his words blend together because he's happy. But she doesn’t.

Because it’s 3. Fucking. AM.

If anything, she’d be pissed at him for being awake or pissed at herself for waking him up.

Frustrated, her gaze lands on the calla lilies resting on the coffee table. Its petals have since wilted despite her best efforts to maintain them, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. Not when the only thing she sees whenever she admires them is him. Him and his stupidly adorable face.

A face she could only see in flowers. One that’s forever mixed with golden rays of light. He’s plastered all over the walls- old family photos he couldn’t fit in his suitcase along with some of their own. Behind closed eyes, if she’s lucky, he appears in her dreams. She can see him everywhere. Just not in person.

It’s 3 AM, so she sends one last message. The only one her brain can manage to think of at a time like this.

Rowan: I miss you.

—

She wakes up to the sound of rain hitting the rooftop. There’s a nasty crick in her neck from passing out on the couch. Groaning, she turns away from the window, blocking the light with a throw pillow. Meanwhile, the calla lilies droop a little further as the pile of petals surrounding its vase grows. On the floor, her phone screen lights up. A single message is left unread.

Abel 💛: I miss you too

—

*one week later, at the warehouse*

“A gun?” Rowan examines the weapon in her hand, testing its weight. Huh, it’s pretty light.

“A dart gun,” Tom clarifies. “This bad boy is gonna make injecting horrors way easier. Allow me to demonstrate.” He takes the gun from her, unloading the cartridge. “See that chamber on the darts?”

She nods. “What about ‘em?”

“I filled them all up with Lucas’ serum,” he explains enthusiastically. “With this you won’t have to tackle every horror you see. Just pull the trigger and presto, another cured human.” He mimes shooting a horror down with his fingers. Impressed, Rowan claps him on the back.

“Nice work, Sato. Where’d you get all the darts anyways?”

“Parker knows a guy from Animal Control.”

“Hm, I guess there is a bright side to having a cop for a friend.” Tom snorts loudly, drawing the attention of the witches nearby. “When can I test it out?”

“Today, possibly. Devon found a new lead, but he’s driving up to Portland with Connor for a cake tasting. I’ve got work in an hour, so I’m out. Can you and Jocelyn take this one?”

Grinning, she whips out her cell phone. “Already on it.”

~one hour later~

The sun hung high in the sky. Tall trees surrounded her from all sides. Up ahead, Jocelyn examines a smear of blood splattered on a boulder. “Burke, come check this out.”

Rowan jogs to where she is, peering down at the rock. Her fingers swipe a line through the stain. “It’s still warm. Maybe-” a terrified shriek in the distance cuts her off. Her and Jocelyn take off immediately. They weave through the forest trail, cutting across a shallow river. Adrenaline courses through her, propelling her legs to run faster. “Which way?”

“Go right,” Jocelyn barks out. The screams grow louder. A harsh growl roars through the air.

“RRAGH!”

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!”

Rowan unholsters her dart gun, her boots pounding hard against the gravel below. A blood-splattered horror enters her field of vision. Next to them was a teenage boy, desperately trying to stumble away from his attacker. His face is marred with scratch marks. He receives another gash to his leg as the horror swipes at it with their claws.

“Hey ugly! Over here!” Rowan whistles. The horror spins around, their face twisting with rage. No longer interested in the boy, they charge directly at her. “That’s it. Just a little closer.” Her finger steadies itself on the trigger, waiting for a clear shot. She looks through the sight and lowers her shoulders to fix her aim. With a deep breath, she pulls the trigger. Shooting out the barrel, the dart hits the horror square in the chest.

They collapse to their knees, groaning as the serum enters their bloodstream. Tremors wrack through their body as their sickly grey skin transforms back into a warm beige. Their claws retract and their frame shrinks back to normal. “Wh-wha? Where am I?”

“About five miles off regulation hiking trails. Now let’s go,” she replies, pulling them up to their feet. They glance at the teenage boy, who was currently being bandaged up by Jocelyn. Their face morphs with regret.

“Was that because of me?”

Rowan looks at them with sympathy. “It wasn’t your fault. If you follow me, I can get you the help you need.”

“A-alright,” they nod, brushing the dirt off their clothes. “Um? Could you?” They point at the dart lodged in their chest.

“Right. Sorry.” Rowan grips the base of the dart and swiftly pulls it out. “Hey Joss! You okay if I go ahead and take them to the warehouse?”

“Yeah, sure. I won’t be- BURKE, YOUR LEFT!” She whirs her head around in time to see a second horror, much larger than the former, barrel into her, knocking her to the ground.

“Get- off- me-” she grunts, struggling to pry the horror’s hands off her arm. A kick to their abdomen pushes them off enough for her to crawl out from under them.

“You’re mine,” they sneer, baring their fangs out menacingly. A string of drool hangs loosely from their lip. Rowan tries to lift herself up, but the horror moves faster, tackling her back down. The force of the impact sends them both tumbling down a hill. A searing pain shoots through her as she slams into a jagged stone. There’s yelling in the distance. The weight of the horror on top of her is pulled off. A panicked voice tells, no, begs her to wake up. But she can’t seem to focus, her head suddenly hazy. Something trickles down her forehead. The last thing she sees is sunlight shining through the thick foliage of the trees. Then, everything goes quiet.

~meanwhile, at Rowan’s apartment~

Abel locks the car door behind him as he skips up the stairs of his old apartment complex. He spent the last couple of days in back to back meetings with his research students, but it was well worth it because it cleared his schedule for him to surprise Rowan. Excitement bubbled up inside his chest as he got closer to her door. She had loved the flowers he got her so much that he decided to buy the same bouquet again. Only this time, he could give it to her in person.

He adjusts the collar of his sweater and rolls back his shoulders before knocking on her front door. A moment passes. He knocks again. This is what I get for being spontaneous, he scolds himself. Taking out his phone, he calls her. The phone rings several times.

“Hey, this is Ro. Leave a message if you want. Beep.”

He tries again, but is met with the same voice message. Suddenly, his phone vibrates in his hand. BFFL 👩🏻‍🤝‍👨🏽 displays on the screen. He quickly taps the answer button. “Joss! Guess what? I’m back in town! Is Rowan with you? I guess I should’ve told her I was-”

“Abel, something happened.” The seriousness in her voice gives him pause.

“Where are you?”

“The hospital. Listen, she’ll be fine but-” His stomach drops. He’s too distraught to listen to anything else Jocelyn tells him. The flowers in his hand drop to the ground, forgotten. His feet are running before he can register that he’s moving.

—

*several hours later, at Westchester Medical Center*

The strong smell of antiseptic hits Rowan first. Machines whir and chime in a steady pattern.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Calling Dr. Benson to Room 8.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

She struggles to open her eyes. The florescent light above her too bright for her to bare. Through the small slit of her eyelids, she sees that she’s dressed in a white gown. Tubes of IV lines hang from her arm. Where am I? Something soft presses to her hand. It’s warm. Familiar. As the haziness fades, the ache in her limbs become more apparent. Everything is sore. Why does it hurt to breathe? Metal rings clang together. Some sort of curtain being pulled, she assumes. Then, a young man’s voice breaks through the white noise.

“Sir, only family is allowed to stay after visiting hours.”

“But I am family! I’m uh- I’m her fiancé,” Abel stutters out. Abel? But he’s in California. Wait. Am I in California? No, I was hunting with Joss…

“I don’t see a ring.”

“We’re getting it resized.”

The other person huffs out a disgruntled ‘whatever’ before exiting the room. There’s another squeeze to her hand. Abel’s thumb soothingly rubs over her knuckles. She tries to say his name, but her throat is tight. The best she can manage is a weak groan. “Nng.”

“Rowan?” Abel’s grip on her hand tightens. She begins to move, but winces as a stabbing pain shoots to her side. “Hey, take it easy,” he instructs gently, easing her back into bed.

“Aye aye captain.” Her eyes slowly flutter open. She smiles lazily at him. “Hey, sunshine.”

“How do you feel? Do you need anything? I can go get the nurse. Is your pillow-”

“Baby, slow down. I’m processing one question per minute right now,” she jokes, but her head does still feel like it’s spinning. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital. Y-you… you got-” Abel hiccups, his frown deepening.

“Hey, it’s okay-”

“It’s not okay!” He yells, his voice cracking. “You promised! You said you wouldn’t get hurt and you did! You-” he takes a shuddered breath before continuing. “You scared me to death.” His hair shields his face as he looks down at their joined hands.

“Abel…” He doesn’t move, except for the slight tremor in his shoulders. A teardrop lands on her hand. He’s crying. A bitter taste fills her mouth. He’s hurting and it’s her fault. She tries to think of something to say but she can’t think straight with that stupid beeping. Wait… that’s it! “Abel, do you hear that?”

“No,” he mumbles, too preoccupied with holding her hand to look at her.

“You don’t hear the beeping?”

He glances up, confused. “You mean the heart monitor?”

“Yeah. Do you hear it?”

“I hear it. So what?”

She gingerly moves her free hand to her chest and taps at her heart. “It means that this thing still works,” she smirks.

Abel let’s out something between a scoff and a laugh. But it’s enough to bring him out of his sorrow. “You’re an idiot,” he sniffles, wiping away his tears with his sleeve.

“But I’m your idiot.” She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “Also ‘idiot’ is a mean thing to call your fiancée.”

His eyes widen. “You were awake?”

“Barely. But I still heard it. So remind me, my oh so wonderful fiancé, how’d you propose? Did I know it was going to happen? How big of a diamond are we talking about here? I can’t quite remember on the account of the concussion,” she chuckles, wincing as pain shoots through her ribcage.

Smiling, Abel plays along. “It was a surprise. We talked about it beforehand, but you never knew when I was gonna pop the question. I finally asked during our romantic getaway in Mexico. And I went with a non-traditional moss agate ring. I thought it would suit you more.”

“Oo, did I cry?

“Like a baby.”

“Gross. I love it.”

Abel kisses the inside of her wrist. Then he moves up, placing soft pecks to each of her fingers with such reverence her heart does a flip. The heart monitor speeds up slightly. “I love you,” she breathes. “And I’m really glad you’re here.”

“So am I.” He brings her hand to his chest. She feels the steady thump beneath her palm. Gentle, yet strong. Just like him. “And I love you, Rowan Burke. More and more each day.”

—

In the morning when I wake And the sun is coming through Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness And you fill my head with you

Shall I write it in a letter? Shall I try to get it down? Oh, you fill my head with pieces Of a song I can’t get out

Can I be close to you?

12 notes · View notes