elegantlyeva

[elegantlyeva]

Can you please do shy!reader with Sirius? but she's a little more comfortable with him? and maybe something with gifts

DAY FIVE

Priceless

Summary: Finding the perfect gift for his perfect person was harder than Sirius thought.

Word Count: 1.1k 

After hours of dragging his feet through shops and flirting his way out of a scolding from two old women—because he shoved their kids trying to get to the front of the line—Sirius has decided he’s done with the holidays.

“What’s wrong with him?” Remus’s voice cut through the haze. He must’ve just gotten out of class.

“He’s being insufferable,” James replied with the kind of dramatic eye roll Sirius didn’t need to see to picture.

He groaned, sinking further into his chair.

“Is it the girl again?” Remus asks, placing his stuff on the table.

“Of course it’s the girl. It’s all he talks about anymore,” James yelps when Sirius brings his hand to smack the back of his head. “Ow.”

“You’re speaking of me like I’m not right here.”

“You’re acting like a sad lump. I told you, girls are easy. Get her flowers and write her name on them.”

“That’s impersonal,” Sirius muttered. “She’s not just any girl. She’s…” He trailed off, not knowing how to put it into words. She was perfect, but that hardly covers it.

“Why don’t you just ask her what she wants?” Remus asks, confused. James answers for Sirius.

“You’ll be alone forever, Moony. What girl wants you to ask? We’re supposed to know what they want.”

“Sounds like rubbish to me.”

“Enough. Both of you. You’re horrible friends and even less help,” Sirius groans.

Remus gives him a kind look and a pat on the shoulder. “S’alright, Padfoot. Have you gotten her anything to work with?”

Sirius sighs, nodding his head. “Practically something from every shop at Hogsmeade.”

“There’s the creepy drawing as well,” James brings up.

“Creepy drawing?”

“I’ll turn your hair green and say you did it to show your admiration toward Severus,” Sirius warns.

James puts his hands up in surrender.

Remus sighs. “Can we please stay on topic? What creepy drawing?”

“I had Roger Hughes help me paint this photograph of her and me together.”

“That’s nice,” Remus says. “What’s the problem?”

“Sirius is a horrible boyfriend,” James quips.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” he replies, rather mournfully. You had told him you wanted to move slowly, and he’s sure it’s because you think he’ll drop you for the next girl.

“I’m worried it’s too much,” he says instead.

“Why don’t you give her a label for the holidays?” James mumbles. Remus hushes him before Sirius can strangle the boy.

James gave a dramatic sigh. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Sirius let the conversation drop, gesturing for them to change the subject.

Two days later, he found you by yourself, your bag slung over your shoulder as you made your way through the corridor. He stepped up behind you, reaching for the handle of your bag to take it off your shoulder.

You flinched, and he cursed inwardly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand back, but you shook your head.

“It’s fine,” you smiled softly, letting him take your bag. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be looking for me.”

“No? Well, clearly they’ve been poisoned. I would’ve come looking for you earlier had I thought you’d be alone.” He takes your hand in his free one.

You laughed quietly. “Most of my friends have left for break already.”

“Shame,” he said, then added, “Good thing I found you before you started pining for their company.” He laced his fingers through yours, watching as a small smile tugged at your lips.

“Actually,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “I got you something.”

Your smile faltered slightly. “Why?”

Sirius blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean why? It’s the holidays, love.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I thought we agreed not to do gifts. You said it was too… relationship-y.”

“That was different!” Sirius protested, squeezing your hand again. “That was for my birthday. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

You frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You spent money on me.”

Sirius tsks. “Hush, woman. Let me finish.” Your glare and the urge to kiss you overtakes him, but he keeps his hands to himself.

“Before I give it to you, two things. One, if you poke fun at me, I’ll be heartbroken forever. Two, if you hate it or think it’s creepy—”

“Did you get me a voodoo doll or something?”

“Wh—no.” He frowns. “As I was saying, if you think it’s weird or whatever, I can give you some of the stuff I got you at Hogsmeade. Or if you really want, I can get you basic flowers like James suggested.”

You smile hesitantly, bringing a finger to poke him in the side. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He sighs. “Yeah, you would say that now.” He grabs something out of his bag—a poorly wrapped square... something.

He makes a move to hand it to you but takes it back. “Open it when I’m gone.”

“Sirius.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, finally giving you the package.

You pulled him over to a window ledge, sitting down as you carefully unwrapped it. Your expression softened immediately, face contorting to one of surprise, then fondness. “Oh.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, nerves creeping back in. “Oh?”

“Oh,” you repeat.

He sighs. “Darling, I’m gonna need more than that. Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

“Very pleased ‘oh,’” you say, smiling, cheeks feeling warm.

Relief washed over him. “Yeah?”

It’s a picture—well, a painting—of the two of you. A very pretty one at that. The two of you are outside on the lawn, and Sirius had said something that evidently made you laugh. The way his eyes are painted almost convinces you that he likes you. Like really, really likes you.

“I didn’t know you could draw, much less paint,” you add, a light tease in your words, but your eyes look so kind that he hardly cares.

“I can’t. Well, I couldn’t. I had to pay this Ravenclaw—Hughes—more than I’m willing to admit to teach me how.” 

Then, uncharacteristically nervous, “So, you like it?” You were staring rather hard.

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, surprising him for the first time that day.

“I love it. It’s pretty.” wrinkling your nose sweetly, “you put thought into it.”

“Don’t get sappy now.” Then, softer, “I’d like to be your boyfriend.”

He hears your breath hitch, and he’s ready to mask his hurt feelings when you respond, “I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

Sirius grinned, his confidence returning. “Yeah? Means you can’t get all cozy with other boys.”

“What other boys?” you ask, confused and a little dazed, still looking at the painting with adoration.

“Tricked you. If you agreed, I would know you’re seeing heaps of people.”

You laugh, and he can’t help himself any longer, pressing his lips to yours.

You tense at first but soon melt into him, eyes closed and lips soft.

When you pull away, matching smiles are on your faces.

[elegantlyeva]

Can you do John B and Gingerbread making? Ty!

DAY FOUR

Gingerbread & Sugar Cookies 

Summary: After a day with his friends, you suggest making gingerbread houses to warm yourselves.

Word Count: 0.6k 

John B was holding both of your hands in his, hoping to warm them after you both stayed outside with the others for far too long.

“I told you we should’ve come inside sooner,” he gently chastens.

You scowl slightly. “You can’t blame me. I’m in pain.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right. My bad.” But he squeezes your hands tighter.

“I didn’t want to dampen the mood. JJ looked like he was having fun, and Pope was talking so much, I didn’t want to ask you to leave. That would’ve been rude.” It was only your second time ever meeting them, so you were still trying to impress them.

“One, I offered to take us back here. Two, no one would’ve noticed, babe. You worry too much.” He brushes his nose against your cheek, causing you to laugh (his goal) and push him away.

“Well, it’s too late now,” you huff, heading to the kitchen to boil water. “Do you have tea bags?”

He looks at you like you’re crazy, and you roll your eyes. “Why’d I even ask?”

A trip to the corner store, a warm shower, and two tea bags later, the two of you are sitting at his table with the gingerbread kits you bought placed in front of you.

Originally, you just wanted to make gingerbread houses for fun, but John B decided to call it a competition. Now, with two minutes left, you’re both trying to add the finishing touches to your houses.

“Shit. This frosting is not working. My gumdrops keep falling off the roof.” When he hears your laugh, he tries peeking over the makeshift wall you built to hide your house, and you yelp, using your arms to cover it.

“Get away. You’re the one who wanted to make this a game. I was perfectly happy doing it together.”

He says your name in a half-whine, but you pay no mind, focused on making your garden of hard candy. “One minute, John B. You better hurry.”

“I give up. You win,” he deadpans, snatching your phone to turn off the timer and removing the box separating the two of you.

When he sees your house, his mouth drops open. “You cheated. There’s no way you had enough time. And what—did you use glue or something? How is nothing falling off?”

You shrug, a small smirk on your face as you say, “I tried to tell you we should’ve done this together. I used to make gingerbread houses for some of the younger kids at school to get service hours for graduation.”

He blinks slowly, his lips forming a firm line. “Of course you did.” But he grins when he sees your self-satisfied smile, admiring your house.

“You should know better. I’m good at everything.”

“Uh-huh. Remind me to ask about those paint stains on my rug.”

“That was hardly my fault. You didn’t want me to put any newspaper on the ground.”

“I assumed you could paint on the canvas.”

When you narrow your eyes, ready to rebut, he comes around the table, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest, kissing your cheek.

“Kidding, kidding. You’re right, you’re good at everything.”

“Don’t patronize me.” But you melt into his embrace anyway.

“I’m serious! Look at this.” He lifts up your house with one hand, but quickly sets it down when he sees your half-panicked look. He presses a few kisses to your lips.

“If you dropped it, that would’ve been grounds for a breakup,” you mumble.

He laughs, grabbing your hands and leading you to the couch before going to the kitchen to take the sugar cookies out of the oven. He brings out a stacked plate and your tea mug.

After a few moments of silence, John B settles next to you on the couch, his arm curling around your shoulders. You rest your head on his bicep and ask, “I won though, right?”

“Yeah, baby. You won.”

[elegantlyeva]

can you do a spencer and hot chocolate and maybe hes protective of her? or jealous

DAY THREE

Hot Cocoa

Summary: Spencer’s embarrassed after getting jealous.

Word Count: 0.4K 

Realistically, Spencer knew the jealousy that burned inside him was unfair to you. You had been nothing but perfect since the two of you got together two months ago.

You were beyond understanding when he showed up late to one too many dates due to work, reassuring him that it sucked but wasn’t his fault.

You never asked him to shut up, even when he knew he was talking too much.

You hadn’t been repulsed when he asked you to stay over at his apartment for the first time either, so why was he getting worked up over your co-worker buying you a hot chocolate?

It was stupid, and he mentally facepalmed. Here you were, draped across his lap, playing with the end of his sweater—a loose string he hadn’t pulled out yet—and he was worried over a drink.

As if sensing his thoughts (and maybe you did), you tapped his jaw with two fingers. “You okay? You’ve hardly spoken since you picked me up from work.”

He hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t say much else until he felt you shift to sit upright, causing him to frown.

“Spencer?” Your voice sounded worried, and he hated that it was his fault.

Clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, sorry. Long day.”

You nodded, not totally convinced but not wanting to pry either. You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and the act alone had him speaking up.

“Are you hungry? Better yet, thirsty? I can make you something,” he offered, though he didn’t specify what.

“Oh. I’m okay...” you trailed off, realizing he was already up and across the room. You furrowed your brows, mumbling under your breath, “Never mind.”

Not even five minutes later, Spencer was ushering you into the kitchen to sit at his counter, handing you a mug of hot cocoa.

The smell filled your senses, and the face you made when you took a sip had him relaxing slightly.

“It’s good, right? I made it the way you like it. I think. Although, maybe you like the way Ryan makes it more,” he said, scowling at the mention of the man’s name.

You gave him a knowing smile. “Spence...”

He shook his head. “No, no, I know it’s dumb. I know. But he was so... I don’t know. Not me.” Watching you frown, he sighed. “I’m not trying to be self-deprecating, I just—”

“No, you’re right. You’re nothing like him.” At his crestfallen look, you clarified, “Which is a really good thing. The best thing, actually. I might rip my hair out if you were anything like him. I’ve never met a man so obsessed with himself that he didn’t even care that he spilled the hot chocolate on the floor.”

When he sort of almost-smiled, you continued, “Not to mention he added way too many marshmallows. I mean, I couldn’t even taste the hot chocolate. Didn’t you notice I went inside your car empty-handed?”

“You threw it out.” It wasn’t a question. Spencer groaned, the tips of his ears turning pink, and took the mug from your hands to place it on the counter before wrapping his arms around you.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I reacted like that.” He mumbled.

“No apology needed. I’m happy to know you like me so much that you can’t even stand another guy giving me hot chocolate.”

“Don’t say it like that. He was flirting, I could tell.”

“Oh, you could tell?”

“Mannerisms.”

He squeezed you tighter when he heard you laugh.

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! if you are up for it can you write something with James potter and ice skating? Maybe r has been ice skating for years and James hasn't ever stepped foot on ice but is amazing somehow?

DAY TWO

Unfairly Balanced

Summary: James was much too good at ice skating for it to be his first time.

Word Count: 0.4K 

It was the last time you were ever going to be comforted by the fact that James Potter might be bad at something just because he had never tried it.

He was skating circles around you, for Merlin's sake.

The huff you let out caused him to laugh. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?" His tone was a mix of fondness and teasing.

The glare on your face intensified. “I’m the one who takes lessons. Shouldn’t I be better than my supposedly amateur skating boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve been here five minutes.”

He was about to say something—likely a joke, you presumed—but before he could, a first year went tumbling into you. Before you could fall, James grabbed your upper arms to steady you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed after scolding him just five minutes earlier for being good at the sport.

The first year stood up, muttering apologies profusely, until you waved the poor kid off.

You turned to face James. “Sorry. I’m being unfair. I’m happy you’re doing so well. I just wanted to help you…” Then you admitted, “That’s not true. I wanted to make fun of you first, then help you.”

He let out a cheerful laugh, the apples of his cheeks red from the cold. “Sorry, love. This is what happens when you have a multi-talented boyfriend.”

You replied dryly, “Ha. Ha.” Still, you were more than happy when he took your hand to skate around the edge of the frozen lake.

Another hour and a half passed before most of the students had left. The sun was setting, and you were ready to go inside too—your skating had become sloppy from exhaustion.

James looked perfectly fine, unaffected by the time spent skating.

“I don’t understand. It took me at least 30 minutes to skate without holding the wall, much less do laps around an area at the speed you’re going.” A hint of jealousy peeked through your tone, and James had the decency to look a bit sorry, maybe even guilty.

He skated to your side, hugging your waist until you were pressed against him, and kissed your pout away.

Once he heard your laughter, he let up his attack and helped you off the ice.

It wasn’t until later that you figured out what had really happened.

“Come on, love,” James groaned, following you like a puppy.

“I knew it! I knew that would've been impossible for you. I thought you were some gifted natural.” You were half-ecstatic, walking out of the Great Hall after Remus had accidentally revealed that James had asked him to charm his skates so they would skate for him.

“We got to skate together. Wasn’t that more fun than having to teach me?”

“No. Watching you fall would’ve been more amusing.”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around you. “Yeah, well,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you.”

[elegantlyeva]

Thank you again for the story! It was fantastic! I was wondering if you could maybe write one about different stages of their relationship. Like when they first met. Did Scott like her at first sight or did she wiggle her way into his heart? How was their first date?? Who fell first? It can all be one story or multiple. Whatever floats your boats! Thank you again!

DAY ONE

Snowy Encounter

a/n: This is long overdue <3

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: Scott meets (frostbitten) you for the first time.

The gloves covering your hands did nothing to stop the sting of the cold air, your knuckles becoming ashy from the dryness. 

You were passing out free hot cocoa, after being coaxed by your friend, who ended up backing out, and unfortunately for you, you never checked your phone. Oklahoma was borderline freezing this winter, compared to others.

Your toes were numb despite the layers of socks you had on, and you were now rethinking your decision to choose style over practicality in your boots.

You’d been giving out hot chocolate for at least 30 minutes before you couldn’t take it any longer. The urge to quit hit hard, or at least to take a 15-minute break, and you were about to ask for one when your (new) partner in this horrible task made a beeline for the bar across the street to ‘use the bathroom.’

Still, you knew helping people would be worth it, though

Wrong. It wasn’t worth it.

Ryan, you think her name was, never returned from the bar, and worse, it started to snow.

Sure, there was a small makeshift roof over the stand, but it was made out of an old blanket and wasn’t doing much to stop the snow from sticking to the ground.

It hadn’t snowed in Oklahoma for years, but of course, the day you had no choice but to be outside, it decided to pile up.

Your teeth chattered, your fingers were stiff to the point where it hurt each time you grabbed a cup to fill, and you were sure the hot chocolate was cold by now. Despite telling people, they still insisted on lining up.

With a sigh, you handed a cup to the stranger in front of you, ready to say the same line you’d been repeating:

“It’s cold by now,” you muttered, staring at the ground to keep any snow from blowing in your face from the wind.

“How much do I owe you?” the stranger asked, instead of reacting to your pessimism.

You did a double take at the voice, willing yourself to look up because anyone who sounded like that must be worth looking at.

Taking a frostbitten hand, the weird itchy feeling on your knuckles, which must be a sign they were falling off, you shielded your forehead to look up, and honestly, you were grateful you did.

He wasn’t just worth looking at, he was beautiful.

A steady frown on his face and hair poking out from the cap on his head, not to mention his eyes.

He cleared his throat, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Rubbing your hands together to warm them, you replied, “Oh, sorry. It’s free. I mean, it would be kind of cruel to charge you for a cold cup of milk.”

“You’re giving out free hot chocolate?” It was a lot of judgment coming from someone chewing gum in this cold—especially considering he was about to buy hot (cold) chocolate.

You furrowed your brows. “It’s for a good cause,” you said, shoving the cup into his hand.

“Right,” he deadpanned. “What’s the cause?”

“Holiday spirit?” Honestly, you couldn’t remember why you’d agreed to do this.

He snorted. “Well, I hope it’s worth getting frostbite for.”

You held back a glare, thinking he was much too pretty to be rude.

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering his next words. Without saying anything, he turned around and addressed the line behind him.

“I just took the last cup, so the rest of you idi... people can go home.” You heard the crowd groan, even a few curses thrown out, but for the most part, people left without too much fuss.

“Thank you,” you said, a smile appearing on your face. For a moment, your body warmed, at least internally.

“It would be a stupid ‘cause’ to give out free hot chocolate,” he muttered, shuffling in place.

“I’d like to point out that you were willing to pay for this cold cup of milk two minutes ago.”

The handsome stranger rolled his eyes, but you saw the corner of his mouth tip up. “You live in town?”

The question surprised you, but more so the fact that he was helping you pack away the cups and marshmallows into the bins.

“For the holidays.”

“That’s... descriptive,” he said slowly, giving you a side-eye.

“I’m staying with a few friends. They try to convince me every year to move here, but I don’t know.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, and after a couple more minutes, he was walking you to your car, carrying the rest of the stand, and helping you shove it into your trunk. Scott (you’d learned his name at some point between then and now) shut your trunk, and you quickly thanked him for the help.

“Thank you for that. You didn’t need to stay and help. I’m sure Ryan would’ve come back eventually.”

He raised a brow. “Boyfriend?” Then, “You’re welcome.”

The confusion on your face must have been obvious because he sighed, as though regretting asking in the first place.

“Ryan,” he clarified.

“Oh. No, I hardly know her. She’s a friend of a friend, I think, and she certainly didn’t find me very entertaining since she ran off.”

He laughed then, or at least you thought he did—it came out gruffly, and you could hardly tell.

You sneezed, and he dug into his pocket, pulling out a beanie and holding it out to you. “Here.”

Shaking your head and sneezing again, you replied, “No, that’s okay. I’m about to get in my car and head back anyway. You’ll need it more than I do.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving the beanie into your hands. “You look like you’re going to turn into an icicle. Just take it. I have a hat,” he said, motioning to the cap on his head.

“That’s hardly a hat,” you thought, but decided against saying so. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

When you sneezed again, he ushered you into your car.

You turned on the engine immediately to start the heat. “Where’s your car? Do you need a ride?” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too far, not wanting him to have gone out of his way to help.

He pointed across the street to a white truck.

Nodding, you smiled up at him. “How will I give you your hat back?”

His lips tipped up into an almost smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

[elegantlyeva]

wait genuinely how did i miss this? i’m screaming omg I feel my tears already i’m so excited

quiet reckoning. tom riddle

“don’t come back here.” it’s a goodbye.

so you don’t. you tend the garden when the days are warm, work on the cottage when they're not. you grow to love winter. the calm, the stillness—the way nothing changes overnight. warmth lies dormant, hidden under the cold, yet nature still finds a way to make the quiet beautiful.

this, you think, reminds you of tom.

quiet reckoning; the reflection that happens in solitude. a subdued, internal process of facing some hard fucking truths.

prologue • does this make me dangerous?

yes, the prologue to this story is in fact a kinktober fic. how i decided to turn this into something more came entirely from you guys, so thank you for the passion you awakened within me to write this.

chapter one • i’m happy for you.

mattheo comes to visit sometimes, wandering into the quiet when your absence grows too thick. when too many of his owls have gone unanswered.

“tell me something true.” you whisper as the midnight grog begins to set in. “tell me something that’ll warm me through winter.”

"i’ve loved you most of my life." he mutters finally, into the top of your head. the words feel like a breath of summer, in a quiet, dark night. "that’s the kind of truth that could melt an iceberg."

chapter two. time has been good to you.

chapter three. i’m real.

a/n: a love letter to my childhood. devotion to the weapon inside me that is my yearning. tom, let me give you a happy ending, baby. mattheo, you had yours in beg for me (i’m sorry).

this will be updated regularly. just couldn’t wait to get it out 🤍

[elegantlyeva]

12 Days of December

December 2nd: Scott Miller x Reader: Snowy Encounter

December 4th: James Potter x Reader: Unfairly Balanced

December 6th: Spencer Reid x Reader: Hot Cocoa

December 8th: John B x Reader: Gingerbread and Sugar Cookies

December 10th: Sirius Black x Reader: Priceless

December: 12th: Steve Harringoton x Reader: Tragic Little Tree

December 14th: Peter Parker x Reader: Mistletoe

December 16th: Aaron Hotchner x Reader: Holiday Hunger

December 18th: Rafe Cameron x Reader: Snow Angel

December 20th: Tyler Owens x Reader: Lighting Up

December 22nd: JJ Maybank X Reader: Nutcracker

December 24th: Remus Lupin x Reader: Eve

I think i've written enough of the 12 to actually post this, but once December 2nd comes I'll start linking the blurbs here as I post so it's more organized <3

[elegantlyeva]

guys I have a few more asks to get through, but I wanna do a twelve days of Christmas fics so if anyone has wintery/christmas requests and with which character please please please share <3 

(ex; Ice skating/character or hot cocoa/character or however specific you wanna get really) 

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! I was wondering If you'd be up for writing shy reader with Remus and him being just as flustered over her? Thank you!!

Out Of Order

 a/n: Thank you for requesting this was cute! <3

Word count: 0.5k

Remus heard the bell ring at the shop but paid no mind, really. He was assigned to the register, but the day was slow, and everyone who had come in so far had left without a book. 

The customer who walked in didn’t seem to need help. No one interrupted him, so Remus was deep into his book, slouched over the counter, when he heard someone shuffle, as if trying to make noise.

Then he heard a voice, “Hi.”

The sound of it alone caused him to freeze as he looked up. He blinked quickly, adjusting the reading glasses resting on his nose. The smile the stranger gave him made him clear his throat, sit up straight, and ditch the glasses altogether.

“Sorry. Sorry, uh, yeah?”

The smile you gave him made his cheeks flush, but he blamed it on the heater being right next to him.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… I wanted to buy this,” you said, holding the book out to him. “I’m half convinced I should buy whatever book you’re reading. You didn’t notice I was here for like four minutes.” It was a joke, he thought, but he forgot to laugh, his eyes fixated on you as if trying to memorize your face.

You mistook his staring for judgment and cleared your throat. “I was just—”

He cut you off.

“Sorry, sorry! I swear I’m usually better at my job. Yeah, the book’s uh, good. I honestly think I just zoned out,” he said sheepishly. “But sure, I can ring this up for you.” He cringed at himself. “Obviously. That’s why you came up to me.”

You relaxed, realizing he was probably just a bit socially awkward—almost more than you.

You realized you should probably say something, but there was too long of a pause to continue, so you asked something else, “You like working here, then?”

Remus let out a breath, glad to move on. “Yeah, it’s nice. I don’t really have to do much. You’re the first person who’s actually bought something today,” he said, scanning the book’s barcode. The book you chose was part of a series Remus had read out of order. “The fourth book is horrible.”

You raised a brow. “You’ve read it?” The cover was purple, and you were surprised. He didn’t look like someone who would read it, but maybe that was just stereotypical. He looked smart, and his hair looked soft, and he smelled good, and—

“Well, not that one exactly. But the fourth book, yes.” He laughed a little. “Actually, now that I think about it, I might’ve only thought it was so bad because I had no idea what was going on without reading the first three.”

He watched you huff a little, a breathless laugh. “Yeah, that’s probably it,” you said, your voice soft, and he leaned in a bit to hear it, wanting to soak it up.

“You can let me know how it goes, then.” He felt his cheeks burn at the implication. “If you come back to buy the second one, I mean.”

He noticed the slight pink tinge to the apples of your cheeks, and he felt slightly better. He passed the bag to you, shuddering slightly when he felt your fingertips brush his.

You nodded, looking flustered. “Sure.” With that, you quickly exited the store, a grin on your face and ears tipped red.

[elegantlyeva]

Hey! I loved the story! Thank you so much! I hope it isn’t too soon to request again and if it is please ignore! I was wondering what those days in the hospital was like with Scott? How did he get hurt? Did he not like (actually loved it) having her fuss over him? Don’t worry about not getting to it right away. I truly just appreciate you even giving it a thought! Thank you!

A while 

a/n: Thank for the request bb <3 This is like weeks overdue, but I’m finally done with midterms so to the others who requested I'm getting through everything right now!

Word Count: 1.1K

The hospital smell flooded your senses as you walked through the doors. 

The call you got from Kate, of all people, was not something you expected. You liked the girl, sure. She was nice and had separated you and your boyfriend. It was weird having her call your phone, though. You hadn’t even been sure she had your number.

She barely got five words out before you hung up and started to drive.

Apparently, Javi and Scott had gotten into a little mishap after underestimating how close the tornado was going to get.

You packed Scott a bag, knowing he was a bit germ-crazy, adding some clothes, his toothbrush, and some other night things, assuming he’d have to stay the night.

Maybe it was a little premature. You knew he had been taken in the ambulance—Kate had said he was conscious but also looking concussed. Still, even if he wasn’t staying the night, he’d probably want to change.

Walking through the hospital hallway after lying to the secretary about being Scott’s wife—since only family was allowed—you popped your head into Javi’s room next door. Tyler and Kate were sitting in the visiting chairs.

Tyler smiled, waving you over, but you shook your head. “Sorry. I’ll come back. I’m going to check on Scott. Just wanted to make sure Javi was fine.”

Javi laughed, knowing damn well you weren’t coming back after seeing Scott.

His door was closed, so you knocked softly, but there was no answer. Assuming he was asleep, you opened the door anyway and headed in.

The sound of voices filled the room, and you mentally face-palmed when you heard Scott arguing.

“I’m fine. Get this shit off me.” Heading fully inside, you saw that the "thing" he wanted off was an arm cast. No one had seen you yet.

“Sir, we’re trying to set your arm back in place. If you don’t have the cast, you’ll move it too much. The bones will heal on their own, but they need support, and if you’re moving it and banging it into things, it’s never going to heal.” You could hear the doctor’s exasperated voice, so you cleared your throat and made your way over.

The frustrated expression on Scott’s face softened when he saw you but didn’t disappear. He let the corners of his mouth tip up and moved out his good arm to beckon you over. With no objections, you quickly made it to his side, hugging him awkwardly so as not to hurt his bad arm. 

“What took you so long?” There was a bit of a whine in his voice, not that he’d ever admit it.

“What do you mean, what took me so long? Kate was the one who called me!” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“My phone got crushed. And I would’ve called you myself from Javi’s phone, but these doctors are insistent on me not using my arms,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the poor nurse.

“Arm, sir. One. The other is alright. I mean, you should take it easy. You still have a couple of bruises, but you’re fine overall.” Scott scowled, letting his head fall on your abdomen while the nurse left with a sigh.

You smiled softly as he moved over so you could sit on the bed next to him. “I told the secretary we were married,” you said, assuming it would get a smile out of him.

And it did. “Yeah? Where’s the ring?” he asked, picking up your hand.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, and he rolled his eyes, putting an arm around your shoulder to bring your head to rest on his chest. “Give me a few months.”

You had only been teasing anyway. “So, why are you giving these poor nurses trouble for doing their jobs?”

“I need both my arms. Both. How am I supposed to get anything done with only one? I’ll be half as fast and more of a liability than anything, and—” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, and he sighed softly.

When you pulled away, you looked at his food tray before actually speaking up. “You okay? It’s not the best news to get when you’re driving home from work, hearing your boyfriend is being taken to the hospital.”

Scott groaned, letting his head fall back onto the bed. “I’m fine, really. Don’t sweat it. It was a stupid miscalculation. All of this could’ve easily been avoidable if we hadn’t been moving so slow. Javi said we had more time. I thought we had more time.”

You didn’t say anything right away, knowing he needed to take a few breaths when he got like this. “I’m fine, though. Sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. I swear I would’ve called, but my phone got crushed with the back of the truck.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry. I was only messing around earlier. I’m glad you’re okay.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and shook his head. “A sweatshirt would be great. S’fucking cold in here,” he mumbled, and your ears perked up.

“I brought you a bag. That’s what took me so long,” you said excitedly, happy you could give him that. He squeezed your waist with his good hand.

“This is why I love you,” he mumbled into your hair. You side-eyed him a bit.

“That’s it?” you asked, and he rolled his eyes, holding out his hand for the sweatshirt and toothbrush. You snorted, handing him both, and after a struggle to get the sweatshirt over his head and helping him to the bathroom despite his dizziness, he settled himself against the hospital bed.

“I took off from work,” you mumbled, letting your hand brush through his dark hair. He glared at your words.

“Why would you do that? I’m fine,” he grumbled, attempting to roll his eyes, but it worsened the pounding in his head. You laughed, mumbling something about karma, and he pinched your side.

“We can just stay home for a couple days. I don’t trust you to actually stay home without anyone watching you.” He went to protest but was cut off when you gave him a disapproving look.

“Fine,” he said, looking like he was going to say more but glaring at something behind you. “What do you want, Owens?” You turned around to find Tyler leaning on the doorway.

“Relax. I’m not here for you. Your girlfriend said she’d come back to hang out with us in Javi’s room once she was done checking on you,” he said, smirking at Scott’s scowl.

“She will not be hanging out anywhere near you. She’ll get a worse headache than mine if she’s around your obnoxious ass.”

You rolled your eyes. This would go on for a while.

[elegantlyeva]

I loved the morning story with Scott Miller! Could we possibly see the night before when he made dinner for them? I think that would be super sweet. The dynamic between the two is adorable!

Dinner

a/n: Sorry it took a few days, thank you for requesting lovely <3 

Word Count: 0.8k

Scott knew you’d be tired from your day at work. He got home early—his uncle sent him off after it was a dead day, no tornadoes to be analyzed. While he should, morally, be happy about that, it frustrated him to no end to be set back from work a day because the planet decided to be civil.

Scott felt restless for the first hour. What was he supposed to do? His paperwork was done, you weren’t home, his friends were off somewhere being obnoxious in a bar, and he’d rather not join. Plus, there was genuinely nothing to do for work except wait.

He flinched when the cat you picked up from the streets purred at his leg, but the impulse to kick it was lessening day by day. (You promised Scott it would only be for a few days, but it’s been two weeks.) He was by no means inclined to pet the thing, but he could admit it was cute. Kind of.

He sighed, grabbing the tuna pack you bought and opening it with a grimace at the smell. He placed it down in the small bowl that was now set aside for the “temporary” cat.

After pacing about the house and fixing things that didn’t need to be fixed, he figured if he was going to be home, doing nothing since you were gone, he might as well make dinner.

You could hardly cook, or maybe you just pretended not to because you liked it when he did—Scott couldn’t tell half the time. Still, he couldn’t find a reason not to make dinner. You would both be home for once, and while ordering takeout was appealing, you two had already done that three days in a row.

A couple of hours later, Scott was letting the food cool off when he heard the front door opening and a rather loud bump. When he got there, you were on the floor, looking sheepish.

He stared, a little exasperated, hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “You’re wearing sneakers and there’s nothing around to trip over,” he grumbled, grabbing your waist to haul you up like you weighed nothing.

The grumbling didn’t faze you, and you shrugged. “You underestimate how easy it is to trip on air,” you said, hugging his torso since he already had his arms wrapped around your waist.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head with an eye roll. “Right.” it came out dry.

The smell of the food practically levitated you from the front door to the kitchen, and you smiled at him fondly when he trailed after you.

“You cooked.” you teased, but the way you said it made it sound more sickly sweet. He made you your favorite.

“I did,” he said, shrugging a little embarrassed. “I figured you should eat something with actual nutritional value instead of Chinese or pizza again.”

You sat at the counter (he set two places) eagerly and went to try a spoonful, and half moaned at the taste, but your eye caught something that made you grin.

His eyes narrowed when he saw you beam. “What?” he asked roughly, trying to mask his insecurity, thinking the smile was over the food tasting bad.

You lifted your chin toward the direction of the half-eaten food in the cat’s bowl. “You fed him,” you noted, doing your best not to laugh or he’d get that angry look between his eyebrows for the rest of the night.

“It looked hungry,” Scott defended. “Plus, you already bought all that tuna. We need to get rid of it one way or another.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

Scott sighed, not having it in him to scowl when you looked so happy. “Whatever.”

You got up from your seat at the counter and moved to stand behind him on his own chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing a kiss behind his ear, grinning when you felt him relax. “You’re awfully tense for someone who’s been home all day.”

“It’s awful. I’m not even sick. It was such a waste,” he said, the words laced with such scorn that it caused you to snort.

“Most people would be happy to get a day off and still get paid.”

“It would’ve been better if you called out.”

You hummed, taking a hand to brush through his hair. “I took one too many sick days already,” causing Scott to redden. You had taken them after Scott had gotten particularly roughed up after following a storm, Javi having miscalculated how much time he actually had before it would hit the truck.

Scott moved to protest, wanting to say it wasn’t his fault and that he had told you to go to work—he would've been fine in the hospital alone—but you cut him off, pressing your mouth to his to quiet him.

He sighed into the kiss, the words dying on his lips. Until he pulled away to ask, “Well?” You gave him a quizzical look, and he huffed. “The food. Do you like it?”

She rolls her eyes with no real heat, “You could be a house boyfriend” and she meant it. The food was good.

[elegantlyeva]

I’m begging for Rafe angst pleaseeeeeee

Should've Listened

a/n: hi bb, sorry it's a few days late. Thank you for the request!

Warnings: Rafe, Murder, Kidnapping

Word Count: 1.1K 

You’re new. Kind of. You had just moved to the Outer Banks in September, and once Rafe met you, he made sure to silence anyone who tried to bring up Peterkin. Which, albeit, wasn’t easy, but after a couple of punches and a few hundred dollar bills, he was able to keep you oblivious to most of the things he got up to in his free time. Until now.

“I told you. I—I fucking told you to stay home. But you just don’t know when to quit, huh?” he mocked, taking tantalizingly small steps towards you. Your heart must’ve been setting world records with how fast it was beating.

“Rafe…I didn’t—” you inhale a shaky breath, stepping back from him. “I didn’t see anything, Rafe.”

He let out a laugh, an evil-sounding thing. “See, I’d love to believe you,” he drawled. “But unfortunately, the scream you let out could’ve been heard down the block.” You back up a bit more until you physically can’t.

He shakes his head. “I really wish you just stayed home, sweetheart,” he says, coming up to where you’ve backed yourself against the tree, raising a hand to cup your cheek. The action makes you whimper, from fear or longing—you didn’t know.

Rafe hadn’t been around the past couple of days; he was helping some sick little old lady. He let you meet her once a few days prior, then told you that you weren’t allowed to be with her alone, and if she ever tried to contact you, you needed to tell him. Limbrey, her name was. She was nice, a little airy in your opinion, but she made really delicious cookies.

When you left your house an hour ago, it was with the intention of helping your boyfriend relax. Your bag was filled with self-care products, face ones that he’d let you put on him if you really begged. You had your pajamas in it too, assuming you’d get up to some activities later and be too tired to go home.

In hindsight, he did tell you he was busy with work tonight. But in your defense, you thought he meant paperwork or phone calls for his dad. Not whatever this was.

Yet here you were, sandwiched between Rafe and a tree, all because your too-curious eyes peeked into the back of his (open) truck.

“Who, uh, who was he?” you ask, eyes darting around, planning an escape.

Rafe, as if reading your mind, wraps a tight hand around your bicep, smirking a little when he feels your body relax under his touch (despite you not wanting it to). “You run, you become a liability,” he starts. “And, baby, I really hate loose ends.”

“I wasn’t gonna—”

“You really wanna keep lying?”

Saying nothing, you shake your head in defeat.

Rafe sighs. “Don’t worry about the guy. He was an idiot.”

Your breath hitches. “You’re the one who killed him?”

“Fuck off,” he says, rolling his eyes at your wary look. “No, I didn’t kill him.” Sighing, like explaining this all to you was an inconvenience—and perhaps it was. “He pissed off the wrong woman,” he says, looking at you pointedly.

You were dumb to think Rafe was actually interested in helping innocent old ladies. “Limbrey killed him?”

“You didn’t find it weird I told you to stay away from her?”

“No?” The confusion in your voice makes him snort.

“Course not. You just listen blindly, right? Until it actually fucking matters.” He curses. “You should’ve stayed home.”

“Why do you have the body, then?” You really wish you had just stayed home and finished watching Gossip Girl.

He was just working so much lately, and you missed him.

Rafe scoffs. “That shit was an accident. I would’ve left it with her, but I needed the rest of what’s in there.” Pointing back towards the truck, your curiosity gets the better of you once more, and you move your head to focus behind him.

Rafe tightens the grip on your arm until you can feel a bruise forming. “Watch it. I think you’ve seen enough today,” he says, starting to drag you toward Tannyhill, your panic rising.

“Rafe, please, please. I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” you beg, scrambling to get away, but his grip on you is too tight.

“Why exactly do you think I’m bringing you inside?”

The question catches you off guard. He’s going to make you say it? What a cruel thing to do.

“To kill me?”

Rafe sighs. “I’m not a murderer,” though you’re starting to believe him less and less.

“You’re not gonna kill me?” you ask, just to clarify, and the vulnerability in your voice makes him soften.

“Course not, baby.” He presses a kiss to your temple, quickly.

You relax a little. “Why, uh, why are we going inside, then?”

Rafe shakes his head. “As much as I’d love to think you really aren’t going to tell anyone about what you saw,” you try to cut him off, but he continues, “I don’t. So unfortunately for you, we’re going on a trip in the morning.”

You shake your head, breath quickening. “Rafe, what? I can't just get up and leave. I have a family. Not to mention, I’m supposed to be going out with my friends tomorrow.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you mentally facepalm. What a dumb thing to be worried about. “You can’t keep me here.”

He nods. “You’re right, I can’t keep you here. They’ll come looking. Hence the trip. C’mon, don't be dumb.”

“Trip where?”

“You’ll figure it out once we’re there. Now come on, like you said, you’ve got friends and family, so it’s time to write them a letter,” he says, shoving you past the front door.

You think you hear Sarah in another room with Rose, but you’re not sure. “You’re gonna tell them you ran away, and to not come looking for you because you want to try life on your own.”

You scoff. “They aren’t going to believe that.”

Rafe shrugs. “Well, for their sakes, you better hope they do.” The way he says it sounds like a threat.

“And if I don’t wanna come?”

He smiles sinisterly. “Oh, sweetheart. It wasn’t a choice.” 

[elegantlyeva]

I loved your last Scott fic and was wondering if you could do something with just him and fluffiness for his girl? (Or as fluffy as he can get)

Burned Breakfast

a/n: Thank you for the request babe! i assumed you met established relationship fluff but if you meant for the pining stages lmk!!

Word Count: 0.6K

The sunlight from the early morning peeks through the blinds, the curtains wide open. One of you forgot to close the blinds, and considering you were the one woken up by the sun’s intrusion, you blame Scott.

Scott, the peaceful man soundly asleep next to you, small snores leaving his lips, despite how many times he’s rejected the idea that he snores.

Early mornings, ones right after a night in with you, were the only times he looked truly at peace. No complaints from any of his co-workers, no gum in his mouth to fidget with and no one but you to irritate him, though he enjoys you.

He had been extra nice yesterday, making dinner for the pair of you after he got home from a particularly good day with Storm Par. So, considering you were up, you thought to return the favor, slipping on your slippers and peeling Scott’s arm that lay heavily on your waist.

He moved a bit, his brows furrowing in agitation, even in sleep, when he doesn’t get his way. Eventually, he relaxes again, and you make your way out of his bedroom.

It wasn’t even half an hour before Scott started to stir, his hand reaching out to grab you, but met with your side of his bed, cold.

Scott sits up abruptly, opening his eyes in a frenzy. You never got up before him. Did you leave in the middle of the night? Had he done something wrong?

The man was contemplating his entire life when he heard a pan fall from the kitchen.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up to follow the noise quickly. He was met with his panicked-looking girlfriend running a hand under the sink.

Scott scowls at the sight, scurrying over to you to inspect the damage.

“What the fuck were you trying to do?” he asked incredulously, kissing your cheek in lieu of a good morning.

“Cooking you breakfast,” you frown, moving your hand to motion around the mess you made in the kitchen. “Pancakes and bacon!”

Scott shook his head, laughing slightly. “Oh really?” he asks, moving to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, pushing your burned hand back under the running water when you move it away. “And how’s that working out for you?”

You narrow your eyes playfully, “You can’t be mean. I’m injured,” you say rather dramatically.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, you did that to yourself.” But he moves to the fridge to collect the burn cream he kept there after a nasty incident he had a couple of months back.

He turns off the water for you and snatches your hand towards him so he can apply the cream. “Why were you trying to make me breakfast anyway? Not that I don’t appreciate it.” He raises a brow, and you smile sheepishly.

“I wanted to do something for you.”

“That’s sweet ‘n all, babe, but I promise I’m happy with waking up to you in my bed,” he says, blowing on your burned hand when you wince. “The cream won’t stop the pain, but it’s refreshing, and if you keep applying it, the burn won’t scar.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly, cheeks tinged pink at his words.

“Alright, no offense, but I'm not sure how much I trust this pancake batch,” he starts, staring judgmentally at the (burned) batch you made. You start to protest, but he cuts you off. “It’s fucking early. How about we go back to sleep for another hour, and when we wake up, I'll take you out to the diner?”

The argument dies on your tongue, and you nod, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on, then. I’ve been dying to get back to bed the second the opened curtains that someone forgot to close last night woke me up.”

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he pushes you back into the room, gently. “Thought you wanted to be nice?”

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! I saw that you were taking request for Harry Potter characters and I was wondering if you would do something with James potter and hufflepuff reader? Maybe he sneaks into her dorm after a tough day and she just comforts him? Thank you!!

Sour Mood, Sweet bed

a/n: thank you for the request honey I loved writing this! For the sake of the fic we’re gonna pretend the boys could get into the girls dormitories

Photos are from Pinterest!

Word count: 510

James was trudging through the castle halls after curfew with his head down and hands in his pockets, his usual golden retriever aura dampened after the day he had. He had woken up late and opted to skip breakfast so he would be on time to class, but he ended up arriving five minutes late and got a mouthful from the professor.

The rest of his classes went relatively smoothly, but almost all of them decided to assign essays due around the same time. Then, when he really just wanted to blow off some steam by going out to the field, his Quidditch practice had been pushed back to the next day.

And to add to all that, you had been talking to some sleazy boy from your house. James couldn't recall the name of the boy, but he could hear your laughter from the Gryffindor table, and that alone was enough to make him frown.

Worst of all, you didn’t seem to notice James’ sour mood all day. Sure, you waved to him in the hallway in passing, but it was hardly enough attention in his opinion.

Now, hours later, James had snuck out of his own dorm in favor of visiting yours. He saw some first-year Hufflepuffs in the common room who knew well enough not to snitch on him unless they wanted to end up with itching powder in their beds.

He knocked on your door softly, three taps of his knuckles in a pattern that only you would recognize. He hoped you’d answer the door and not one of your roommates.

And despite James’ bad luck earlier in the day, you are the one to open the door.

“Jamie?” you whisper, rubbing an eye as his figure becomes clearer.

The boy nods, and the pout he’d had for most of the day lessens at the nickname. He gently pushes your hips back so he can slip into your room. “Missed you,” he says, climbing into your bed. You’re still half asleep and a little confused by the (welcomed) intrusion. You turn around, shrugging to yourself and going back to bed.

You snuggle up next to him, letting your head rest on his chest. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but you two make it work. Your eyes quickly dart to your sleeping friends, and once confirming they are still asleep, you ask, 

“Are you okay?” Your tone is warm like a cozy blanket, and it causes James to sigh.

“Rough day,” he mumbles, shifting himself so he’s the one on top of you. He rests his head on your chest and keeps nudging you until you put a hand in his hair to massage his scalp. “It must be karma for tricking Sirius into dyeing his hair.”

You smile fondly before pressing a kiss to his left cheek and wrapping your arms tighter around him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

James shakes his head ‘no’ and takes one of your hands to squeeze it gently.

“This is enough.”

[elegantlyeva]

Stupid Girl (fondly)

not really sure what this is, but the scott rot was real after watching twisters

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Scotts an asshole but he secretly cares (?)

Scott was irritated, although that wasn’t saying much, considering he usually was. The heat and lack of data they’d collected due to Javi following Kate around had him more on edge than usual. It didn’t help that you had been ignoring him.

There’s no way he would ever admit to the fact, but he missed you. He knew he’d messed up earlier, and you were usually more forgiving of his moods, but the heat seemed to have you on edge too.

Thinking about it now, you’re surprised the two of you hadn’t gotten into such a fight before this, considering the difference in your jobs. Scott profited off the tornado victims, and you offered your services for free.

During the calmer seasons, you worked as a nurse in a nearby clinic, and during tornado season, you normally frequented the towns with the most wreckage and helped the victims in any way you could.

Scott and you had met in a similar way, actually. He had been in one of the town’s aftermaths to help his uncle with marketing for Storm Par when he saw you. You were treating a small scrape on a kid no older than 10. Scott had rolled his eyes when he saw the kid’s tears. It was a scrape, and here you were doting on him like it was a gash. Once the kid had run off to find his mother, Scott approached you. Once he got closer, he noted you were… pretty. Not that he cared, obviously.

“He was fine,” Scott scoffed, almost annoyed.

You had been confused at first, mumbling, “Sorry?” as you stood to brush yourself off from where you had been crouching next to the boy.

“He’s gonna complain about a paper cut if he gets coddled like that,” he smacked his gum.

“He’s a kid. Plus, paper cuts hurt,” you countered, raising your head to look at him.

And not to be dramatic, but he was gorgeous. Maybe that’s why you ignored the obvious asshole demeanor he had.

Scott rolled his eyes. “He’s a wuss,” and he fought a smile at the offended look you had at his words.

You glared at him and almost argued, but decided he wasn’t worth your time. No matter how gorgeous.

Scott, unfortunately for him, could not say the same.  

“I’m Scott,” he said, even reaching out his hand. Not because he wanted to feel your hand or anything; he was doing it to be polite. At least, that’s what he told himself.

You rolled your eyes, but it was more lighthearted than anything, and told him your name, reaching out your own hand to shake his.

He was disturbed with himself for feeling so shocked at the contact. Your hand was so soft, and it made him want to pull you closer.

An intrusive thought. A vile intrusive thought that he blamed you for internally. You were trying to distract him with your pretty looks and soft hands. Well, Scott was stronger than that, so he vowed to himself he wouldn’t speak to you again.

That vow lasted about a week.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had been at almost every single one of the tornado aftermaths, and he had been dragged by Javi to two of them and by his uncle to one. And every single time, he found himself gravitating toward you to start a conversation.

You’d been less interested when he first approached you, wondering why you were in the town at all, especially since you weren’t getting paid.

He shut up soon after realizing how repulsed you seemed to be by the question.

By the second time, he knew to steer clear of certain topics and asked you more friendly questions, like where you grew up and why you were a nurse in the first place.

He figured out many things about you by the fourth time he’d seen you, and by the fifth, you had warmed up to him.

You learned he was smart. And not just in science and tornados. He was actually pretty well-rounded, just maybe not in social situations.

You learned he was cocky about almost everything: his education, wealth, success, and looks. Though, after having met his uncle, it made sense. The trait ran in the family, apparently.

You learned Scott was more fun than you originally thought. Maybe fun was an exaggeration, but he was certainly more.

Now, it’s been three weeks since you first met, and you’ve been ignoring him due to an impassive comment he made. How could you blame him? Nothing had been going according to plan, and Storm Par had hardly collected enough evidence since Kate and the YouTubers were in town.

So maybe telling you he found your job pointless wasn’t the smartest thing to do. What he had been trying to say was you should just stay at your clinic to help people from there. He thought it was pointless that you weren’t benefiting from helping them right at the scene.

You hadn’t liked that at all and called him an asshole right before retreating back to your medical tent that was set up.

Scott rolled his eyes, figuring you’d be over it in ten minutes, but then it became twenty, and thirty, and after an hour, Scott had to leave with Javi to follow up a storm. Hopefully getting there before Tyler and Kate.

It was all fine until Javi wanted to go follow Kate to the town the tornado was headed towards. Scott was upset. Of course, Javi wanted to go help them. It made his eye twitch; they needed the data.

He says the words of not caring about the victims before he can stop himself. He winces internally, and Javi looks at him horrified. However, Scott hadn’t planned on taking it back until,

“Your girlfriend is out there,” Javi pointed out, desperate to get through to him.

You were not his girlfriend. But Scott knew what he meant and fought the urge to hit the dashboard in frustration.

He cursed under his breath. “Well? Are you waiting for a green light? Fucking drive,” he grumbled, but the worry swelling in his chest was real.

The rest happened ten times as fast. The movie theater had been split in half, a couple dozen people taken by it, and Kate was somewhere in Tyler’s truck on a suicide mission, at least that’s what he heard later. He wasn’t there. No, after the tornado had stopped, even before it did, really, Scott was a frantic mess looking for you between the crowds.

You weren’t at the theater, nor at the gas station, and hadn’t been in any of the nearby stores. Scott’s heart sunk, and he was almost going to face the possibility that you might be dead. Almost.

As he was jogging up a block in search of you, he saw a small, crushed little shed. He was surprised the majority of it was still there, even though it had fully collapsed. That’s when he saw a hand. Not just any hand—your hand. He knew from staring at it long enough.

He rushed over in a panicky breath and called your name a few times before lifting some of the wood off you.

You groaned when you felt the weight being taken off you and felt dried blood near your temple.

“Scott?” you mumbled warily.

He let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. S’me.” Then, more firmly, “The fuck were you thinking, huh? You know better than to stay in a little shack. You’re damn lucky you didn’t get swept up.”

You smiled softly at his scolding. “I was helping a dog.” As if on cue, the puppy that was curled in your chest during the storm barked.

Scott glared, unamused. “You could’ve died,” he said bluntly, grabbing you by the arms softly, whispering apologies at your whimpers. He got you out of the destroyed shed (the dog too) and pulled you in for a hug. More for him than you. “I thought you died,” he stressed, quieter this time.

“You’d miss me,” you teased in a light voice, though the laughing made your ribs hurt.

He rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer. “Stupid girl,” but the fondness in his voice wasn’t something he could hide.