Thanks (Beckett Harrington x Reader)

You hissed as Beckett dabbed the cut on your shoulder with an alcohol wipe, the stinging sensation leaving you to grip the counter you were sitting on even harder.

“You’re an idiot.” The boy deadpanned, his eyes concentrated on your fresh wound. Earlier that night, you and your friends had been in the woods searching for another sophomore rave- but when you swore you saw your reflection in the flesh just a few meters ahead of you, you left for a mad dash towards what you didn’t know was a rocky slope.

Luckily you managed to get away with only a few bruises and cuts, but your inner circle had been pecking at you like a bunch of mother hens. Especially a certain Harrington.

“Running off in the dark forest, with unproper footwear no less!“ You both looked down at the 3 inch heels Shreya insisted you wore.

His larger hand gripped your upper arm gently, his close proximity leaving goosebumps on your arms. Beckett had been quick to attendto your minor injuries, worrying over the potential infections that could arise from the forest dirt ruffled all over your body. You watched his determined gaze, the slight furrow in his eyebrows as he carefully prodded you like you were a glass statue.

Of course he knew that you were a powerhouse, your magick capabilities exceeding his own. But after hearing you cry out after falling down the rugged path of rocks and roots activated a protective side in him, urging him to ease whatever pain you felt in any way possible. He had never felt more relief in his entire life when he saw that you stood up, mainly unharmed.

“Well doc, do you have any plants to make it look like I never fell down at the forest?” You teasingly poked Beckett’s shoulder with your other hand.

You’ve made out with the overachiever backing you up against a tree, yet you still felt butterflies at the sight of his blushing cheeks and pink ears. The two of you had left your relationship up in the air, an unspeakable elephant in the room every time you found yourselves alone.

“I’m no doctor,” Beckett clarified. You briefly imagined him in a white coat, and you didn’t think the visual was too absurd.

“But I do recall reading that toad droppings can be used as a topical treatment for open wounds. The fresher the droppings, the more instantaneous the healing process.” He looked up at you with a stoic gaze, meeting your wide eyes. You blinked twice. He seemed as serious as ever.

“Oh god, please don’t tell me I have to call for Tim.”

You stared at Beckett, waiting for him to confirm your fears before he suddenly bursted out in laughter. He let go of your arm to clutch at his stomach, his loud chuckles juxtaposing your silent confusion.

“I’ve fooled you! No, no, no toad droppings needed. Just some finely ground twisted milkweed will do the trick,” Beckett chortled. His bright grin called for you to mirror his own and- yup. You felt the butterflies.

“You’re a dork,” you exclaimed before elbowing his chest. “A cute dork.”

“What? You always-“ Beckett suddenly guffawed, his words caught in his throat as he blushed profusely. You gleamed at his flustered look, watching as he worked to distract himself with the task of opening a vial of herbs. Digging his finger into the cream-coloured powder, he refused to look you in the eye as he continued to treat your cut. “You never fail to catch me off guard with your teasing comments.”

Looking down at your arm, you watched as your skin mended over the gash with the addition of the twisted milkweed, a numbing feeling washing over the cut as it faded into a healing scar. You saw a small smile unfurl on Beckett’s face as the wound healed, but you were unsure if he was proud of his work or happy to see that your injury was gone.

“Hey, Beckett.” Your uncharacteristically quiet voice drew his attention towards you. He looked pulled back from your arm, standing across from you with his eyes furrowed in worry. The lighthearted air between you two had settled.

“Yes? Is-is your arm feeling okay?”

You nodded your head, a warm feeling bubbling in your core at his concern. “Totally. Don’t worry about that. I just,” you took a deep breath. “I know this- this thing, we have going on, still hasn’t been discussed on, but I just wanted to say… thanks. For opening up to me, and for caring about me.”

You quickly stood up, planting your lips on his flushed cheek before returning to your spot on the table. You felt your own face heat up, your eyes looking up at him from underneath your lashes.

“It’s- it’s no problem,” Beckett stuttered. He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting around the room before he ultimately aimed them at the floor. “Thanks for caring about me too.”

You didn’t know if your attunement was the reason why you felt as warm as you did, but you didn’t question it any further. Leaping up from the table, you gave Beckett one last shy smile before heading towards the door.

“C’mon, let’s meet with the others. We have a reflection to catch.”

One thought on “Thanks (Beckett Harrington x Reader)”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.