Prompt: I'm addicted to owenxreader stories right now they give me life. Single mom Y/n brings her daughter to work at the park and she gets lost. Y/n finds her sitting on the catwalk of the raptor pen next to Owen asking him a million and one questions about the raptors. Owen being super sweet and patient with her and telling her a "secret" that he thinks her mom is pretty.
Requested by: I-have-loved-a-thousand-lives on tumblr
A/N: Okay so- I haven't written anything in a while, so I apologize if this seems rusty. BUT I LOVE OWEN GRADY.
~~
Don't panic- you tell yourself. She's fourteen. She can handle herself.
Your daughter may be small- but she definitely knows better than to try and weasel her way into the raptor pen. No, you think, she probably just wondered off and found some sort of interesting plant and took a look. Nothing to worry about.
But you are worried. Dozens of people have died on this island from simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Children- no older than your daughter- have been traumatized and sent to one too many therapists after their encounters here. So why did you, (y/n), think it was okay to bring your fourteen year old to work?!
It was one of those hindsight being 20/20 things, you supposed as you left your station and began your trek around the raptor paddock. You hoped and prayed she hadn't gone off too far, and if she had there would be some serious grounding when you both got home.
You slide through the first few quadrants of the holding tanks rather quickly- seeing nothing but leftover footprints in the soft dirt. You search the small raptor control room- no one but the usual guards there, snacking on bags of Cheetos and coca cola.
It then that you really begin panicking.
"Does anyone have a 20 on a fourteen year old girl?" You speak through your walkie-talkie, voice a little shakier than you would have liked it to have been.
"Comeback?" The sound of your friend Arch crackles through the brick in your hand.
"My daughter- smallish, fourteen, probably is pretending like she works here?"
"Ohh, she's on the catwalk."
"WHAT?!" You yell into the device, sprinting toward the main pen.
Arch comeback with an answer, but your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears, you don't bother to hear it. Really- the nonchalant tone of his voice should have told you that everything was okay, but you honestly just did not want your baby around the raptor squad. You barely agreed to let her in the cages while they were muzzled.
Now she was right above them, the pesky things could jump in redouble heights and even though Owen had assured you time and time again that they couldn't jump high enough to even graze the catwalk- you knew if they wanted it bad enough, life would find a way.
Nearly out of breath, you take the metal stairs two at a time. Work boots slamming into the material, making the staircase shiver and shake with hearty groans.
And when you finally reach the top, you see the two of them- your daughter and Mr. Grady- standing across the pen, looking down into the pit.
You had worked here long enough to know that just yelling out her name was not a good idea with four velociraptors directly below. Spooking them was one of the worst things you could do, and you're pretty sure Owen would chew you out for an hour afterward.
You walk toward them slowly, trying to slow the incessant beat of your heart, all the while regaining your breath.
"Mr. Grady," you say, coming up behind them, "I believe you have found my daughter."
You smile, but with no sincerity. It was one thing to have to track down your missing rugrat- and a complete other having to come and talk to Owen Grady.
Owen Grady, the man that drove you insane on a daily basis. His drive for the job and the attention he brought when he took care of his raptors were qualities that you admired greatly. He was kind to all, except when kindness was out of the question- and he was tough and sincere and protective.
Everything your ex was not.
It was no question that you'd established a wonderful little crush on him, but that was as far as you'd allowed it to wander. No need in ruining a perfectly good work relationship.
"This is your daughter?" Owen asks, eyes widening as he looks over to the girl, "From the way she talks about raptors, I'm surprised she doesn't work here."
He elbows her in the side, making your protective mother-ness flare up. The last thing anyone needed was for someone to fall into the cage.
But you sense something else in his teasing, and see that your daughter had tried to trick him into thinking she was the new help.
"Alright, come on miss paleontologist. My shift's almost over, and you are cooking dinner," you give her a pointed look, letting her know that she shouldn't have run off. She hated cooking dinner.
"Aww mom! We were just getting to Blue-"
"Yeah mom," Owen says, eyes lighting in a way that you knew meant he was about to talk about his pride and joy.
"Okay- you've got five minutes," you tell Owen, and you relish in the way he brightens at your words.
You had heard the "Blue is the Beta, I am the Alpha" spiel so many times by now you could almost quote him word for word.
You walk back down the catwalk, to the stairs where you sat down, to turn around and watch your daughter. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't like seeing the pair of them getting along. It was something you had secretly hoped for in all of those little fantasies you may or may not have had about the former Navy man.
He's talking animatedly with his hands, something he tended to do while excited about his subject, and he always seemed to enjoy telling kids about his raptors more than anyone else.
Oh he was wonderful- he was making your girl smile and laugh and that was something you found irresistible.
Glancing at your watch, completely positive that five minutes had come and gone, you call for your daughter.
"Come on, we've gotta go," you smile, looking to Owen, "Thanks Mr. Grady."
"Not a problem (y/f/n)," he smiles back, "You should bring her to work more often- she's her mothers daughter."
With a goodbye from your girl, and a promise to return soon, you herd her forward to the staircase.
You hear Owen calling down to his squad, telling them to focus their eyes on him. As your just out of earshot, your daughter pipes up.
"Thanks a lot mom."
Her tone was not sincere, but full of that sarcasm her father seemed to bestow upon her.
"I spent the last half hour flirting my butt off and you just waltz up in there and Owen starts telling me that he's got this huge secret that he thinks your gorgeous."
You can't help the blush that rises to your cheeks.
