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maxlarens · 4 months

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Hi, I have a smau request for Charles (based on c.ai bot lol, and the fact that I love painting), so the reader is invited by her friends to a house for vacation, her friends are all with their s/o and they also always try to set up reader with someone, that's when her and Charles meet, and reader finally gives it a chance because she knows her friends won't stop to set her up. They talk for a whole evening about what they do in life (reader is an artist/painter) and they get along really well. Eventually they get together and reader is very liked by the public, even if there will always be haters, but most fans thinks she's just very adorable (especially because of her insta/twitter posts)

CL: slip up and i call you baby

pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader

summary: you love your friends, you really do. you just wish they’d stop trying so hard to set you up with random guys. [smau + written fic] (read on: ao3) (part 2)

fc: faceless

word count: 5.1k

warnings: mild sexual references

a/n: this is such a cute idea! thank u so much for sending it in!! u will not believe how much this idea gripped me like i never write one shots like this its just unheard of for me if im honest. anyway i know u asked for a smau so i will be doing a second part/continuation to this that is solely an smau to make up for that. (ALSO sorry for disappearing i was super sick for the whole week and have been getting my shit back together in the aftermath😭)

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ynusername italy we are in u!!!

Amalfi Coast, Italy

You’ve never been particularly boy crazy. At least not the same way your friends are.

There have been a few not-quite boyfriend’s over the years, but those relationships never last long. They never really get you, or they never really get the art thing. Which means, of course, that they don’t get you and never will— and that’s fine, you’re content with that. If living for your art means you’ll never be in love then so be it and frankly, good riddance to them.

For the most part, you’ve given up trying. You go on a few dates here and there, but you never let them stick around. Even the ones that seem interested in your paintings you don’t bother with— none of them really seem to be able to grasp what art truly is to you. It isn’t just paint on a canvas, it’s living, it’s breathing. You are only yourself with a way to make art.

It’s difficult to put into words.

So you don’t. Instead, you send texts that say ‘thanks for your time but this isn’t working out’ and you keep the men your friends try to set you up with at arm's length. You placate Chloe and her partner Rowan– who collects friends like they’re Pokémon– with, “he wasn’t my type” and “I’m not looking for a relationship right now”, which you suppose is true, but also isn’t the entirety of it. Yet, every time without fail, there’s a new boy at the scene of the crime.

Chloe doesn’t get it, none of your friends get it. You don’t try to explain it to them. So, y’know, here you are again.

Anyway, here’s the thing: they’re getting closer. Inexplicably, without knowing how you really feel about it all, Chloe and Rowan are getting better and better at picking the boys who are able to tempt you. Which is a pain really, because sometimes you’re trying to have a perfectly nice vacation in Italy without the lure of a boy you can’t let yourself have. But alas, these things generally don’t go your way.

You should know that by now.

Charles Leclerc is bang on the money, he really is. He is unbearably cute, like so cute that you have to leave the room when he walks in, because you don’t trust yourself to be in close proximity to him right now. You have a hard time looking at his face when you are forced to be around him. The dimples when he smiles, the squint of his eyes even when he isn’t. If you look too long you’re liable to stare and that wouldn’t lead to anything good at all.

He’s nice as well. So nice, just like Chloe told you. You try to pretend he doesn’t exist and he still asks you questions about your job and the area of Monaco you live in— like he’s even interested, like he’ll remember you two weeks from now. You try your best to be pleasant, to answer without it being like pulling teeth, and to ask questions of him as well. You’ll probably see him again after this, so best to not to go too far and act like you hate him. It’s difficult though, toeing the line between friendly and encouraging of more. Or it feels difficult for you. Charles doesn’t make even the slightest suggestion of the two of you being set up by your nosy friends. That’s unbearable too. Part of you wishes he’d just make a clumsy pass at you so you can rebuff it and make your intentions abundantly clear. But, obviously, he doesn’t, because he’s perfect or something.

It sucks. You hate him, you think.

Or you want to.

On the second day of the trip, you’re on the villa’s private beach, laying in the hot sun. Chloe, Anaïs and Bea are there; everyone else is either still sleeping off the wine from last night or swimming in the glittering ocean. You’ve got a secondhand book, a 2B pencil and a pair of sunglasses over your eyes. You’re trying to read but you just end up doodling, drawing your friends bikini-clad bodies over the text and shading grapes into the margins. Trying desperately not to accidentally put Charles Leclerc’s dimples, messy hair, or sloped nose to paper.

“So,” Chloe says conspiratorially, as you abort an attempt at drawing a slightly squinted eye with thick lashes, “What do you think of Charles?”

You raise an eyebrow carefully at her over your sunglasses, betraying nothing of your inner turmoil, “I think nothing.”

Anaïs laughs, rolling onto her back, “That’s such shit. You practically sprint away from him everytime he comes near.”

“I do not,” you answer too quickly.

Anaïs laughs again, louder. Chloe joins in and Bea raises her eyebrows at you like you’re a fucking liar. You frown, glaring a little before stubbornly turning your head back to your book. The conversation about Charles ends there, but unfortunately your actions have spoken for themselves. A chill of something like panic chitters up your spine and into your shoulders. You have to roll them to make the feeling go away.

As the sun climbs higher in the sky you lose some people to the heat and gain others. It’s just you and Chloe sweating onto your towels when Rowan and Charles finally give up on whatever game they were playing in the ocean. Rowan collapses unceremoniously into the space between you and Chloe, kicking up sand and getting water droplets all over you like he’s a wet dog. You let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and an exasperated groan as you roll away from him, landing in the sand.

“Watch it,” you cry, “You’re getting my book all wet.”

Rowan laughs, “You’re drawing in it!”

“So.”

He pulls a face at you that makes you roll your eyes; then he turns into Chloe, shoving his face into her collarbone and flinging limbs over her. You snort, leaning over to snag the book off your towel before it gets dragged into the mess that Rowan is causing. You’re about to get up and go inside until you realise Charles is still standing there. Has, in fact, been standing there since Rowan ran over. Your breath catches, heart skipping a beat as you look up to find him standing there.

“Hey,” you smile briefly at him, quickly looking away from his damp hair and bare chest (–which is difficult to do because, holy shit–) so you can gather up your towel.

“Hi,” he replies.

He might smile back. You don’t look. You’re trying to get the image of his washboard abs out of your head. This proves difficult when you clamber to your feet and find yourself face to face with him.

“Are you heading back?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

God, you want to kick yourself. You’re being so awkward, and right in front of Chloe too, who may not be watching but is absolutely listening to you make a fool of yourself in front of a guy you have very firmly said that you are not interested in. It must be clear to him too, that you’re trying very deliberately to not be interested in him. You cant tell what would be worse; if that means he’ll think you’re a weirdo or if it means he’ll take it as a sign that he should make some kind of move.

Ugh.

“I’ll come with you?”

“Hmm,” you blink yourself back into existence, seeing the questioning look on Charles’ face, “Yes, yeah. Sorry.”

You say goodbye to Chloe and Rowan who barely look away from one another, still rolling around in the sand like teenagers.

“Gross,” you say to Charles, as the two of you trudge through hot sand toward the sandstone steps that lead up to the villa.

He laughs, a breathy thing that tapers off with a sigh, “A bit, yes.”

You don’t say anything else, but you find yourself staring at his back and the way his muscles shift and move underneath his tanned skin. At the top of the stairs you part ways, he smiles at you and you offer something awkward in return, trying to pretend you hadn’t been looking at him. You don’t think he notices, but your cheeks red burn anyway.

You don’t see him watching you leave.

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chloegarelli hungover, sunkissed and lovesick

Amalfi Coast, Italy

Dinner is a huge affair, as it always is on these trips.

You, Anaïs and Chloe spend three hours in the kitchen that afternoon making chicken fricassée and about a hundred different side dishes to go with it. Everyone crowds around the dinner table to eat and drink even more wine than the night before. Piero Piccioni plays on the old record player, crackling away as you laugh and talk and tell stories with your friends well into the night. You watch the sun set through floor-to-ceiling glass windows and you wish wish wish that you had your paints right now.

You brought along a set of oil pastels and one of your art notebooks, but it doesn’t compare at all to painting. If you could get your hands on cadmium yellow in all it’s hues, maybe vermillion and a powder blue, your lack of paintbrush or canvas wouldn’t even matter. You’d use your fingers if you needed to. It bothers you so much that you get up in the middle of clearing away the meal and go to your room for the pastels and notebook. You need to get it on a page at least.

You push a few plates to the side, folding out your notebook and immediately marking the page up with a creamy white pastel. Bea teases you when she comes over to take the rest of the dirty dishes, but you just mumble something unintelligible, too engrossed with smudging the sunset into something that looks like what you’d seen out the window. When the oranges and yellows blend to your satisfaction you take the black and brown and draw in the top of your friends’ heads, not thinking about how much attention to detail you’re paying to the shape of Charles’ side profile.

When you’re finished, you’re surprised to see that the table is cleared save for a few half-full wine glasses and a fresh bottle. Only Chloe, Rowan and Charles are still sitting by you. You’re listening to another Piero Piccioni album now, or maybe just the other side of the record. You remember saying goodnight to the others and saying yes to a glass of wine, so you’ve not been totally dead to the world, but it’s all in a bit of a haze.

You think this might be part of the reason why you can’t hold down a boyfriend. The disappearing into your art like you cant breathe until it’s finished. That may as well be the case if you’re honest.

You sigh, wiping your stained fingers on the next blank page, then you take a long sip from your glass of merlot, pretending you dont notice the others’ eyes on you.

“All done?” Chloe quips, somewhere on the border of teasing and being annoyed at you.

You look at her, your eyes just narrowing enough for her to notice. She does and purses her lips. You raise an eyebrow to ask okay, what’s your fucking problem? And you see her eyes flash to Charles. You follow her gaze to see him and Rowan pretending to look disinterested in your answer. Charles is tracing the base of his wine glass and absently biting the inside of his mouth. You have to tear your eyes away.

“All done,” you answer, tone clipped, before gathering your things (including the wine glass) and leaving the room in a move you hope doesn’t come off as too rude.

At your back you hear Rowan ask Chloe, “What was that?”

Chloe means well, you think as you wind through the villa, making your way to the balcony overlooking the private beach. She wants you to be happy and she thinks you need a boyfriend to be happy. But she’d found the love of her life in Rowan after only a few years of dating around and she doesn’t quite understand that it’s never going to work like that for you. There aren’t enough people out there that understand the kind of passion you have for your art and certainly not many that would also be compatible with you. You’re fine with that, but Chloe doesn’t know what to do with it. Especially not now she’s cottoned onto the fact that you have some kind of interest in Charles. It’s killing her.

It’s irrelevant though, whatever interest you have in Charles doesn’t factor into anything. He’s cute, he’s nice, but so were the dozen boys that you’ve already dated and not continued dating. So really, Chloe needs to stop pushing it because it’s pissing you off. You’re here for a holiday, not to be forced into conversations with a guy you don’t know. If she needs to have an argument to finally understand that, then so be it. You’ve been friends for years, it’ll blow over eventually.

You flick a switch and blinking lights illuminate the balcony. Fairy lights are wound up the posts and draped on the awning, intertwining with the lush green vines that have grown up through the wood slats. The air is balmy and the breeze light as you settle into one of two cushioned chairs situated by a coffee table. It’s perfect. You spread the oil pastels out next to your glass of wine and set your open notebook on your crossed legs, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

You’re alone for what feels like a long time but is probably only an hour or two.

When the sliding door clunks open you expect it to be Chloe coming over to have it out, but it’s not. Instead, Charles slips through the gap with the rest of the wine gripped in one hand.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling at you in a way that makes dimples carve in his cheeks, and dashing any hopes you have that he’d walk right past you.

“Hey,” you forget yourself for a moment and bite your lip on a broad smile.

He holds the bottle out toward you, offering more. You lean over your notebook and hold your empy wine glass up in acceptance.

“Merci,” you say, and in a moment of weakness (and probable wine drunk-ness) you gesture at the plush chair across from you.

Charles, somewhat caught off guard, looks between your outstretched hand, the chair, and your face, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly and finally taking a seat. Despite his apparent shock, you find it hard to believe he’d come out here simply to offer you some of the last of the wine. Surely, this is Chloe and Rowan’s doing. Though, strangely, you cant quite bring yourself to care.

He sets the bottle on the coffee table, next to your oil pastels. You lean forward to place a few back in their rightful spots, snagging your wine glass as you go.

Charles eyes’ scan your face for a moment, searching for something you suppose, then he points at your notebook, “Have you been drawing?”

You nod, “Mmm.”

You think perhaps the answer is a bit obvious. He seems to realise this, you watch a blush spread onto the top of his cheeks and he flutters his eyelids slightly, almost like rolling his eyes at himself. You don’t think about his eyelashes, thick and dark as they brush against his cheekbone, and you don’t think about his eyes, the lights reflecting off them, making them sparkle.

“What are you drawing then?” he asks after a moment of collecting himself, an edge of embarrassment to his voice.

You give in easily to the strange urge you have to show him, grabbing the notebook off your lap and holding it out for him to see what you’d been scribbling in the book for the past two hours. You let him take it off your hands, ignoring the spike of anxiety. He holds it gingerly, like it's a precious artefact (of course, to you, it is), which makes something warm bloom in your chest. You take a sip of wine and gesture for him to flip through a few pages, which he seems hesitant to do without permission. The book is angled in such a way that you can see most of the page, so you’re content to let him. Or at least you are until he flips to the page you’d started when you’d first come out here.

Panic drops like a stone in your gut because he’s looking right at a fully rendered drawing of his eyes. It’s in amongst some pillars strung with lights and covered in climbing vines; your best attempt at capturing the way the beach looked earlier in the day; and, perhaps your saving grace, Chloe half asleep on her towel. But the drawing of her is haphazard, it’s half-scribbled and half-finished, whereas the one of Charles eyes’ is as detailed as the sunset scene you’d done the page before. It had been something you just needed to get out, drawn in one of those hazes of yours. You’d felt better after it was done, your hands had stopped feeling like they were itchy.

Now, you itch to snatch the notebook off him, but you fear that would be even more incriminating. So you watch him look at the page and try to sit with the panicked feeling spreading in your chest.

Eventually, he points at the page, “Is this me?”

You bite your lip, breathing slowly through your nose to try and abate the blush spreading up your neck. You don’t say anything exactly, just shrug and rock your head back and forth in a kind of confirmation that doesn’t really admit anything. Though, there’s no denying the drawing is him.

“It’s good,” he says, seemingly stumbling over the words, “It’s very good.”

You frown into your drink, “Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

You know he means it. It’s not that.

“Yes,” you put down the wine glass, looking at him but avoiding eye contact, “I know. I know it’s good. I’m just… I’m embarrassed,” you admit.

He furrows his eyebrows– or it’s more that he squints and his eyebrows fold in with it. You watch his tongue dart out to run across the top of his bottom lip and you stamp down the less than innocent thoughts that come bubbling up at that. He waves the hand that’s not still holding carefully onto your notebook about for a moment, trying to conjure up words that he doesn’t have yet.

Slowly, he says, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I– It’s–”

He’s about to say flattering, so you cut him off, not wanting to hear the tone of it, whether it be pity or something else entirely.

You try to explain yourself, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Like after dinner,” you reach forward and flip the page back one, to the sunset, “I have to get it onto paper. Or… or… it just runs laps in my head for the rest of eternity, I guess. I don’t stop thinking about it.”

You cringe internally. You’ve just told him that you were so consumed by thoughts of his eyes that you had to draw them immediately. That is perhaps worse than just wanting to draw him because you thought he was cute. Charles raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your admission, but there’s perhaps also something sincere in there? You can’t pinpoint it, but it makes you feel a fraction better you think.

You sigh forlornly, “That’s weirder, huh?”

He laughs, properly laughs, and it sends some strange feeling skittering down your spine, “No. No, I get it. I don’t have any way to get it down as quickly as I’d like, but I definitely understand the feeling.”

You bite the inside of your lip, hesitant but still curious, “You understand the feeling? Really?”

“Yes,” he smiles easily now, relaxing more in the chair after he places your notebook onto the counter with a cautiousness you still don’t expect, “For me, with racing, it’s like I get an idea and I can’t sleep until I try it on track or talk about it with someone. Some of them don’t work, or aren’t possible, which is fine, but if it sounds right to me and it checks out with the people that it needs to, then, well, then it literally does run laps in my head.”

You laugh, mostly to yourself. You’re not sure yet if he understands what you’re saying, but he’s trying. That’s more than you can say for a lot of people. You try not to let that thought linger for too long.

“You think it’s similar?” you ask in a way you desperately hope comes across as curious and not accusatory.

He hums, waving his hand around again for words, “Perhaps. I think the urgency is the same. The passion is the same. Do you ever feel like something terrible will happen if you can’t–”

“Yes,” you’re a bit breathless in your haste to agree, to talk about this feeling with someone who understands, “Yes. I do. It’s like I need to put it somewhere before I lose it. Otherwise, it won’t be perfect, or it’ll be too late.”

“Exactly,” his eyes seem to light up, for a long second you watch the flickering lights reflect in them, “Exactly.”

“It’s never as good as I want it to be,” you admit, finding it easier to look him in the eye now that some strange barrier between you has been broken, “It’s never quite how I imagine it in my head.”

Charles points at your notebook, “These are very good, really. I don’t see how they could be better. But,” he shrugs, “Eh, I will win a race and still think of everything I did wrong.”

You nod eagerly in understanding as you lean back into the chair, finally relaxing into the cushions. It’s strange to have this conversation, knowing you’re talking about two entirely different careers, but feeling like they’re so similar. Maybe it’s just you and Charles that are similar, maybe your jobs have nothing to do with it? You don’t know, you just know it’s nice to feel like someone gets what you’re talking about.

Charles continues, speaking like he’ll explode if he doesn’t get this off his chest, “It’s there all the time, do you know what I mean? Maybe I’m not thinking about it every second, but it’s always there waiting for something to draw attention to it. And people ask what else is going on in my life, and of course I do other things, and I enjoy other things, but I want to be on the track. I want to be driving whenever I can.”

You nod again, more subdued now, “Mmm, right. I want to be making art all the time, and when I can’t it’s like missing a limb. To me art is– it– it’s like–”

“–breathing,” he finishes, almost the lilt of a question to it, but not really, it’s like he knows exactly what you mean… how you feel.

You exhale, long and slow, “Yeah. Like breathing.”

Both of you are quiet for a little after that. You’re trying not to stare at him, but it’s not easy. He’s looking at you almost blatantly and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks the longer he stares. The air feels thick with some feeling you can’t place. All you know is there are butterflies in your stomach and a smile keeps pulling at the edge of your pursed lips.

The smile takes over as you catch him starry-eyed in your peripheral vision, you mutter, “Stop that. Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

You tip your head back so you can’t see him looking at you, “Because.”

“Because?” he laughs breathily, shaking his head at you, “Okay, well, tell me if I’m misreading anything, but I’m pretty sure that drawing of me in your notebook says something, at least.”

You run a hand down your face, sighing loudly, “Yes, okay. I suppose it does. But– I–” for a moment you struggle for the right words to explain yourself, “I guess I’m not really looking to date anyone.”

He tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows and looking for all intents and purposes, like a confused puppy, “You guess?”

You nod, resisting the urge to just launch over the table and grab his face. He is very cute and he is making this so hard for you.

He sucks his teeth briefly, shrugging, “I’m not really either.”

“Alright,” you say, “Good.”

As over as that should make the issue, strangely enough it doesn’t feel like you’re done with Charles Leclerc and it certainly doesn’t feel like he’s done with you either.

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Amalfi Coast, Italy

You try to avoid Charles after that, you really do, but he doesn’t quite let you.

For a few days of the holiday you give him pointed looks and purse your lips a lot when he’s around. Chloe catches on straight away and that makes it all infinitely worse until she finally realises she might need to leave you alone (yeah, shocker). When Chloe finally forces everyone to get off your back about Charles, it becomes much easier to be around him. You’re not glaring at your friends while they make eyes at you, or worrying if you’re acting weird; you’re just allowed to be.

It’s nice. He’s nice.

But you knew that already.

Neither of you are looking for a relationship so there’s no pressure for it to be anything at all. But you have this sneaking suspicion that perhaps both of you are looking for a relationship with eachother regardless. You try to ignore the thought.

On day five, you’re sitting together on an outcropping of rock that overlooks the ocean and you’re letting Charles doodle in your notebook with a ballpoint pen. The bare skin of both your arms are pressed together, they stick with sweat from the hot midday sun but neither of you seem to care. As you watch him doodle inexpertly you can smell him— salt and sweat and whatever cologne he uses masking the very faint scent of burning rubber. Your hair, still damp, brushes his forearm, you wonder if you smell of acrylic paint and mildew from all the water cups you accidentally leave out for your paintbrushes.

You reach out to trace a line he’d made, “Here, it should be more like…” you taper off, taking the pen from his hand and quickly fixing the curve of the beach before handing the utensil back.

“Hmm,” he hums, giggling a little, “I guess that looks better.”

“You guess?”

He nods, “What if I had a very specific vision?”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning back to look him in the eye you tease, “A vision. Did you?”

He tilts his head down to look at you. You’re very close now, you can feel his breath fanning over your face. In the reflection of his sunglasses you watch your lips part slightly and your eyelids flutter. Your chest grows tight with anticipation and maybe a little bit of panic. Still, you reach out and slide his sunglasses up to settle in his hair. You’re a little careless, but you like the way his hair pokes out from them at odd angles. As he breathes out you hear it catch for a split second.

“Did you?” you repeat, knowing he won’t remember what you were talking about.

He blinks twice, still staring at you, “Hmm?”

“You said you had a vision,” you breathe.

“Oh,” as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your mouth, only for a second, but it’s long enough to you know you’re done for.

You both lean in at the same time, your noses sliding off each other in your eagerness. You breathe a kind of laugh into his mouth and you feel him try to suppress a smile against your lips. It’s slow for the first few seconds, just you and Charles figuring out how your mouths fit together. His mouth is warm and wet and so soft, and it’s easy to lose yourself in it. You move the hand that had adjusted his sunglasses, sliding it up his shoulder to the back of his muscled neck. Your fingers weave into the short hair at the base of it, your nails scratching absently there. He groans, ever so slightly into your mouth and it sends heat skittering down your spine, into the low of your gut.

The hand of his that isn’t clutching onto your notebook slips forward and winds around to press at your bare back. He pulls you closer to him as you slide your hand up to cup the back of his head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Soon it’s a mess of tongue and teeth and Charles blindly shoving your notebook somewhere it wont slip into the water so he can grab you with both hands. He tastes like red wine and coffee and you love the way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his teeth have been grazing at your bottom lip, like he wants to sink into it.

You’re almost in his lap when you’re forced to pull away for air.

Foreheads pressed together, you breathe heavily into the space between you. Your hand is still stuck in his hair and one of his on the small of your back, the other holding your knee. The sides of your noses touch, you nudge yours against his affectionately, tempted by the proximity of his mouth.

He laughs and you feel it against your lips, intermingling with your own breath, “Alright. That was–”

“Yeah,” you finish, dipping forward to kiss him again.

You’re lost for another few minutes. Tongue and teeth and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock behind you. And his hand on your jaw and in your hair and pulling you closer closer to him.

He pulls away this time, turning his head to press your cheeks together, mouth at your ear, “So,” he drags the word out with a laugh, “are you looking for a relationship now?”

You snort unceremoniously, and tease, “Hmm. I guess I would be amenable to that.”

“You guess?” he asks— but not really needing to at all because you can feel his dimples pressing into your cheek as he smiles knowingly.

You nod, smiling too, “I guess.”

🎨 yes of course i made a playlist>> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cAJaZjvK0V7SrmxoMosBX?si=ADlJGHxxQYKnlZ1jWFJxfw&pi=a-AI0MKbo3RTqE

taglist: (pls message if you'd like to be added to the taglist for charles. my yuck! one is full so need to start a new one😭)

#charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc smau #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x artist!reader #FICS #🍓anon #oneshot:cl16

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sollucets · 1 year

Text

I was doing my duty as your boyfriend.

OUR SKYY 2 x THE ECLIPSE

#our skyy 2 #our skyy 2 x the eclipse #the eclipse #akkayan #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #khaotunq #tuserhidden #boyfriend duties:#i made you food i brought you juice i cheered you up i put this on you i dried your tears & your hair & i love you i love you i love you #he's trying he really is. my baby my beloved my boy of all time #ayeposting #rowan gifs

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starkeysprincess · 23 days

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Omg pls do doctor!rafe delivering pregnant!readers baby

i fear this isn't the best but it's such a cute prompt

you and rafe were well-prepared, already having discussed that he'd be the one to deliver your baby when you first found out you were pregnant.

truth be told, he was more prepared than you were, he had made a hospital bag ready to go for when you went into labor.

the day your water broke, you were in sheer panic and so was he internally, you weren't due for another few weeks.

rafe grabbed your shoes and helped you slip them on before carrying you out of the house and into his car.

it wasn't until he reached the hospital that he realized he had forgotten to grab the hospital bag but thankfully, he was one step ahead and had stashed a second hospital bag in his office.

hours had passed and you were finally at ten centimeters as your contractions started to progress.

"just breathe, baby" rafe reassured, "you can do it, just breathe in and out".

you nodded, doing as he said, inhaling deeply before exhaling, "good, i need you to keep inhaling and exhaling as you push, okay?".

you cry out as you start to push, taking deep breaths in between and your face covered with a sheen layer of sweat, "almost there, you're doing great, baby, just one more push and we'll get to meet our baby boy".

you grit your teeth in pain, eyes squeezing shut as you push one more time and your ears ring at the sound of crying before you collapse back against the pillows, chest heaving.

"there he is, our newest addition to our little family, Rowan Cameron" rafe cooed, rocking your baby boy in his arms, carefully placing him in your arms before kissing you on your cheek, "you did amazing, baby".

#mail ˖⋆࿐໋#꒰ doctor!rafe ꒱#doctor!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pregnant!reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #obx fluff #rafe x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble

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dark-moonlust · 3 months

Text

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 5: Βabies

Pairing: Two nagas x f!human reader

Summary: it has been two months since your precious eggs hatched. You have a blissful life with your mates and babies. Your nagas are the best daddies in every way. 😉

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, starts cute but then there is smut, lactating and feeding babies, double 🍆🍆, fingering, p in v, οral (male), anal, dοuble penetr. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is part of a series. Find all the parts here.

Soft afternoon light filtered through the colorful curtains. The nursery was filled with the adorable cooing of your baby naga boys. You sat at the comfortable armchair, your naga hybrids in the cradle of your arms. It had been almost two months since your precious eggs had hatched, stealing your heart forever. They were a mix of human and serpentine body, just like their daddies.

You marveled at their tiny, adorable forms which fit just perfectly in your arms. Little Rowan looked after his daddy, Thorne. He had a cute, chubby face with big eyes the same color as yours, and a tiny green-scaled tail. Little Bjorn, however had inherited your human nose and lips, and Ragnor’s eyes and red-scaled tail.

You were so proud that your DNA had been accepted by the eggs and they now looked after you as well.

You kissed each of their chubby cheeks and blew raspberries on their round bellies. The little ones giggled and looked at you with tenderness and love. Ahh, your heart felt so full!

Sitting back comfortably, you lowered the neckline of your dress and offered your breasts to your hungry little naga hybrids. They eagerly latched on your nipples, tiny hands nuzzling your breasts as they began to nurse, their tails cradling your arms waist. It was a calming and incredibly beautiful sight, watching them feed and grow stronger with each passing day. And dear Gods, they did eat a lot. Which was good because you had so much milk that sometimes it made you uncomfortable.

Gentle cooing sounds echoed in the quiet room as the babies fed, their tails curled lovingly around you. They suckled greedily, their attention fully devoted to your breasts. A soft slithering sound caught your attention; your mates. With a smile, you turned to see Thorne and Ragnor entering the room. Your naga mates were tall and handsome with strong shoulders and chiseled muscles. Their lower torsos extended into supremely long and powerful tails that moved gracefully across the floor.

They had just come back from work. Thorne and Ragnor were rangers, they protected the frontiers of the rainforest. Your mates looked incredibly smug to have returned just in time for the feeding of the little nagas. They surrounded you from both sides, their scaled tails coiling around your seat. No matter how many times you fed the babies, they loved the sight of you and they also got highly aroused by it.

“Hey, there pretty mama,” Thorne said, bending down to kiss you deeply, tongue slipping in your mouth.

When Thorne pulled back from your mouth, Ragnor was claiming your lips, his long tongue brushing against your smaller one.

“Our beautiful mate,” Ragnor murmured proudly. “Feeding our babies. Looking so beautiful and…” he whispered in your ear, “sexy.”

“I breastfeed at least twenty times a day, aren’t you bored watching me yet?” you teased them, a bright smile on your face.

“Never,” Thorne said huskily, eyes on the babies suckling your nipples. “We can never have enough.”

“Look at our precious little ones,” Ragnor said, caressing each cheek of the babies as they fed from your breasts. They moaned softly at their daddies but kept feeding, too hungry for milk to care.

“Hungry little monsters,” Thorne chuckled. “They are enjoying it so much.”

“They take after their daddies,” Ragnor said, leaning in to kiss the mound of your left breast. His lips were warm and soft against your skin, but the baby didn’t like the disturbance and groaned softly.

“Easy there, little guy. I’m not going to steal your mama,” Ragnor said then winked up at you, “yet.”

Thorne followed, kissing the mound of your right breast. The other naga baby ignored him and latched your nipple harder as if to keep it for himself.

You winced a little at the tug, your cheeks blushing. “You two are incorrigible. Worse than babies.

Ragnor gently stroked your neck. “We can’t help it. It’s hard not to get a little jealous of our babies,” he grinned. “They get the best parts of you.”

You laughed, the sound blending with the hungry coos of the babies. “Well, our babies have their needs,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with love. “They need to be fed constantly.”

“And so do we,” Thorne whispered, kissing you lightly. “But we can wait.”

Once the babies finished their meal, they released your nipples with soft wet plops and squealed up at their daddies. Ragnor and Thorne held them in their arms, kissed and fondled their little tails. Watching your mates with the babies made you so emotional and at the same time, so happy that you’d carried their eggs and went through all the intense naga birth procedures.

Your baby hybrids were worth all of this and so much more.

An hour later, your babies were freshly clean and tucked in their cots, sleeping with their tails coiled over one another and their cute little mouths forming precious smiles. You and your mates kissed them one last time on their foreheads and quietly left the nursery.

“I believe it’s now time for you to take care of the daddies,” Ragnor told you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You giggled as they led the way to your bedroom, Ragnor’s strong arms pulling you down onto the mattress, his long tail wrapping around the bed. He kissed you, his mouth possessing yours, tongue licking inside your mouth. Thorne joined in your side, kissing the crook of your neck, tasting and teasing, making you moan with need.

A few expert tugs and wiggles and they had you naked beneath them, their hungry gazes roaming your body. After the birth, your breasts were full and round, your nipples incredibly sensitive and leaking milk. Your belly was also softer and curvier as were your thighs. Your mates were in love with your body and since you were a little shy about these changes, they took every chance to remind you just how perfect and sexy you were.

Ragnor slipped between your legs, arms holding under your knees and spreading them wide apart. Your pussy clenched with anticipation, leaking with arousal and with your mates’ seed from when they’d fucked you earlier this morning.

Thorne’s lips trailed a path down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Ragnor took one swollen tit in his hand, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipple. Thorne cupped the other, molding it to his large palm while his thumb toyed with your leaky nipple. You squealed as they took turns worshipping your tender buds, hungry lips and tongues bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

“Such stunning tits,” Thorne murmured, his breath hot against one nipple. “Full and ripe.”

Ragnor’s tongue nursed from the other bud, lapping up the leaking milk. “I could spend an eternity worshiping our mate,” he rasped. “Feasting on her leaking nipples, pulling, tugging, suckling.”

“Also fucking her pretty pussy and tight ass,” Thorne added cheekily, suckling your nipple into his mouth, tongue whisking the leaking tip.

“Oh, yes, that, too,” Ragnor said with a husky drawl. “Pounding her so deep that she can’t speak. Filling her up with our cum.”

“S—Stop teasing,” you said, clutching both their shoulders, your body shaking from overstimulation.

Unbothered, your mates resumed devouring your tits, massaging the tender mounds and doing all sorts of shameless things to your buds with their tongues. Your poor nipples, so sensitive and aching, responded eagerly to your mates’ touches. You stayed there and moaned lewdly as they had their way with you, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Soon, their hands joined in the sensual game.

Thorne’s fingers reached between your legs and he began to rub your clit in slow circles. Instinctively you arched your body, bucking your hips to gain more friction. At the same time, Ragnor’s hand slid over your inner thighs before stopping to tease the rosebud of your ass. He probed gently at first, his fingers lubricated with your juices, tracing the rosebud before thrusting two thick fingers inside.

Drawn-out moans left you as you thrashed and wiggled while they devoured your nipples and teased your pussy and ass. Their tails came to clutch around your thighs, holding you brazenly open for their ministrations which heightened your arousal and finally pushed you over the edge.

With a cry, you came undone, your body convulsing, your mind blanking out for a few moments. Ragnor and Thorne continued to tease your body, no less intensely. They suckled your tits loudly, slurped at your milk and let out animalistic growls. Thorne’s fingers were languid over your pussy while Ragnor’s stayed buried inside your ass.

“Fuuuuck, you’re exquisite, mate,” Thorne murmured, his lips claiming yours.

Ragnor watched as you were kissed, pulled out his fingers and leaned to kiss your neck.

Both nagas let out low vibrating purrs that that sent shivers down your spine.

When you finally came down from your high, you kneeled between them and started stroking their bodies, taking turns kissing each of them while tracing their bulging muscles and then down their cockslits. Their double cocks were already aroused and had emerged from their slits, jutting angrily toward their stomachs.

Your hands found Thorne’s shafts and your fingers wrapped around both of them, his cocks obscenely big in your small palms. Meanwhile you worked your tongue around each of Ragnor’s dicks, tracing the bulging veins and licking the beads of pre-cum on the heads. Ragnor jerked his hips with an audible moan, thrusting one dick into your mouth, your lips stretching, throat tensing.

Their tails joined in the game, coiling around your breasts while the tips slithered down your legs, opening your asscheeks. Ragnor’s tail filled your pussy while Thorne’s slid past the tight bud of your ass and up your guts. Muffled moans escaped you at the dual penetration.

“Mphhh…” you breathed when Ragnor drew back his cock which was glistening in your saliva. You immediately sucked his other cock while pumping Thorne’s with your other hand, both their tails fucking you with primal ferocity, causing your tits to bounce.

You alternated between your mates, pumping them with your hands and taking them in your mouth. Their cocks were hard and thick, the long girths kissing the back of your throat. You choked only a little and took them like a champ, slick sucking sounds and primal groans resounding across the room.

“Yes, mate —fuckkk, feels so fucking good.”

Ragnor slammed his cock down your throat, chasing his release.

“Ghrr….! Hmnn!” You gagged when the rip of his cock kissed the back of your neck, his hot release spurting down your mouth. You took both cockheads into your mouth and shallowed every drop. Ragnor roared, his hips undulating violently as he came down your throat.

Thorne came next and you instantly put his shafts in your mouth. Your mouth filled with the cockheads while your hands wrapped around the lengths that didn’t fit. In seconds, you were swallowing load after load of his cum. His jizz was too much, it dribbled down your lips but Thorne gently pulled it back into your mouth with his thumbs. You swallowed everything obediently.

“Such a good girl,” Thorne growled as you nursed his cocks, licking a long slow stripe up the underside of the shafts. “Taking every drop of our cum.”

“And letting our tails fuck her tight little holes,” Ragnor drawled, his fingers tracing where you were filled to the hilt with their tails. “Want our tails to keep fucking you, love? Or do you want our cocks?”

“Hmphhh…” you tried to talk but your mouth was filled with Thorne’s cockheads.

“There you go,” Thorne slowly pulled back, slipping from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting his shafts to your mouth.

“Co-cocks… want to be full,” you muttered, a hazy smile playing on your lips. “Cocks, pl-please.”

“Whatever our mate wants, our mate gets,” Thorne kissed you wetly. “We’ll give you our cocks and our love.”

“And lots, lots of orgasms,” Ragnor added, claiming your lips, too.

Thorne laid down on the mattress and gently rearranged your body, pulling you to lay with your back on his chest, your legs splayed wide. Ragnor came to rest between them, watching at where their tails were still fucking you slowly. The nagas retracted their appendages and instantly wrapped around your legs, keeping them obscenely open.

Ragnor hovered above you, rubbed your clit then used his thumbs to pull your outer lips apart and expose the glistening entrance of your pussy. You were drenched, your folds pink and puffy. The bud of your ass was also swollen and the sight of your eager holes made them feral.

“How about I fuck your lovely pussy, love?” Ragnor rumbled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thorne can take your tight little ass.”

“Hmm… yes please…” you clutched him desperately. “Want you both.”

“Sharing is caring,” Thorne muttered cheekily as he lifted you by the globes of your ass and positioned you over his twin cocks. He cupped both shafts and prodded your tight asshole with the heads. You whimpered, your tight hole stretching to accommodate his massive cocks. Inch by inch he lowered you down until he was deep up your ass.

It was then when Ragnor pushed forward, clutching his shafts in his palms and driving them inside your pussy. You accepted them, inch by delicious inch, filled to the limit, your belly swelling with their girths inside you.

“Tight. So wet and tight.” Ragnor’s gaze smoldered with need. “Taking us so good. Our good little mate. The mother of our offspring. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, love.“

They started to grind inside you, their hips pumping steadily. They stretched and filled your holes again and again. You sobbed and clung to Ragnor for dear life, while Thorne toyed with your nipples and flicked your clit in time with his thrusts. You came in no time, pussy and ass clenching around their cocks, body arching wildly. Their tails gripped your hips so you wouldn’t shift away from their pounding.

They didn’t stop.

They kept fucking you through your orgasm, Ragnor’s grip tightening as he pulled you to ride him. Your legs wrapped around his torso and he lowered you onto his thick, waiting cocks. The stretch was intense, his girths stretching you to the brim. Thorne sat up behind you, his chest against your back as he adjusted the angle and thrust his cocks up your ass.

The new position was overwhelming, you were so completely filled, consumed by the sheer intensity of their shafts rubbing inside you.

They settled into a maddening rhythm, pounding your holes at the same time, never leaving you empty. Your arms clutched them while your small body, trapped between them jerked in time with their powerful thrusts. The sensations were maddening, leaving you gasping and begging for release.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Thorne breathed against your ear, hands tweaking your nipples. “I can feel your ass clenching around me.”

Ragnor hummed. “Can’t last much longer,” he said, his voice rough.

“Hmmm… m’ too, want to come— ahnn… close so close,” you whimpered as they pounded into you, changing nothing in their tactics.

“Let it go, little mate,” Ragnor drawled. “Let it go and take our cum, hm?”

You nodded fervently, clutching them while bouncing on them and chasing your peak.

Thorne’s cocks drove deep into your ass, and Ragnor’s cocks filled your pussy utterly, their relentless pace shattering you. You came with a cry, every nerve ending on fire.

They followed right after, their cocks pulsing and filling you with loads and loads of their seed. It was so much it overflowed and tricked down your thighs.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, they gently rolled you sideways, their cocks still hard inside you. They kissed you, Thorne against your back, his hands caressing your face. Ragnor lay in front of you, whispering soothing words as he nibbled at your neck. You fell asleep nestled within them, satisfied and full of love.

Your mates. The loves of your life. The fathers of your children. Your everything.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! Also, what do you want to happen next? What do you want to see? My inbox is open, hit me up! More smutty stuff on Patreon, too. 😊🖤

#getting pounded by nagas #nagas x you #nagas x reader #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster fluff #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x you #monsters x human #monster lover #monster fudger #monster romance #monster smut

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megalony · 3 months

Text

Meet My Family

This is an Evan Buckley imagine requested by anon, I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think.

I'd love to do a follow up or two if anyone would be interested.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Evan has been waiting for the right time to introduce the team to his family. But when his son is ill and he has to leave shift early, he tells the team about his family. (Autistic! son)

Enjoy.

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A shudder tore down Evan's spine and tingled throughout his arms when his son screamed.

It didn't matter how many times Evan had heard Rowan scream or make similar screeching, high-pitch noises, each one always cut through him.

With his lips rolled together, Evan tried again to reach for the shirt on the bed that he needed so he could get dressed ready for work. But Rowan moved faster. Despite the crackling coughs passing the five year old's lips, he took a dive and grabbed the shirt next to him on the bed, pinning it to his chest.

Evan took a deep breath before he crouched down on his knees at the foot of the bed so he was level with his boy. He watched Rowan tilt his head to the side, snuffling and huffing into the shirt he was cuddling like it was one of his many toys.

"Please." He kept his tone gentle and held his hand out, but Rowan wasn't agreeable today. Evan rose a brow and moved to tap the logo on the shirt that had the fire station name and number sewn into the crest. "Daddy's going to work. I gotta get dressed." He tapped the crest again before pointing to himself, but all he got was a sad scream that twisted into a cry at the end.

He knew Rowan knew what he was saying, or at least what he was trying to convey to him.

Evan was an expert on Rowan's different noises by now, he had to be. Noises were a way Rowan communicated because he couldn't speak, so Evan and (Y/n) had learned to decipher which ones were happy, which ones meant he was in pain and what sounds were angry or frightened.

Right now he was both in pain and angry. He didn't want Evan to go to work. Rowan didn't know what to do when he wasn't well, he knew he wasn't going to school because Evan hadn't gotten him into his school uniform and that meant his routine was disrupted.

A barking cough left Rowan's lips which made his chest sound like it was made of tissue paper that was ripping and crinkling apart. He pinned Evan's shirt to his chest and Evan sighed before he reached out.

He lifted Rowan up off the bed and let him snuggle against his chest. Since the moment he was born, Rowan had been a cuddler. Nothing couldn't be solved by a cuddle and it was something Evan loved about him.

Evan knew a few of the other parents from Rowan's school and he knew half of the kids there didn't like physical contact as much as Rowan. Some of the kids couldn't handle cuddles or long hugs or interacting with their families. If Rowan had been like that, it would physically kill Evan. He was so, so relieved that every day he got to pick his son up and lather him with kisses and hold him and show him he was loved.

And cuddles were a way for Rowan to express himself. He couldn't speak, (Y/n) and Evan were never going to hear their son tell them he loved them, but at least he could show it through touch and contact.

Rowan's birth had been a horrid experience that resulted in him not breathing for the first few seconds of his life and caused brain damage.

And when he was two and a half, after noticing little patterns and different behaviours in Rowan, added to the fact that he hadn't learned to speak, they ended up getting an autistic diagnosis.

He was non-verbal, granted Rowan could make noises, he made lots of sounds. He loved to click his tongue and make a noise that always reminded Evan of the Crazy Frog. And Rowan could scream, he would belt out a scream if he was angry or make a squeal if he was happy, but he couldn't say any words.

That meant it was sometimes hard to figure out if Rowan was in pain or the reasons why he was upset. They only knew Rowan was ill yesterday because he had a temperature and he was coughing and screaming. They were starting to use picture cards with him, but it was a slow process. They wanted to teach him to point to a picture to show them if he was in pain, such as if he had a tummy ache he could point and show them. At the moment, they used pictures for him to point out where he wanted to go.

And they had a picture board depicting what they did each day to try and help him have some control and sense of understanding.

"Alright buddy, alright."

He felt Rowan snuggle down against him until his head was tucked beneath Evan's chin and his arms loosely draped around Evan's neck, leaving the shirt hanging over his back, tightly gripped in his son's hand.

Tipping his head down, Evan kissed the top of Rowan's matching curls and smoothed a hand up and down his back as his other arm wrapped across his legs to keep him perched on his chest. He kept him snuggled close and kept kissing his head while he turned to leave the bedroom. There was no point arguing like this, Evan was just going to have to go about his morning routine and show Rowan that he would be leaving for work soon.

Rowan had been glued to both parents all night because he had a horrid chesty cough and Evan was sure he was going to start throwing up soon. He couldn't sleep and therefore Evan hadn't managed to sleep much either, most of the night was spent laid up in bed with Rowan on his chest.

Evan slowly made his way downstairs and padded through into the kitchen where he knew (Y/n) was because he could hear the radio humming softly through the air. He bounced Rowan a bit higher on his chest and continued to kiss the top of his head as he wandered past the kitchen table towards (Y/n).

His eyes instantly landed on (Y/n) and a soft smile flooded his face as he approached her. She was wearing a pair of leggings, mostly covered by one of Evan's long button up shirts which hung off (Y/n)'s frame since it was about two sizes too big, but she still made it look good. Her hair was pinned back and despite the tired look in her eyes, just looking at her made Evan smile.

"Morning sweetheart," Evan walked over to (Y/n) and stood behind her, curving his right arm around her waist while his left arm kept Rowan in place against his chest.

His fingers feathered up and down her waist and he took the time to kiss the top of her head while (Y/n) leaned her head back on his shoulder so she could smile up at him.

He pecked her temple again and reached his arm up from her waist to rattle through the medicine cupboard above her. All medicines had to be in high cupboards so Rowan couldn't get hold of them, he had a tendency to grab anything and stick it in his mouth. All the cleaning products were in the top cupboard above the counter because Rowan had tried to eat the wash liquid. It was either put them high up or get locks for the cupboards.

Evan grabbed the Calpol and the thermometer, grinning when he felt (Y/n) twist her head to the side so she could press her lips against his neck and graze her teeth over his skin. Not enough to mark him up for work, but just enough to make a red scratch worm onto his skin.

"Morning… you get hot or something?" (Y/n) did a quick sweep up and down his frame, wondering why he was wearing everything but his shirt. He didn't usually walk about in trousers but no shirt, it was more usual to see Evan either fully dressed or simply in his pants, there wasn't an inbetween.

"Someone's got my shirt." His eyes drifted down to the person in his arm who had gone quiet all of a sudden. He couldn't even feel Rowan humming or making his usual clicking sound which meant he was either tired or feeling unwell, possibly both.

Ducking his head down, Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s until she got the hint and lifted her head up to meet him halfway. His nose nudged her cheek and his lips smothered hers, stealing a kiss that took all the air from (Y/n)'s lungs.

She groaned against his lips which gave Evan the chance to slide his tongue past her lips to tango with hers. He could feel her hand gliding across his chest, her nails leaving just the slightest scratch into his skin to wind him up and she gasped into his mouth when his hand holding the medicine bottle swatted down against her bum.

At least Rowan never seemed to mind whenever Evan wanted to steal a kiss from (Y/n) or when he curled around her and laid with her. They could hug and kiss and be intimate without Rowan making a fuss or getting protective or whining like most other kids would do.

"He's flushed." (Y/n) whispered against Evan's lips when she felt Rowan pressing up between them.

She pulled back from Evan's tempting lips so she could kiss Rowan's forehead which was hot and slightly sweaty. He was probably going to run a fever soon if he wasn't already.

"Alright buddy, let's take a look at you," Evan turned around to face the kitchen island and gently sat Rowan down on the counter.

He noticed Rowan's breathing was slightly crackly but he wasn't snuffling like he had a cold. The five year old's gaze seemed to be focused on the tattoo on Evan's left shoulder, he didn't understand them or what they were, but he seemed to love staring at them.

He cuddled Evan's shirt to his chest and stayed unusually still while Evan kissed his temple and tried to listen to his breathing.

He hadn't been well yesterday either, but he still went to school because he wasn't lethargic and he was active enough to go. But during the afternoon and into the evening his coughing got worse and he was clearly sick today.

"Okay, ready? Be brave, just like daddy."

Evan turned on the thermometer and pressed it into his own ear so Rowan could see it wasn't something that would hurt him. The five year old was a menace at the doctors. He wouldn't let them look in his ears, his mouth, if they touched him he screamed and vaccinations were the worst. He wouldn't let any of the teachers give vaccinations at school so Evan always made sure he had the day off and they got his vaccinations at the doctors.

One of them, usually Evan, had to pin Rowan to their chest while the other talked to him and held his hand so the doctor could inject him.

Once it was done, Evan held the thermometer out to Rowan. The young boy shook his head and made a discontent noise and when Evan pushed it in his ear, he screamed and tried to hit Evan's arm. It gave Evan the chance to snatch his shirt from his son and toss it somewhere behind him to be put on later.

"Done, all done." Evan placed it out the way so it couldn't be weaponised since Rowan was now upset. "Thirty-nine point four, he's got a fever."

"Great." (Y/n) murmured defeatedly and when she passed him, she leaned over to kiss Evan's shoulder. At least Rowan was up and active and making noises. If he was lethargic they would have cause for concern, and his fever wasn't too high or in the danger zone yet which was a relief. He would be okay for now, (Y/n) would keep an eye on him.

Evan held the Calpol out on a spoon which Rowan happily accepted. The good thing about him was that he didn't complain about medicine. He took anything given to him whether it was a liquid or a tablet or a cough sweet, but it usually had to be liquid. Rowan didn't understand that some tablets couldn't be chewed, he would chew any he was given.

Reaching out for him, Evan gently lifted him up and set him down to his feet so he could trot over to (Y/n). He swiftly pulled open the bottom drawer where he knew all his cups and beakers were kept and held a beaker out to (Y/n), his way of asking for a drink.

"Rowan, buddy, look." Evan tugged his shirt over his head and tucked it into his pants before he reached out for his son's hand.

He gently tugged until Rowan finally looked at where he was pointing. The whiteboard stuck on the fridge.

It was their now and next board. They printed pictures such as food, drinks, places like the park and cinema or school, and stuck them on the board so Rowan knew what was happening or so he could pick what he wanted to do.

Evan took the picture of himself and moved it to the bottom of the board, leaving Rowan and (Y/n)'s pictures up on the top. That told Rowan Evan was leaving.

"Daddy going to work, you can watch movies with mummy." He put the picture of the tv up on the board but he winced when Rowan stomped his foot. At first, they weren't sure Rowan actually understood any of the pictures or what they were trying to show him, but his reactions told them different.

And just last week, Rowan had noticed that Evan wasn't in the house when he woke up, and he trotted into the kitchen and took Evan's picture off the board all by himself. He stuck it at the bottom of the whiteboard where there was a building to signify Evan going to work. (Y/n) cried when she watched him.

It proved they had a way of communicating and that Rowan was understanding them and what was going on around him.

A rumbling, whining sound left Rowan's lips before he grabbed Evan's picture and moved it up next to the tv. Evan sighed, biting his lip as he shook his head and pointed to his shirt before he slowly moved his picture again.

"No, daddy's going to work."

Evan pressed his hand over the picture so Rowan couldn't try and move it again and it caused Rowan to scream. He tried to pull on Evan's hand, but when he realised his dad wasn't going to budge or listen, he stomped his feet and began to cry.

His cries ended in broken coughs as he flopped down to sit on the floor, his version of a tantrum. He continued to cry but his hands batted out in front of him and Evan wasn't sure what he wanted until Rowan finally grabbed his hand. He held his dad's hand, still crying, and just kept squeezing for a while. Evan didn't know if Rowan was asking for comfort or if he was just trying to convey how upset and sick he felt, but Evan stayed still and let him get it out of his system.

"Baby, here's your drink, look." (Y/n) leaned over him, kissing his forehead as she held his beaker in front of him.

She waited for him to take it but Evan reacted quicker, he could see what the five year old was about to do. When Rowan went to smack the drink away, Evan took it first.

"Fine, daddy will drink it then."

Rowan was stumped. He stopped crying, tears still running down his face and his chest heaving, but he stopped making any noise. He watched Evan take the beaker and take a sip and that was enough to snap Rowan out of his tantrum.

He pushed up and took the beaker from Evan as if his dad should know that he was not allowed to do that. And he flopped forward into Evan's chest, seeking a hug while he calmed down enough to have a drink.

"If you need anything today just call me, okay?" Evan looked across at (Y/n) and his expression softened when she held out a cup of coffee towards him. She knew he would need one now to wake him up for the drive to the station and then he would have another one as soon as he got to work.

"We might need another tub of strawberries." (Y/n) leant her hip against the counter, her eyes practically melting as she looked over at her boys.

Rowan had a thing for fruit. (Y/n)'s lockscreen on her phone was of Rowan and Evan at the local farm picking strawberries. All the ones Rowan picked went straight in his mouth, and the same could be said for Evan. For every strawberry Evan put in his punnet, he also put one in his mouth.

It was a routine for Rowan to have them at breakfast and they were almost out.

(Y/n) watched Evan nod with a smile and her eyes followed him as he scooped Rowan up from the floor and walked over to her until he was close enough for her arms to bind around. Keeping her and their boy pinned against his chest until it was time for him to go. He didn't like leaving them, especially when one of them wasn't well.

***

"What're we eating, I'm starving." Evan clapped his hands together and leaned over the counter to grab the plates from the cupboard. He was sure in any moment his stomach was going to growl as if to prove his point.

"You're always hungry."He huffed and took a glance over his shoulder at Hen as she passed him to sit at the table.

He couldn't really disagree with that. Evan was always hungry, but he was always on the go. When everyone else at the station could relax and sit down between calls, Evan was restocking the trucks and mopping the floors and tidying up. He couldn't sit still. He worked out a lot in the gym every single day. He was always on the move; he had every right to be hungry every minute of the day when each minute was accounted for.

He set the plates around the table and took his usual seat next to Bobby once the Captain set down a bowl of carbonara in the middle of the table.

Evan couldn't help but zone out of the conversation as he began to eat. His mind was wandering again.

He couldn't help but think back to this morning and how Rowan had thrown another tantrum when Evan tried to walk out the door. He screamed until he started coughing and then he threw up his breakfast. Moments like that made Evan hate having a job. He never wanted to leave (Y/n) or Rowan and when he did long shifts, it upset Rowan.

It was starting to bug Evan to the point he was contemplating asking Bobby if he could go on twelve hour shifts. He didn't mind doing the usual mix of days and nights, but pulling long double shifts wasn't good for Rowan.

"I think that girl on the last call had the hots for you, Buck." Hen wiggled her brows and pointed her fork at him while he felt Eddie nudge him in the side.

"She was a cook, you'd get along great in the kitchen." Eddie piped in and pointed at the food.

A soft smirk filtered across Evan's lips and he flashed his teeth before he shook his head and took a bite of his food. He didn't need to find anyone, he already had a girl waiting back home for him. And he wouldn't get along great in the kitchen with that woman on their call this morning, she seemed bossy and if Evan was bossed around in the kitchen, he got snappy.

"Ah, I don't need a sous chef, thanks."

The team didn't know about Evan's family.

As he took another bite of his lunch, Evan couldn't help but move his free hand towards the chain dangling around his neck. His fingers traced the silver links and wandered beneath his cotton shirt to the wedding ring that was a small but comfortably weight against his chest, right near his heart.

He didn't like wearing the ring on his finger, not in this line of work. Evan couldn't risk losing his ring and he didn't want the constant battle of scrubbing his hands and cleaning his ring whenever he got his hands dirty in this job. Plus, Evan was an accident prone in this job. He knew if he went unconscious at the hospital and he needed a scan or an X-ray, they would cut his ring if they couldn't slide it off his finger. He wasn't taking that risk. Having it hung on a chain was safer and made him feel better and protected.

Evan had been meaning to tell the team about his family, but he hadn't found the right time. He wanted to introduce everyone soon, properly. He had waited to make sure this job stuck, that this team was truly like a family before he opened up the most precious thing he had to them.

It was Rowan Evan was thinking of. It took him a while to get used to new people and Evan didn't want to get Rowan used to them just for this job to go sideways or in case something happened within the team. And Evan had to make sure that everyone would be understanding.

He'd had his fair share of fights with people who had made rude comments about his son or people who dismissed him. Evan had to make sure none of the team were like that before he opened up.

Just as they were all finished and Evan collected the empty plates, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He shuffled the plates into one hand, slowing down so he didn't drop them while he fished his phone out his pocket.

'Babe <3'

The air disappeared from Evan's lungs and he hurriedly dumped the plates in the sink before he spun on his heels. He weaved past Chimney and Hen, throwing them a cautious smile so they didn't try and ask what he was doing or why he was staring at his phone like that with his jaw slack.

"Hey baby, everything okay?" It didn't matter how many times Evan told (Y/n) she could and should ring him at work if something was wrong, she barely did.

She would text him, send him pictures and let him know if Rowan was okay or if something was wrong, but she didn't usually ring him. "Hey, I- I didn't wanna ring you but… babe I might need some help."

That alone was enough to put Evan on edge. He could hear the panic in his wife's voice and it sent his heart lurching up into his throat. He took a few steps away from the kitchen until he was leaning over the railing. His back and bum arched out behind him and his elbows dug down into the metal railing as he tried to control his breathing.

"Why, what's happened?"

"His temperature spiked, and he was coughing so much he wasn't breathing properly. The doctor said to come down to the hospital s-so we're at the emergency room. Evan he won't calm down, he knows where we are, I don't think he's gonna let the doctor anywhere near him. C-can you come down?"

She hated to ask, but (Y/n) needed help and that thought alone sent Evan reeling.

He should have stayed home. He shouldn't have come into work, he should have stayed when he saw that Rowan had a fever this morning.

He knew Rowan hated the doctors and the few times he had been into the emergency room hadn't been pretty. Rowan didn't cooperate, he got frightened and nervous and if strangers tried to touch him he would scream and have a meltdown. Added to the fact that he didn't feel well was a recipe for disaster.

"I'll talk to Bobby and come straight down, okay? Try to keep him calm and wait outside for me if you have to, I won't be long baby I promise."

"Thank you."

Evan raked his fingers through his hair and spun on his heels, scouting round to look for Bobby. He saw Bobby sat at the table, nursing a steaming cup of tea, sat chatting to Chimney about something that was clearly amusing since they were both laughing.

He began tapping his phone against his thigh as he headed over and stood at Bobby's side, gingerly tapping his shoulder. "Can we talk?" Evan dipped his head to the side to silently plead that he wanted a word in private.

He could see the concern pooling in Bobby's eyes but the Captain nodded nonetheless. He set down his cup, nodded at Chimney and got up to follow Evan towards the stairs. Clearly something had to be wrong if Evan didn't want to talk in front of the team.

"What's up… is something going on?"

"I…" He didn't know how to word this. He hadn't told any of them about his family, none of them even knew he was married. Let alone that he had a son.

He sighed, tapping his phone against the palm of his hand as he fidgeted his weight from one foot to the other. He had to do this, he had to go because it wouldn't be fair to (Y/n) or Rowan to leave them both at the hospital without him. Rowan was going to have a meltdown, he would be scared out of his wits and if they had to take him for a scan or give him any kind of shot or IV, (Y/n) would have to pin him down. Evan had to be there with her.

"Bobby, I don't wanna ask, but I… I have a family emergency, I need to go to the hospital. Can I go? I'll make up the overtime I swear."

"Is everything okay?" He wasn't pushing or prying, he was testing the waters. Testing whether Evan felt comfortable enough to open up and tell him what was going on.

He sighed and looked down at his phone and when he unlocked it, he showed his homescreen to Bobby. Evan's favourite picture; the three of them when they were at the beach and the five year old had the cheesiest grin on his face. Rowan had such a lovely smile and his laugh was like music to Evan's ears, but it was hard to capture his smile in a picture, he seemed to sense the camera and stopped smiling immediately.

Which was why Evan loved the picture, it had been the first selfie he took of the three of them where Rowan continued to laugh. Evan had (Y/n) laid between his legs and Rowan stood up in her arms, leant back against her chest, his head tossed back in the brightest smile Evan had ever seen.

"My boy, Rowan. He's in the emergency room, he's not been well but he's got brain damage, he… he doesn't like doctors, I need to be there to help calm him down."

He could see the wave of emotions rushing across Bobby's hazel eyes. Surprise, confusion, revelation, happiness and then panic. All together, all at once. All for Evan.

"Go. Don't worry about the overtime, as long as you message me and let me know everything's okay and how he is. And I wanna know everything about them when you're back."

Relief had never taken hold of Evan so much as it did in that moment. He could feel his knees close to giving way beneath him and before he could stop himself, he pushed forward and looped his arms around Bobby's neck. He reeled his Captain in for a hug that took him by surprise, but caused a quiet laugh to rumble Bobby's chest.

"Thank you." Sincerity clung to Evan's voice and he felt Bobby pat his shoulder before he spun and bolted for the stairs.

He had to go grab his bag and keys and make his way down to the hospital. He had to go get to his family.

It didn't take him long to get there and Evan pulled up in the closest space he could find, barely locking the jeep before he was bolting down the path towards the emergency room.

His body turned to the right, aiming for the reception desk, ignoring the waiting room that was oddly full for lunchtime on a weekday. He knew the protocol, they would see that Rowan was autistic and they would try and get him seen to first. And if Evan couldn't hear his son then he wasn't in the waiting room, he would be in one of the assessment rooms with a doctor.

"I'm here for Rowan Buckley, my wife brought him in about twenty minutes ago."

"Buckley… he's in cubicle three, straight down the corridor, I'll buzz you in."

Evan sighed and mumbled his thanks before he bolted through the door as soon as the receptionist pressed the button, allowing Evan through into the assessment ward.

He couldn't contain the relief he felt as his knees shook and he bolted over to his family once the room was within his sight.

(Y/n) was stood in the middle of the room, next to the bed that Rowan was sat on. She had her arms around his middle, letting him lean back into her chest while she kissed the top of his head. But as soon as Rowan looked up, something sparkled in his eyes and he started his round of screeching noises that sounded similar to 'mememe' over and over.

"Hey buddy, hey I'm here." Evan crouched down in front of the bed and let Rowan push forward into his arms.

He could feel Rowan's crackling breaths in his neck and his usual murmurs and noises faded into sharp breaths. He'd never heard Rowan so out of breath before. Rowan could usually make noises over and over without looking like he was breathing, he even hummed as he ate sometimes. Hearing him so out of breath and feeling the way he clung to Evan made him want to cry.

"How is he?" Evan let Rowan tuck into his chest and he kissed his hair before he looked up at (Y/n).

"They think it's pneumonia, I asked them to wait for you, they wanna do bloods and an X-ray, he's not gonna like that."

A groan burned at the back of Evan's throat and he tilted his head down, burrowing his nose and lips into Rowan's curls for a few moments to try and gather some strength and courage from somewhere. Rowan wasn't good with needles, he wouldn't be okay with them taking bloods from him and an X-ray was going to frighten the life out of him. Evan had had more than his fair share during his teenage years.

(Y/n) moved round the other side of the bed and perched down next to Rowan while she reached down for Evan. Her fingers feathered along his neck and across his shoulder and she managed a soft smile when Evan leaned his head on her thigh.

They stayed like that for a few moments until the door opened and the nurse who had seen them earlier walked back in along with a doctor.

Nurse Janey had been very sweet with Rowan and he had been calm enough to let her take his temperature, but he wouldn't let her do anything else.

They had all been very understanding whereas some people, even health professionals, weren't considerate with Rowan. (Y/n) had walked out of a doctor's appointment before when the GP sighed and tutted at Rowan as if he could control the way he felt or the noises he made and he hadn't understood why Rowan wouldn't sit still or cooperate.

This room was a children's assessment room, clearly. Evan took note of the flowers and clouds painted onto the walls and the few toys in the corner of the room to help kids concentrate and feel calm.

"I take it this is dad?" Janey placed a clipboard down on the table and smiled at Evan when he stood up and nodded. He kept an arm around Rowan's shoulders, letting his boy lean against his leg while he coughed and rocked back and forth on the bed.

"I'm Frida, I'd like to check Rowan over and then take some bloods. I know that won't be easy, but if we can get this confirmed as pneumonia, we can get him on antibiotics and hopefully send you all home."

The doctor walked over to the three of them and wheeled a stool over so she could sit in front of Rowan. She removed the stethoscope from her neck and placed it in her ears, looking between both parents for their approval before looking down at Rowan.

"I need to listen to his breathing."

She tried to move the stethoscope near Rowan's back, but he wasn't impressed. He leaned back into (Y/n), pushing back when she tried to lean him forwards and as soon as the doctor's hand was near him, he smacked her hand away.

"Rowan no, don't do that." Evan held his hand and sat down next to him on the bed while (Y/n) kept hold of his waist and tilted him forwards.

A low grumble whined past his lips and he mixed between coughing and something like a growl when the stethoscope pressed down on his back. He shimmied his shoulders from side to side, trying his best to get away but he was surprised when the doctor pulled away after a minute. He clearly assumed every test was going to hurt.

"Okay, blood pressure next. This doesn't hurt, sweetheart." Her smile was calming, but she could see the five year old didn't trust or understand her.

His head tilted to the side and a perplexed look filled his curious yet weary eyes when he looked at the black band that was moving suspiciously near his arm. He let Evan lift his arm up but when the band went around his wrist, he screamed and flung both arms out, shuffling back into (Y/n).

"Baby it's okay," (Y/n) soothed, kissing his temple as she leaned into the bed to cuddle Rowan, but he shook his head from side to side and kept screaming in protest. His arms flapped at his sides like a bird trying to take flight and Evan dragged his hand across his chin. He wished he could show Rowan it wouldn't hurt and that he was safe, but words weren't going to do that.

"If he'd feel safer with you doing it, that's fine." Frida held the blood pressure cuff out to Evan when she clocked the logo on his shirt.

He knew what he was doing and Rowan was his boy, he would trust Evan not to hurt him.

"Buddy, look. Safe, see, it's okay." Evan slipped his arm through the cuff and strapped it around his forearm to show Rowan it wasn't something to hurt. He kept tapping it until Rowan reached out to skim his fingers across the material, and then Evan tapped his shirt. It was like a piece of clothing.

Part of him felt bad. He knew once the band tightened around Rowan's arm, his son was going to lose trust in him. He was going to have a fit and scream and become angry that Evan had lied to him because that tightening feeling would resonate as pain for Rowan. But they needed to make sure he was okay and the more tests Rowan had, the more he would become used to them.

They had to get him used to hospitals for the future, for any other illness or problems he had. He had to know that this was to make him better.

"Daddy's doing it, see?" (Y/n) murmured against his ear and she lifted Rowan up to sit him on her lap.

He coughed and made his usual mumbling sound, but he stopped fighting when Evan slid the band around his arm and strapped it around.

The way Rowan looked between Evan and the band had Evan's heart picking up and he felt like he was going to be sick once he turned the machine on.

(Y/n) looped both arms around Rowan's waist, her eyes locked with her husband as he shuffled closer until their knees were touching. She shivered, pulling in on herself when a shrill scream left Rowan's lips. His right hand immediately moved towards the band and his breathing turned into escalated, shallow huffs as he began to panic.

He dug his fingers into the band and tried to wrench it off until Evan held his hand, but he flung his arm out, trying his best to hit Evan or (Y/n) or anyone he could reach. He didn't like it. They were hurting him. They were scaring him.

He continued to scream until he didn't have any air left and his shoulders bashed into (Y/n)'s chest as he wriggled from side to side, trying to shimmy his way off her lap.

"Shh, baby it's okay. Almost done, almost done baby."

"Buddy, look at daddy. It's okay." Evan kissed the palm of Rowan's hand before he pressed Rowan's hand against his cheek. He leaned closer until their noses were touching, something Rowan loved doing almost as if it was his way of giving kisses to those he loved.

Their eyes locked for a few seconds and Rowan paused his screams and slowed down his wriggling attempts to break free. Evan knew his boy had to be calm or the blood pressure reading would be sky high and it wouldn't be accurate. He had to calm down to get the most accurate reading so they knew if he was okay or if his blood pressure was high before he began to panic.

"All done."

As soon as the band was unstrapped from his arm, Rowan let out a frustrated scream and slapped his hands down on his legs as he shook back and forth like he was telling them he wasn't impressed.

"What's the best way to take bloods? I'd assume he won't like his arm being held behind his back?"

For some children, they would get them to have their arms pinned against their back so they couldn't see the needle. But Doctor Frida guessed that would only send Rowan into a further state of panic which they didn't want to do. But they needed to take bloods, and it would be best to do that now rather than have to get a specialist to come down to put him under anaesthetic which would only upset Rowan all over again.

Evan looked across at (Y/n), both of them sharing a look before Evan reached out for him. They were going to have to restrain him. It was the only way Rowan would let them do anything.

"What we did for the vaccines?" Evan muttered, to which (Y/n) nodded. They had formed a routine for his vaccines which had worked well, only giving Evan minimal bruises afterwards.

Shuffling back, Evan sat up on the centre of the bed and spread his legs. Once he patted his thighs, Rowan immediately crawled over to sit with him. Evan spun him round so Rowan was sat with his back against his dad's chest and he smiled when (Y/n) shuffled closer next to his thigh.

Evan deadlocked his left arm around Rowan's torso, pressed his lips against his head and pinned his right arm over his son's chest right across his collar bone. He made sure he wasn't holding too tight, but just enough so Rowan wasn't going to be able to get out of his hold.

"Hands please." (Y/n) smiled and held her hands out to Rowan, waiting patiently for him to place his palms in hers and squeeze.

"Quickly."

Evan's marching order was heeded and understood.

The doctor placed a tie strap around Rowan's right arm just above his elbow which made him frown, but he didn't move. As soon as his eyes locked on the needle, he was pushing back into Evan's chest like it would make a difference or allow him to escape.

(Y/n) held his hands tightly, trying not to hurt or bruise him and she pulled on his arms so they stayed straight and he couldn't hit out at them.

Once the needle was in his arm, Rowan screamed.

It was a horrid sound that mixed with the tears that began to stream down his face. He gasped, drawing in another gulp of air that he used to belt out another scream. His feet began to lift and swat down against the bed until Evan lifted his right leg and looped it on top of his son's legs, pinning them down to the bed.

Evan braced his chest but he gasped when Rowan slammed his head back into his chest. It was enough to wind him and he knew he would be bruised later, but he held strong and tensed up into Rowan. This was for his own good and it wouldn't hurt for long.

"Shh, buddy it's okay."

"Brave boy, you're doing so good." (Y/n) kissed the back of his hands but she bit down on her lip when Rowan screamed and tried to scratch her wrists. His nails pierced her skin deep enough to draw blood and he shook her arms until she pinned his arms down into Evan's thighs. He couldn't do that or he would move the needle imbedded into his elbow. They couldn't have him ripping a vein and getting blood everywhere, that would be extreme pain that Rowan wouldn't be able to cope with.

The doctor murmured "Almost there," as she switched the vile for another one. They had all agreed to do as many tests as they could, to make sure everything else was alright. They wanted to test for any infections other than pneumonia and make sure Rowan wasn't lacking any vitamins and blood tests would check his organs like his liver and kidney function.

It was safer to do more tests since Rowan couldn't tell them if he was in pain or if anything was wrong. This would keep him safe and healthy.

"Shit! Rowan- Rowan don't do that!"

Evan growled, closing his eyes and tipping his head back when Rowan sank his teeth down into Evan's forearm.

He'd never done that before.

He had hit, slapped and kicked both parents before when he was frightened or in a meltdown, but he had never bitten either of them. But Evan's arm was across the top of his chest. It was pinning him down, preventing him from moving. It was right there and with his legs pinned down and (Y/n) holding his arms, the only way Rowan could express his fright was to bite down on the arm beneath his chin.

"Rowan no!" (Y/n) fumbled to hold his hands in one so she could reach out for his chin. She wriggled his jaw and leaned closer to make him relent, if he locked his jaw he would bite Evan hard enough to draw blood and they didn't want that.

"Done."

The doctor was quick to pull away from the situation and as soon as she did, Evan loosened his grip. He held his arms out at his sides and moved his legs, letting Rowan scuttle from his arms and flop onto (Y/n)'s lap instead.

He screamed into (Y/n)'s knees, bashing his fists into her legs as he curled up over her lap, shaking and silently asking for comfort.

"Are you okay?" She looked across at Evan and shuffled closer while she lifted Rowan up and settled him on her chest so his head was on her shoulder.

Her eyes focused on Evan as he shook his wrist to get some feeling back but he let her reach out for his arm. He skimmed her fingers over the teeth marks in his forearm and cringed. He was going to have a large bruise there in a few hours, and those indents were sharp enough to draw blood wheels beneath the skin.

"That hurt more than a tattoo." Evan muttered under his breath, but there was no malice or annoyance in his tone. He understood Rowan's fright and seeing Rowan curl into (Y/n) told them he knew he had done wrong.

A bite mark was worth it when it meant making sure Rowan was going to be okay. It was more than worth it.

***

"Cap… you're here." Surprise flooded Evan's voice but he couldn't help the way his lips curved up into a smile when he looked down the corridor.

They were all here.

His team had come down to the hospital to see him- to see his family. They didn't have to do this. They had all done a long shift, they should be heading home to their own families and relaxing before their next shift. They didn't have to come down here and check on him.

"We don't wanna intrude, but you didn't call."

"We just want to know if everything's okay." Hen stuffed her hand in her back pocket and jutted one hip out to the side.

She still couldn't quite believe that Buck had his own little family. She pegged him as being in a relationship by the way he didn't talk about going on dates or meeting anyone and every time someone on a call asked him on a date, he just blushed and kindly turned them down.

And there was something natural and loving about the way Evan was with all the kids when they were out on a call. He knew how to calm them down and talk to them and get to their level, but no one guessed he had a wife and child hidden away at home.

"Cap said you've got a boy, why didn't you say anything? You know him and Chris will probably hit it off, right?" Eddie nudged Evan's arm and gave his shoulder a tap before he looked around, trying to guess which room held Evan's family.

It had been a long time since Eddie had been down in the children's ward of any hospital. He forgot how bright and colourful everything was here.

"I just wanted to find the right time to introduce you all… Rowan can get attached but, not everyone can understand him." It may take Rowan a while to get used to new people, but once he did, he loved them completely. Evan had to be sure the team could understand him and more importantly, be willing to take the time to learn his ways, before he introduced them.

"Is he okay?"

"Pneumonia, but he's on antibiotics, and he takes after me with his appetite, so he's gonna be fine. We can head home in the morning."

Rowan had no problems taking the liquid antibiotics the nurse brought round every few hours. And he had eaten all the dinner they gave him and he tried to take Evan's dinner too which showed he was feeling better.

He had taken a powdered inhaler, mainly because he thought it was a toy, and his breathing was evening out.

The only thing the nurses couldn't do was give him an IV drip or an oxygen clip in his nose. But they were satisfied that Rowan was drinking enough of the shakes and juices they gave him so he didn't need an IV. Once he was cleared in the morning, he would be going home with a weeks supply of antibiotics.

"Oh, Buck that's great." Bobby nodded and his smile was full of relief. He had been on edge all afternoon since Evan left. He just wanted to know everything was okay.

It made sense, all the pieces clicked into place after Evan left. His little ways, his habits, his nervousness about wanting to go home or when something seemed off. It all made sense when Bobby understood who Evan had waiting for him at home, and he wanted to check on Evan before he went home so he didn't have to worry all night.

"Do you wanna come and say hi?" Evan pointed behind him at the room he had been ready to enter before the team walked down the corridor. He had gone for a coffee for him and (Y/n) while Rowan was settled.

"You sure?"

"Come and meet my family." Evan opened the door and pushed in before anyone could give it a second thought.

He knew the team were going to be his second family from now on and he wanted them all to meet and get along. If they could love and embrace his wife and son like they welcomed him into their family, everything would be fine.

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