#Medical Emergency

[hayanwulf]

IronStrange:

One of them performs CPR on the other.

Fun fact: a defibrillator can’t actually revive a patient who ‘flatlined’.

Shocking, I know. I guess that’s modern media misrepresentation for you.

PS: At the cost of being a lil hypocritical.. the chance of getting an unshockable cardiac arrest (aka flatline or ‘asystole’) in our scenario, and then also surviving it with CPR, is ridiculously, laughably low. So, Stephen really shouldn’t have survived here, or flatlined in the first place... But hey, the movie itself threw realism out the window, so you can’t tell me shit.

The empty mug comically slipped from his grip, meeting the floor in an ear-deafening shatter.

Tony did not hear it, however, not over the pounding of heartbeat in his ears that immediately followed the almost-heart attack he got at the sight of a literal portal on fire inside his workshop, out of which stumbled his ex-fiance who he had not seen for eight months, hands clutching bloody chest, face drained of color and contorted in pain, steps staggering and making him crash against an equipment.

“The hallucinations are getting crazy,” Tony murmured.

“It’s not a hallucination, Boss,” FRIDAY announced, an urgency to her voice, pulling Tony out of his disbelief-induced state of shock — bless his AI. “Doctor Strange needs immediate medical attention! He’s been stabbed on the chest.”

Tony’s heart only lurched further at the last bit, but he forced his feet to move, shoved all thoughts to the back of his mind, beelining straight for his very mortally injured ex-fiance who was now leaning against god knew what, looking up at Tony with wild, terrified eyes.

“Cardiac Tamponade,” Stephen muttered, his voice weak with a bit of tremble to it, as Tony came to his side to carefully support him. “There’s blood in the pericardial—”

“Shut up!” Tony snapped, felt Stephen flinch against him, and immediately cursed himself for lashing out like that for no reason. He just.. god, this was the first time Tony was seeing Stephen after seven goddamn months, and it was to find him injured — mortally injured — and the first thing Stephen spoke to him was godforsaken diagnosis of how severely close to death he was.

He looked back at the portal once and suppressed a shudder, before shifting his focus back on Stephen to help lead him over to the small infirmary that was built right next to his workshop. “Just.. what the fuck, Stephen?”

Stephen winced, throwing a glance behind his shoulder at the portal, misunderstanding what Tony truly meant. “Sorry, that’s..” He made them pause and waved a hand at the tear in reality behind them.

Tony watched in awe for a moment as the portal quickly shrank and disappeared, remnants of glowing orange dust in the air the only evidence that something had even existed there a moment ago.

“What just—” Tony cut himself off. Not important right now.

He shook his head to dispel all other thoughts and focus solely on Stephen because oh god there was so much blood, Stephen was hurt, Stephen was dying—

“FRIDAY!” He called out, voice wavering with the panic that grew in him with each passing moment as he led Stephen to the adjacent infirmary.

“There is no medical staff at the Compound, Boss..”

“Why!?” Tony asked as his heartbeat spiked at the realization, even though he already knew why.

No one lived in the Compound anymore. All of the staff had been long since dismissed.

As he led Stephen towards the nearest operating table, Tony spared only a brief moment to wonder why, despite there being nobody and nothing in this large establishment, was it that Tony continued to stay here.

He helped Stephen lay flat on the operating table and began to undo.. whatever it was that Stephen was wearing, all the while chanting under his breath, “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this..”

“Tony,” Stephen spoke, grabbing hold of Tony’s wrist and looking him in the eye. “You can, I know it.”

Tony helplessly shook his head because he couldn’t. How could Stephen think that he could?

But, god, there was no time, no choices.

Stephen either had him, or nothing.

Tony felt the exact moment Stephen’s grip on his arm grew weak, saw his eyes flicker as he fought to keep them open.

“I trust you..” Stephen said weakly, and then passed out, his hand going limp over Tony’s.

Tony stared for a moment.

“Boss?”

FRIDAY’s voice pulled him out of his daze. He looked up at the heart graphs, then back at Stephen’s limp body, and then back up at the heart graphs to be absolutely extra sure he hadn’t lost Stephen yet. His mind was nothing but panicked haze and adrenaline, and logic fought emotion as he struggled to simply act, to do something because he was losing Stephen right in front of his eyes and oh god he needed to save him—

“FRIDAY, w-what—” He swallowed as his voice wavered, “what do I do?”

“Boss, you are close to having a panic attack—”

“And he’s close to dying, dammit! What do I do!?”

“He needs a pericardiocentesis.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Just get the needle, second shelf from the top.”

FRIDAY guided him through the surprisingly simple, yet downright horrifying procedure of stabbing a needle straight into Stephen’s heart to drain out the blood stuck in his pericardium, decompressing the pressure on his heart. There was a large stab wound on the left side of his chest. The sight of so much blood — of Stephen’s blood — made Tony feel lightheaded, its suffocating metallic scent tangible in his mouth, tasting like copper, all the while his eyes watched the screens of vitals with sharp attention, witnessing as Stephen’s heartbeat grew weaker and weaker, every digit of drop in the heart rate making dread pool heavier in his stomach, making his gut twist sickeningly.

He was holding Stephen’s delicate, precious life in his hands and god, it was terrifying.

How did you do this every single day? Tony silently asked the man lying unconscious in front of him, the back of his eyes stinging as tears formed in them.

If Stephen died now, here, like this, Tony could never forgive himself.

It was those thoughts that roared loud in his mind, in tandem with the beeping of the heart monitor, as he held onto the needle drawing out a nauseating amount of blood.

Even after most of the clogged blood from the walls had been drained out, Stephen’s heart remained weak, his low heart rate not recovering.

And then it happened, just as he pulled out the needle.

Tony’s entire world came to a halt at that sharp, ear-deafening beep of the heart monitor.

“You need to start CPR, now!” FRIDAY spoke up immediately, voice loud and clear over the shrill beep.

“I—the defibrillat—”

“That won’t work, you have to do CPR!”

Tony didn’t question her. He trusted his babygirl, trusted her to help him save Stephen’s life, and moved up to Stephen’s face, tilting his head up, chin held in his hand.

30 compressions, 2 breaths.

He would not lose Stephen. He would not.

Steadying his resolve as he inhaled a deep breath, he pinched Stephen’s nose and then dipped down to seal their mouths together, before blowing into Stephen’s mouth, watching from the corner of his eye as Stephen’s chest rose. He repeated the action, blowing a second rescue breath into Stephen’s mouth, and then quickly moved to his chest.

Taking care to not place his hands over the stab wound currently sealed with nanites, he pushed down forcibly at Stephen’s chest and set up a fast pace, counting the compressions in his head, acutely aware of his speed as well as the relentless beeping of the heart monitor that continued to echo in the background.

After 30 compressions, he repeated the two rescue breaths, and moved to performing compressions again.

Seven.. eight.. nine..

Tony froze when the incessant beeping of heart monitor stopped, to be replaced by a barely there pulse, the graph displaying a weak heart rhythm that was all over the place.

Tony could’ve cried right then. Maybe he did.

“Don’t stop,” FRIDAY’s voice instructed him, and so he didn’t, continuing with the chest compressions.

Two more cycles passed by the time FRIDAY said, “You can shock him now, Boss.”

Tony didn’t waste another second in fetching the defibrillator. He applied the conductive gel over the two paddles before placing one on the right side of Stephen’s sternum and the other below his left nipple — thank the science gods Stephen’s injury didn’t get in the way of their placement — and let FRIDAY decide the appropriate voltage. He pressed down hard on the paddles, steering clear of any other contact to Stephen’s body as the equipment delivered shock.

The heart rhythm graph reacted immediately, and Tony watched in awe as the entire electrical activity was reset and started producing a much healthier, stable rhythm. The pulse reacted to it, quickly gaining strength.

Tony’s knees nearly buckled from the sheer intensity of relief that washed over him, watching Stephen’s heart gain its strength back right in front of his eyes.

Stephen’s eyes flew open with a start and a gasp, and Tony was immediately by his side, the defibrillator abandoned. He panted, eyes glazed and darting wildly at first, until they slowly regained focus. Tony placed a hand on Stephen’s arm, wanting to help him, wanting to give him something to anchor himself to.

But mostly to reassure his own self that Stephen was still here.

“God, that feels weird in the astral plane,” Stephen murmured, his voice a little raspy, before a weak laugh escaped his lips.

“You think this is— wow.” Stephen was laughing. It hadn’t been five minutes since Tony had pulled this man out of the claws of death and now here he was, laughing. Tony felt his body vibrate, his inside burning up with this infuriating mix of anger and.. and.. ugh! He didn’t know.

Never had he felt something so strong, so nauseatingly gut-churning before.

Christ, was this the anger that Stephen felt every time Tony had looked death in the eyes and walked the other way with a victorious smirk on his lips? Was this the exasperation he had always seen in Rhodey’s face when Tony had dismissed his own near-death experiences? Was this the horror Pepper felt every time, as she watched Tony’s gruesome injuries be patched up by Stephen?

“Tony..?” Stephen called out in a small, uncertain voice, causing Tony to turn back to him. Whatever Stephen found there, it made him flinch. Good. After a second, he tentatively added, “I’m.. sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Tony snapped. “You.. you fucking walk out on me without ever telling anything, not even a message, a note, nothing. A-and the next time I see you, you’re walking out of a wormhole with.. with a stab on your chest, bleeding all over my lab. And you’re sorry. You fucking died, Stephen!”

Tony realized that he was visibly shaking now, his breath coming in hitches as thick tears streamed down his face. He sat himself down on the edge of Stephen’s table, wiping both his hands over his entire face, just trying to collect himself. God, it felt like someone was squeezing his heart trying to make it burst.

What would he have done, had Stephen died here today? Because of his inadequacy, because he didn’t know what to do, how to act fast, how to save the life of his fiance?

A shaky hand landed on his arm, making him remove his hands from his face to turn and look down at Stephen.

His ex-fiance had a remorseful look on his face as he interlocked their fingers.

“You did an amazing job, Tony. You saved me.”

Some of Tony’s tense energy melted, and he exhaled a shaky breath with closed eyes.

Stephen was alive. Stephen was here. Because Tony had managed to save him.

“Thank you,” Stephen added after a moment.

Tony opened his eyes and glanced at Stephen from the corner of his eye. “Fuck you.”

He felt it more than heard when Stephen’s chest rumbled with a laugh, and Stephen immediately winced.

Right, the wound must hurt like a bitch.

“Hold on,” Tony said and went to fetch a fresh needle and a vial of painkiller.

A minute later, he unceremoniously dumped the used needle on the appropriate bin as he spoke, “So what’s up with the glowing wormholes and your LARP wizard costume?” He leaned himself against an equipment near Stephen’s table, who was now sitting upright, putting the said LARP costume back on. “Or do we wanna talk about who wanted to roleplay too realistic murder mystery with you? Oh, I have a better idea. How about we start from where the hell did you fuck off to in Nepal?”

Stephen winced, and this time it wasn’t from the physical pain. “I shouldn’t have left you like that?”

“Yeah? Well, good thing that I’m used to being left behind by the people I trust,” Tony spoke, voice laced with venom. A memory flashed in his mind. Blood tainting the white of snow, the feel of metal growing lethally cold all around his body, the dead weight of a dead arc reactor sitting over his chest.

He suppressed a shiver, shoving the memory away.

Stephen, of course, knew nothing of the said memory, and a hint of confusion mixed with hurt flashed over his features. “I.. I’m really sorry, Tony. I have to go.”

Tony blinked, doing a double take of what he’d just heard. “I’m sorry, did you just say that you have to go?”

“Yes.”

“Where!?” Tony snapped, not quite able to hide the irritation in his voice.

Stephen bit his lower lip, expression twisting in contemplation, clearly weighing his options about what he wanted to tell Tony. He then sighed and looked up at Tony.

Tony didn’t know what answer he had expected to hear.

‘I moved on.’ ‘I have another life now, one without you.’ ‘Stop trying to follow me.’

But what he got wasn’t something he’d have expected to hear in a thousand years.

“I was learning magic in Nepal.”

It left him staring dumbfounded, simply trying to grasp what he was hearing.

Stephen sighed again, averting his eyes. “You saw the portal, right?”

Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling too dry as a new, terrifying kind of realization dawned on him. “Yeah.”

Stephen closed his eyes. “There are.. more like us. Good and bad. And the bad ones are going to try to destroy this world, with magic.” He got off the table then, getting on his feet, and stood a foot away from Tony, looking him in the eyes. “I have to go, Tony.”

Too much. This was all too much. First he watched Stephen stumble out of the goddamn portal, watched him die on the table, resuscitated him.. now he was learning that..

Magic.

Stephen was magic.

He’d been learning magic on Nepal, all this time, while Tony was left fumbling alone trying to gather even the tiniest scrap of information on this man, just enough to know that he was fine, that he was alive.

Tony was left with an odd mix of unadulterated fury and debilitating fear bubbling beneath his skin.

Hesitantly, Stephen reached out and took one of Tony’s hands in his shaky grip, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on the back on his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said one last time and let go of Tony’s hand, turning to walk away.

Tony caught his arm before he had fully turned, making him pause and look back at Tony.

“I’m coming too,” Tony declared, letting his determination shine in his tear-streaked eyes.

Stephen slowly shook his head. “There will be magic, Tony.”

Tony spread his arms, summoning Mark XLVII, which flew into the infirmary from his workshop, opened up and quickly wrapped itself around Tony’s body in one quick, flawless motion, only leaving his head uncovered. He could see it in Stephen’s awestruck expression that he was impressed by its smoothness and elegance.

“I’m coming,” Tony repeated, “and that’s final.”

Coming because he would not back down in the face of magic. Coming because he had a duty to this world.

Coming because he would not let Stephen walk into danger all by himself.

Stephen looked at him from one eye to the other, swallowed, and nodded once.

“Close your eyes, I have to open a portal.”

Tony did, trusting Stephen.

[samerpal]

Qusai Aburas, a diligent and beloved child, always shows a spirit of perseverance and determination. He loves life and playing, and he is keen on making new friends, spreading warmth and joy to everyone around him.

From the beginning of his life, Qusai faced significant health challenges. He suffers from heart problems, which required an open-heart surgery in his early years. The medical journey did not stop there, as he underwent two cardiac catheterization procedures and needs to have regular medical check-ups every six months to monitor his condition.

However, the circumstances of war turned Qusai’s life upside down. These difficult conditions added more challenges to the life of this perseverant child. As his father, I feel helpless in the face of these enormous challenges, and I hope with all my heart that my son’s condition does not worsen under these current circumstances.

Despite all the difficulties, Qusai remains a symbol of hope and courage. Seeing him continue to smile, play, and connect with his friends fills my heart with pride and hope. I wish that Qusai could live in a more stable Qusai Aburas, a diligent and beloved child, always shows a spirit of perseverance and determination. He loves life and playing, and he is keen on making new friends, spreading warmth and joy to everyone around him.

@fairuzfan @sar-soor @acepumpkinpatrick

@aces-and-angels @beesofink @taviamoth

@longlivepalestina @90-ghost

@palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe

[alwaysbewoke]

AGAIN?!?!?

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You-Part 2

Warnings: Ok...Cursing, pain,(IF YOU WANT IT TO BE KEPT A SURPRISE QUICK SHIELD YOUR EYES!!),medical emergency, Emergency medical procedures, mentions of blood, anger outburts, a lot of pain, DID I MENTION PAIN?!, mentions of panic attacks I believe.

Pairing: BangchanxReader

Characters: All of the Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Stay family y'all came in droves, I've had so much fun writing for SKZ so far and whatever you guys want to see, send it in an ask and I'll see when I can get to it, if the muses allow. There will be a Stray Kids Masterlist soon. I would always appreciate any feedback! And if you like Supernatural as well here's my masterlist!

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-Click Here

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Where we left off:

“Bin” Chan tried to say something but Changbin cut him off.

“NO! YOU DON’T GET A SAY HERE, CHRIS! YOU FUCKED UP ROYALLY AND NOW YOU DESTROYED YOUR FAMILY!” Bin was visibly shaking with rage as he walked up to Chan. Tears were starting to form in his eyes.

LeeKnow looked visibly confused as he looked to Bin, “What are you talking about?”

Bin threw the content of the card at Chan’s feet. 

Chan looked at what the card had in it, it was unmistakable.

Bin sounded broken as he responded, “Y/N is pregnant.”.

NOW:

Changbin's blood was boiling and yet he felt like collapsing. His lip twitched as he yelled, “You promised you’d protect her! That you’d do NOTHING to hurt her!”

Felix stared at Changbin. He has never seen him like this. He could see the conflict. Stuck between the need to comfort and protect you and the want and need to beat the pulp out of Chris.

He continued, his voice cracking,his brow knitted and lips twitching as he said, “ I told you that I love her, that you better take care of her. And you said that you’d NEVER hurt her.” His anger was winning as he shouted, “You didn’t just hurt her, you DESTROYED HER and ALL CHANCES of that child having a life where their mom & dad are still together!” 

He couldn’t decide whether to say it gently or smack him with the truth as he saw the honest ramifications of his friend’s actions. He chose the latter, “And let’s be honest, Chan. That’s if the baby makes it through this! With the amount of pain that Y/N/N feels right now. Not to mention that she put in months upon months of work planning YOUR anniversary celebration only to be stood up. Only to come home to see HER HUSBAND & HER BEST FRIEND in the bed that she sleeps in every night, having sex & talking about how INADEQUATE she is!”

Chan picked up the sonogram and said “I’ve got to fix this.”

Bin huffed, “There’s no fixing this Chris. She doesn’t tolerate assholes like you. You cheated and threw everything away! Now, I am going to take her to a hospital to check on the baby, YOU are going to stay the FUCK away from her! Is that clear?!”

While Bin was chewing Chris out, Han was packing everything he could think of. He had a feeling but he couldn’t put a name to it. Being the youngest in his family, he never really knew what being protective felt like. For some reason, from the second you came stumbling out of that room, he only had one objective, keep you safe. The drive to protect you so instinctual it wasn’t even a thought in his brain as much as it was an impulse.

Maybe it was that you both think so similarly. You had met the boys because of a photoshoot in New York. You were a photographer that was hired to do some promotional shots of them in the bustling Times Square. 

Han had a panic attack due to the massive amount of people and you took him aside and grounded him, got him to calm down and breathe. He didn’t know at the time but you yourself have extreme social anxiety and anxiety overall. That was when you and Han exchanged numbers. “Rain or shine, I’m here for you always,” you told him after the shoot was done. 

That was when Han told Chris why he was even able to complete the shoot and Chris really liked your shots, so he got your number as well. That eventually led to the boys begging you to become their personal photographer full time. Then you moved to South Korea to work with them, because taking a plane every few weeks was just too much.

Han was wondering how such a beautiful beginning ended up like this. How something so horrible could happen to someone so rare, talented, and sweet. When he was done packing, he ran to the car with 3 overnight bags, yours, Han’s, and Bin’s. He knows that they aren’t coming back for a while, knowing that you’ll need support more than anything. 

Not to mention Han can’t even look at Chan right now. Too many questions race through his head, but one look at you and all of it disappears, his Noona needs him. His niece or nephew needs him. That’s what matters.

Han told Innah to go back inside and tell Bin that you’re ready to go.

Bin shoved Chan out of the way and left the house. He was expecting you to be in the front seat but you were actually in the back with Hannie. You were crying on his shoulder as he tried to talk you through your deep breathing exercises. When you finally made it to the hospital, you were terrified.

You had tried to stay as calm as possible for the baby but seeing what you saw, realizing what he did & what you gave up for him. Then the reality of him doing this… and saying those things about you, it was all too much. 

Now that you were registered, Han and Bin had time to register the heartbreak they felt for you. They were completely in the dark about all of it. Probably because they would’ve beaten the crap out of Chan for even contemplating doing that to you, let alone following through with it. You are so sweet, kind, beautiful, and intelligent, all the members admired you so much. So, to see Chris doing this. It’s no wonder why they were seeing red right now. 

But they needed to put that anger aside and check on the baby and yourself. The wait was nerve-racking, especially at almost 2 hours staring at a clock and waiting. 

Bin only had time to think, and think he did. He couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it was for you, how he would’ve never dreamed of cheating on you. He would’ve spoiled you and made love to you every single day. He would’ve cried and spun you around seeing that positive pregnancy test. It made his heart hurt at the fact that you didn’t experience that.

His anger was quickly replaced with regret. He regretted not telling you his feelings. He regretted letting Chan anywhere near you. He also regretted the pang of hope in his heart at the possibility of having a chance with you. Thinking momentarily that it was wrong to even hope that you don’t reconcile, afterall you’re married, why put such negative thoughts into the universe, let alone feel hope at that thought? It was something he couldn’t help.

If anything, in his mind, he’d love to raise this baby with you and that truly scared him. Even more than the possibility of Chan fixing things. That meant that he was ready to sacrifice everything for you. And if he were to be honest with himself, he would’ve recognized that’s always been the case. 

Meanwhile, Chan had been blowing up Han and Bin’s phones non-stop, wanting updates, if his wife and child were okay. Are there any signs of stress? It got to a point that Bin excused himself just to personally tell him to fuck off. 

“What do you want?” Bin snapped.

“I want to know how my wife and child are.” Chan sounded terrified, but Bin couldn't care less, after all, it was his fault any of this happened. As a matter of fact, it only made his anger worse. Hearing him say, my wife and child. Like you were something to be owned. 

“You lost the privilege of calling her that, Chris.”

“I made a mistake, Bin. A mistake that I want to take back so please tell me where she is.” Bin could feel the anger rolling off of himself. This isn’t a mistake. A mistake is leaving the oven on, or forgetting your wallet at home. 

There are so many steps before having sex, the courting, taking every layer of clothing off. At the very least when going out 5 pieces of clothing need to come off. That’s just on him, not to mention she still has to undress. Then there’s getting into the bed,the foreplay, the kissing, the teasing, prepping her, then you have to get over her. All of this is before penetration is even in the mix. 

All of these chances to stop, look at a photo of his gorgeous wife and realize that everything Chris could possibly want, he already has. All of this is racing in Bin’s head as his blood continues to boil.

“We are still trying to calm her down and you think that I am going to let you anywhere near her? You’re out of your fucking mind.” Bin spat at him. “Every time you call, she starts to sob, you know why? Because she knows that the person she trusted, that she loved, that very same person is the same one that degraded, disrespected, and destroyed not only her but her child’s life. He also won’t get the FUCKING HINT that she needs to focus on HERSELF and HER CHILD! You are only making it worse.” 

Bin’s voice was so loud that every time the doors separating himself from you were even slightly ajar, you could hear Bin chewing Chan out.

“Bin, you have every right to be angry…” It was then that Bin could hear the phone being snatched and Minho was on the other end.

“We told him NOT TO CALL AND TO LEAVE HER ALONE! Two simple instructions Chan! You’re only going to stress her out more! You’ve done enough! Hey Changbin-ah, sorry. I’m going to call you on my phone and I’m taking his phone away now.”

“Thank you,” it was all he could say. At least he was getting some form of reprimand, given Bin would’ve loved to beat the crap out of him. But his thought was that Chris being verbally chewed out would have to do for now. 

A few seconds later Bin’s phone rang, “Hey”.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Minho asked, “And Hannie?”

Bin’s face fell as he looked back at the equivalent of his younger brother being so strong for you. 

“We are holding on. It’s hard not to cry with her, hyung.” Bin exhaled as he paced.

“Chan shut the fuck up! You’re the whole reason why she’s in this mess so shut it and sit down!” he heard Minho barking at Chan.

At that point, Bin heard a blood-chilling scream, and he shouted your name. When he busted through the doors he found you gripping your stomach. Your gray sweatpants now taking a bright red hue. 

“Bin? Changbin-ah!” he heard Minho but he couldn’t answer. His body was on autopilot as he ran to you.

You screamed for him, “Binnie..no no!” He handed the phone to Han as he started to yell for help. 

You held onto his hand as if he was your lifeline. It felt like something was ripping apart your insides, worse than any period that you have ever had.

Han put his ear to the phone once he registered that Minho was screaming on the other end of the line, “Minho.” Han was near tears. He knew exactly what this meant.

“Hannie what’s happening?” the alert in Minho’s voice was haunting. Somewhere in his mind he was hoping to hear “False alarm, everything’s fine!” What he actually heard gave him goosebumps as his heart dropped.

“I’ve gotta go.” That was all Han said as he hung up and went to you. 

“Hannie! No, no the baby Hannie.” She clutched onto him, praying, begging. Meanwhile, Bin tried to get help. She kept staring at her lap and Han tilted her head up.

“Focus on me, Y/N look at me, okay, keep breathing.” Han kept his voice even as he took his jacket off and put it on your lap, to block your view. “You just need to look at me and breathe.”

You clutched your stomach harder as you heard Bin arguing with the staff and the only thing Han heard was “Please wait.”

Han is not confrontational, but seeing you like this, he screamed “We can’t wait, she's bleeding and pregnant!” Han checked under the jacket, what was a patch of red was now dominating the gray… something was wrong. He looked at your face to find the color draining. He screamed to Bin, “Bin she’s bleeding out!”

Changbin ran to you and looked. He immediately asked you if you could walk. The minute you shook your head he gave Han the jacket and scooped you up. Now that he picked you up he noticed that you lost all rigidity in your body, you couldn’t even wrap your arms around his neck. When he looked down at you, your eyelids were fluttering as your free arm dangled.

Before this, he thought he knew what fear was… the sense of dread that filled him as he held you, that was fear. It felt as if he was the only person in the world who knew that the world was going to end. His world was going to end if you… 

“Han get the door,” Bin ordered as he walked to the door that led to the patient beds, nurses, and doctors. As soon as the door opened Bin went through.

Bin shouted as loud as he could, “I have a pregnant woman that’s bleeding out. Can we get some help here?!”

Immediately 3 nurses rushed to Bin and led him to a bed. “Y/N stay awake c’mon stay up,” He kept trying to keep you up the entire way to the gurney.

He didn’t notice it but blood was being trailed behind him. The only one who seemingly noticed was Han. 

As soon as Bin laid you on the gurney the nurses immediately started cutting off your pants while a doctor asked for a summation of what happened, your name, and anything else Han or Bin may have known.  

Bin immediately gave the doctor any information that he could find useful. You held onto Han and Bin with whatever strength you had. The nurses asked Han to move so they could get an IV in and he repositioned himself at your head to pet your hair back. The doctor draped a privacy sheet over your legs so that you could feel a little more comfortable. 

A few seconds into the exam the doctor yelled “Get anesthesia down here now! We need an epidural.” He looked at one of the nurses and said, “Prep for a D&C”. Then he said, “Get a vial for blood type testing and rush it, a transfusion set ready, IV open wide,” to everyone else in the room, the nurses rushed around them and the doctor said, “Ok Y/N can you hear me?”

You nodded, then screamed as your body involuntarily bore down. 

Both Han and Bin tried to comfort you as much as they could.

The doctor said, “There is going to be a lot going on here in a few minutes okay? You’re going to get a nerve block because what’s going to happen is going to be uncomfortable.”

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not. 

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

______________________________________________________________WANT MORE? TELL ME SO!

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[findchaos]

It turns out there's never a good time for a medical emergency or the costs associated with them (thanks, US!). K was hospitalized last week and we still need to pay for oral surgery to fix the root of the problem. TIA for any help and/or shares. ❤️‍🩹

🚨 gofund.me/05db79c2

[serxeri]

Earlier today, we had a medical emergency that landed us in a hospital's ER.

I appreciate any donations to help pay for the medical bill(s). (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

Kofi is for USD while GCash for Philippines Peso (PHP)

[mathraptor]

🦷EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS🦷

I have an abscessed tooth thanks to my dentist preforming a botched filling and have to get it removed ASAP. I have some of the money to take care of it but will be wiped out.

Taking all commissions, any donations are greatly appreciated.

ko-fi.com/mathraptor

[egostrawberry]

!URGENTLY NEED HELP, PLEASE READ!

Shortly after my aunt’s 50th birthday, her health rapidly began to decline. She was hit with a multitude of illnesses, the most worrying one being breast cancer. If you can donate any amount of money and/or share this post, it would help greatly towards her medical expenses. She’s the hard working mother and caregiver of her disabled daughter, and she deserves all the love and support in the world.

Like, reblog, share, donate- do whatever you can, please.

[papayanorrisxx]

Summary: It was the Silverstone GP, and you were invited by The years continue, and you watch the race drivers come and go. New generations take to the track, and some even remind you of Lando - a wild streak to their driving, a cheeky smile, a hint of recklessness in their eyes. It's in these moments that you feel closest to him - when you see his passion for racing live on in a new generation of drivers. the McLaren team to support your best friend, Lando Norris, at his home race. The atmosphere was electric as Lando dominated the track, leading the race by almost four seconds on lap 47. But in a heartbreaking twist, his aggressive driving caused him to lose grip, sending his car spinning into the barrier and bursting into flames.

Warnings: Graphic Injury Description, Major Character Death, Use of Y/N, Car Accident, Fire and Rescue, Medical Emergency, Emotional Distress, Romantic Confession, Mentions of Blood Loss, Physical Pain.

Note: Hi everyone! This is my very first fic/imagine, and I’m both excited and nervous to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for taking the time to read my work, and I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

It was the Silverstone GP, and you was invited by the Mclaren team to support your best friend, Lando Norris, at his home race.

It was lap 47 and Lando was leading the race and was almost 4 seconds ahead of everyone.

He took the corners fast.

To fast.

He looses grip of the wheels and his car spins around, hits the barrier and the car crashes into pieces and sets on fire.

Everyone in the garage is silent, when his radio comes on:

���Arg.. a… t-tell h-h-her I love her-r”

You hear the call, and your heart skips a beat, instantly fearing the worst. You had to see him, and tell him your feelings before it was too late.

After a few moments, the firefighters finally managed to get the fire under control. Then, they take Lando out of his ruined car. Luckily, he was alive and awake, though he was bruised, bleeding and clearly in pain.

Lando is quickly put into the Medical Car and driven into the Medical Center.

You don't hesitate and run into the Centre, right behind Lando, ignoring everyone that tries to prevent you from going.

The medics place Lando on one of the beds and check on his condition. He's conscious and lucid, but very badly injured. His arms and legs are covered in deep scratches and cuts, his nose is bleeding heavily, and he's coughing up blood.

The medics are checking his vitals, and the doctor says that "He's stable, but he's lost a lot of blood."

Lando lies there, pale and shaken from shock and pain. He looks around and suddenly sees you, standing next to his bed. His eyes soften and he tries to smile, but it turns into a grimace of pain.

"Y/N," he croaks. "You're… here."

You take his hand and hold it firmly in yours.

"Of course I am, idiot," you choke out, your eyes filling with tears.

A weak smile tugs at his lips. "I guess.. I made quite a scene, huh?”

He winces and coughs, blood staining his chin.

You press a tissue to his chin, stemming the blood flow.

"Don't talk, stupid," you say, though your voice trembles. "You need to save your strength."

He lets out a soft chuckle before wincing again. "I must look like a mess, huh?"

The doctors and paramedics are still moving around him, checking his vitals and giving him painkillers.

"You look like a right idiot," you tease gently. "But you're still hot as hell."

Even though he's in pain, he laughs softly, wincing again. "Always know what to say, huh?"

"Yeah, well," you say, "someone's gotta tell you what an idiot you are."

You squeeze his hand, your heart aching at the sight of him so beaten up.

He looks more serious now, his voice a raspy whisper. "Y/N... Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," you answer, leaning closer. "You can ask me anything."

He lets out a shaky breath, his hand squeezing yours tightly. "I... I..." He coughs again, the effort clearly taking a toll on him. "I want... to... tell you something... important."

Tears well in your eyes, sensing the gravity of the moment. You gently stroke his hand, encouraging him to speak. "Go on," you say softly.

He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength. When he opens them again, his gaze is fixed on you, intense and unwavering. "Y/N... I... I love you. I've loved you for a long time. And I'm sorry it took an accident for me to finally say it."

Your breath catches in your throat, tears streaming down your face. You never dared to hope he felt the same way.

"Lando..." you whisper, your voice choked. "I... I love you too. I've loved you for so long..."

Despite the pain he is in, his face lights up with a mixture of relief and joy. "You do? Really?" He asks, as if he doesn't quite believe it.

You nod tearfully. "Yes, you idiot. Of course I do. I've been in love with you for years. You're all I think about, day and night."

His gaze softens, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Years, huh? I guess I was a bit oblivious, huh?"

He tries to chuckle again, but devolves into another coughing fit.

You gently shush him, wiping the blood from his chin again. "Stop it, you idiot," you say, your heart overflowing with love and worry. "You need to conserve your strength."

He nods weakly, the coughing subsiding. His eyes never leave yours, holding onto your hand like a lifeline. "I wish I could hold you right now," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"You will soon," you promise. "Just hang on for me. You'll be okay."

Your heart aches at the sight of him so vulnerable, but you also feel a wave of love and protectiveness wash over you.

"I'm scared," he admits so quietly you almost don't catch it. He swallows hard. "Everything hurts so much... I don't... I don't want to leave you."

Your heart breaks at his words. "You're not going to leave me," you say firmly, your own fear and worry bubbling up. "You're going to be fine. You're too stubborn to die on me. You hear me?"

He manages a weak grin. "Yeah, I'm pretty stubborn, aren't I? Lucky for you."

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Just... Just promise me... you won't leave me, okay? Stay with me. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," you say fiercely, brushing some hair away from his forehead. "I'll stay right here, by your side, no matter what."

He lets out a shaky sigh of relief. "Thank you," he whispers. He opens his eyes, looking at you with all the vulnerability you've never seen in him before. "I love you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You squeeze his hand, your heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. "I love you too," you say again, your voice filled with tears. "We're going to get through this together, okay? You and me."

A single tear escapes the corner of his eye, and he nods. "You and me," he repeats hoarsely, clinging to your hand as if it's the only thing keeping him grounded.

You continue to hold his hand, offering him comfort and assurance. The sound of the medical personnel moving around the room, the beep of the monitors, and the low hum of the air conditioning fill the background.

Finally, a doctor approaches, a serious expression on his face. "We need to transfer him to the hospital now," he says. "Can you step aside, please?"

Reluctantly, you let go of Lando's hand, knowing he needs to be taken care of. The doctors move in, quickly attaching monitors and preparing him for transport.

You take a step back, watching as they carefully lift Lando onto a stretcher. His eyes find yours, pleading you not to leave.

You force a reassuring smile, your hand still outstretched towards him. "I'll meet you at the hospital," you say softly, your voice trembling.

Lando nods, his hand clenching around yours one more time before they wheel him out of the treatment room and to the waiting ambulance outside.

The ride to the hospital feels like an eternity. You follow the ambulance closely, anxiety coursing through your veins. The thought of losing Lando is too painful to bear.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Lando is immediately taken to the Emergency Department. You are directed to the waiting area where other anxious families are waiting for news.

The hours crawl by, your mind consumed with worry and fear. The doctors and nurses come in and out, but they won't let you see Lando.

Finally, a doctor approaches you, a serious expression on his face. "Can I speak to you in private for a moment?" he asks.

Your heart sinks, fearing the worst. You nod wordlessly and follow the doctor to a quiet corner of the waiting area.

The doctor takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. "We've done everything we can for Lando," he begins, his voice solemn. "However, his condition is critical. The impact from the crash has caused severe internal bleeding and damage to his organs."

Your heart feels like it is being crushed as you struggle to comprehend the doctor's words. "But... but he's going to be fine, right?" you manage to ask, your voice trembling.

The doctor looks at you kindly, but his expression is filled with sorrow. "I'm afraid it's not looking good," he says gently. "We're doing everything possible to stabilize him, but the next few hours will be critical. There's a chance he may not make it."

Those words feel like a knife to the heart. You can't fathom a world without Lando, your friend, your love, your everything.

Tears stream down your face, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. "I need to see him," you whisper, your voice desperate. "Please, let me see him."

The doctor regards you for a moment, understanding the desperation in your voice. "I'll see what I can do," he says, "but I must warn you. He's in a very critical state, and it may be distressing for you to see him."

You nod, knowing that nothing can brace you for the sight of Lando in such dire condition.

The doctor leads you down a sterile hallway, the click of your footsteps echoing in your ears. The sound seems to mirror the beating of your heart, a mixture of fear and hope.

The doctor pushes open a heavy door, revealing a private room where Lando lies motionless on a bed surrounded by medical equipment. The steady beep of monitors, the sound of the ventilator, and the faint hiss of machines fill the room.

The sight of him is shocking. His face is pale and battered, tubes and wires connecting him to various machines. A large bandage covers his head, and there are numerous scratches and cuts on his exposed skin. The ventilator helps him breathe, pumping air into his lungs in a regular rhythm

A sob catches in your throat as you rush to his bedside, taking his hand in yours. It's ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth you're used to.

You brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers trembling. "Lando," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I'm here. I'm here, love."

There is no response, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest, each breath assisted by the ventilator.

You collapse into the chair beside his bed, your hand still holding his. The enormity of the situation floods over you, the fear and helplessness consuming you.

Hours pass, the only sound in the room the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the steady hum of the ventilator. The doctors and nurses come in periodically to check on his vital signs, but each update is laced with the same ominous words.

Time seems to warp in this sterile room. The hours blend together, the waiting is endless, and the fear only grows stronger.

You refuse to leave Lando's bedside, your hand constantly holding his. Every now and then, you whisper words of love and encouragement to him, hoping that somewhere deep within his unconsciousness, he can hear you.

The doctors and nurses occasionally urge you to get some rest, but you shake your head stubbornly. You can't even think about leaving his side, even for a moment. The thought of missing something, of not being with him in his last moments, is unbearable

Night falls, the room now dimly lit only by the machines and the soft glow of the overhead light. You're sitting beside Lando, your eyes fixed on his still form.

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the machines falters. The heart monitor begins to give erratic beeps, the line on the graph fluctuating wildly.

Panic seizes your heart, your grip on Lando's hand tightening. "Lando... Lando, no, please," you whisper, pleading with him to hold on.

Doctors and nurses burst into the room, urgently checking each of the monitors and machines attached to Lando.

They work frantically, adjusting dials and administering medications, but the heart monitor continues its erratic pattern. The atmosphere in the room is charged with tension and desperation.

One of the doctors looks at you, their eyes expressing a message you don't want to hear. They begin to prepare resuscitation equipment

"No," you whimper, clutching Lando's hand tightly. "No, he can't leave me. He can't. Lando, please, don't leave me."

The doctor approaches you, their expression compassionate but firm. "I'm so sorry," they say, their voice barely above a whisper. "You need to step back for a moment, please."

Reluctantly, you force yourself to release Lando's hand. Stepping back, you watch your world fall apart. The doctors and nurses rush into action, administering CPR and using the defibrillator in a desperate attempt to restart his heart.

The next few minutes are a blur, the room filled with the sounds of beeping machines, shouted orders, and the urgent voices of the doctors and nurses as they continue their resuscitation efforts.

Each passing second feels like an eternity. Your heart aches as you watch the doctors working, desperately trying to save Lando.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, one of the doctors looks at the heart monitor. The rapid, erratic beats begin to slow, replaced by a flat line, a grim confirmation of what you dread most.

The room falls silent, the only sound the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft whir of the ventilator.

You stand frozen to the spot, your world collapsing around you, a wave of numbness washing over you. The doctors and nurses look at each other, their expressions heavy with sadness and sympathy.

The doctor walks towards you, a heavy sadness in their voice. "I'm so sorry," they say, their voice barely above a whisper. "He's gone."

A sharp,noise escapes from somewhere deep within you. It's a sound of unbearable pain, a sound of a heart breaking into fragments.

You stagger forward, reaching Lando's bedside. He lies there, pale and still, a shadow of the vibrant man you once knew. You reach out, your trembling fingertips tracing the features of his face.

The reality of his loss slams into you with the force of a tidal wave. The tears you had been holding back now stream down your face without restraint, your body racked with sobs.

You take Lando's lifeless hand in yours, clenching it like a lifeline. "No, no, no…" you whisper, your voice hoarse and broken. "Not like this. It can't end like this."

The room is heavy with a quiet, almost reverential atmosphere. The medical staff step back, leaving you alone with Lando in the silence.

You bend over, resting your forehead against your intertwined hands, the tears dripping onto Lando's motionless chest.

Your mind is flooded with memories - laughter, shared dreams, moments of joy, and the love that burned like a flame between the two of you.

You struggle to comprehend a world without Lando, a world without his smile, his laugh, his presence. The pain is overwhelming, tearing at your heart like a relentless storm.

"Please," you sob, your voice breaking. "Please, come back to me. I can't do this without you. I need you."

But the room remains silent, the machines now stilled, the heart monitor a constant, cruel reminder of the absence of the life it once measured.

As word of Lando's passing spreads, the racing community comes together in grief. The Formula 1 drivers, his teammates and rivals alike, reach out to you, offering their sincere condolences and reminiscing about the times they shared with Lando on and off the track.

At Lando's funeral, numerous Formula 1 drivers arrive to pay their respects. Some, like Daniel and Carlos, share heart-wrenching stories of their time as his teammates, reminiscing about his talent, passion, and infectious laughter. Charles tearfully speaks of the brotherly bond he had with Lando, a friendship that went beyond the race track.

George Russell delivers a deep speech, remembering Lando's determination and unwavering spirit, recalling races where they battled head-to-head.

Finally, you take the stage. Your voice quivers as you speak about Lando's love and loyalty.

As you stand beside Lando's coffin, your voice trembles with emotion as you address the mourners. "Lando was not just a racing talent," you begin, your eyes fixated on his face for a moment. "He was a friend, a companion, and above all, my true love."

You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before continuing, "Lando's laughter could light up any room, and his determination on the track was second to none. He lived life with a passion that few possess, and his spirit was as bright as the stars in the sky."

You force yourself to continue through tears. "But what defined Lando the most, what made him truly special, was his heart. His love for racing, his loyalty to his friends, and his selfless care for those he loved. He gave so much, always putting others first, and his presence in our lives left an indelible mark."

You look around the room, meeting the eyes of those gathered, their faces reflecting the same pain and love you feel. "Lando leaves behind a void that cannot be filled and memories that will last forever. He will always be with us."

Your voice breaks as you force out the last few words. "Goodbye, my love. I'll carry you in my heart always."

You step back, wiping away tears as the room falls silent, the weight of your words settling over everyone present.

The drivers you mentioned before, along with others like Lewis, Max, Pierre, and Oscar, take turns coming up to you, one by one. They offer words of comfort, stories of their time with Lando, and their own heart-wrenching farewells.

Some, like Daniel and Carlos, share stories of Lando's pranks and mischief, remembering his ability to find humor even in the most intense moments. Charles shares more intimate memories, moments of vulnerability and support, revealing the depth of their friendship.

George, his voice choked with emotion, tells you about the countless hours spent together, training, gaming, and discussing racing. He recalls Lando's advice and the friendly competitions that always pushed them to be better.

The weight of their shared grief hangs heavy in the air, but you can also feel the love and respect they all had for Lando. They are a band of brothers, bonded by the common thread of racing, and in this moment, you are all bound together by the memory of one extraordinary person.

The days that follow are a blur. You go through the motions as best as you can - planning the funeral, answering calls from well-wishers, and trying to make sense of the void that Lando's absence has left in your life.

It's during the quiet moments, though, that the reality of your loss hits you the hardest. The late nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the moments when you reach for your phone to call Lando before remembering he's gone, the silence in your once-shared home.

Months pass, and you find yourself at the Silverstone track where Lando had his accident. Today, they are unveiling a memorial to honor his memory.

The track is bustling with attendees, including Formula 1 drivers, racing staff, and fans who had been affected by Lando's sudden passing. The air is thick with a mix of anticipation and sadness.

You stand among the crowd, your heart heavy as you watch the preparations for the unveiling. A podium is set up near the track, and a large, covered structure nearby awaits the reveal.

The moment arrives when the officials prepare to unveil the memorial. The cover is pulled away to reveal a life-sized statue of Lando, frozen in the moment of triumph, a checkered flag in his hand, and a wide, joyful grin on his face.

A collective gasp rises from the crowd, followed by applause and scattered cheers. The statue is a beautiful tribute, a forever testament to Lando's passion and achievements.

The drivers who had spoken at his funeral are also in attendance. They approach the statue one by one, placing their hands on it, as if trying to connect one last time with their fallen friend.

Daniel lays his palm on the statue's outstretched hand, his eyes fixed on the life-like features. Carlos pats the statue's back, reminiscing silently about the memories they shared.

Oscar stands in front of the statue for a long moment, his fingers stroking the flag in Lando's hand. It's as if he holds a conversation with Lando, a silent one no one else can hear.

Then, George steps forward. His gaze remains on the statue's face for a moment before he rests his forehead against the chest. It's a gesture of brotherly love and farewell, his last words to Lando whispered into the air.

Finally, it's your turn. You approach the statue with a mixture of trepidation and nostalgia. As you touch the cold, stone surface, the pain of loss and the love you once shared with Lando flood back.

You let your fingers trail over the lines of his face, caressing softly. Memories flash before your eyes - his smile, his laughter, his touch. You murmur words of love, apologies, and the thousand "I wish" and "what if" phrases that have plagued your thoughts since his passing.

You step back, feeling the weight of his absence in your bones. But in the quiet strength of the statue, you also find a bit of solace, a permanent tribute to the man you loved so fiercely

The days and weeks that follow the unveiling of the memorial are both easier and harder. Easier, in a way, since the grief has settled into a constant dull ache, a part of your daily life. Harder, because the memories are stirred

It's the little things that hit you the hardest - a song on the radio that reminds you of a road trip you took together, a race on TV that you used to watch with Lando, a car that looks like his.

The seasons change, and life's rhythm is dictated by the Formula 1 calendar. With each race, you feel the absence of Lando's presence more deeply. The races that he should have been a part of, the podium celebrations he should have been on, the laughter in the paddock that should have been there.

As time continues to pass, life slowly begins to take on a new rhythm. The pain of losing Lando never entirely vanishes, but you find a way to honour his memory in your own way.

You keep his memory alive by sharing stories about him with friends, family, and anyone who cares to listen. You tell about his love for racing, his passion, his loyalty, and his unwavering spirit. You tell about the way his eyes lit up when he won a race, the way he laughed when you shared a joke. Through these stories, his memory lives on, a vibrant, indelible part of your life.

You start a foundation in Lando's name, supporting young drivers with potential who lack the means to make it to F1. It's a cause close to your heart, and it's a way to carry on Lando's love for the sport and ensure that other aspiring drivers get a chance, just like he once did.

Over time, the pain starts to dull, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance. You don't forget Lando, but your memories of him don't hurt as much as they used to. The emptiness in your heart isn't as sharp, and you can sometimes even smile when you think of him.

The track where Lando had his accident becomes a sanctuary of sorts for you. You visit there often, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. You sit beside his statue, listening to the silence, sometimes speaking to him, sometimes just sitting quietly beside his memory.

The years continue, and you watch the race drivers come and go. New generations take to the track, and some even remind you of Lando - a wild streak to their driving, a cheeky smile, a hint of recklessness in their eyes. It's in these moments that you feel closest to him - when you see his passion for racing live on in a new generation of drivers.

The End

[captain-of-the-roses]

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[alwaysbewoke]

[heardatmedschool]

“When things get ugly, ask for help, even if there’s no one there that knows more than you, so you’ll at least have an extra clear mind.”

[runawaydyer]

hello I've been wanting to make this post on here but I've been too busy to make a proper serious post, I need help. my mother has recently been diagnosed with end stage cirrhosis, neumonia, and c0vid 19. I've spoken to her since the making of this go fund me and her consciousness is wearing thin. she's convinced she can leave and I want to do everything I can to go see her and help so that she can get the treatment she needs without a fight. I need help with medical and travel funds and anything helps including sharing! so please support me if you can.

[rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world]

[moody-alcoholic]

Formal dinner

This is just the first draft of a weird idea that popped in my head...

I started re-watching gray's anatomy and I think that's mostly to blame... Especially this scene. I also needed an excuse to practice writing from Simons POV so here you go.

Summary: Simon x OC 2k words. Formal military dinner gone wrong..? CW: alcohol, serious asthma attack, mentions of medication, medical emergency, medical inaccuracies. First draft, honestly I just love writing medical stuff.

Masterlist

Enjoy <3

“Well well, look at you all smart in officer formals.” I heard Rosaly’s voice behind me. I turn to see her wearing a long blue dress that seemed to be pulling in all the right places.

“Very nice.” I say she spins around I see how low cut the back is as she adjusts the clasp on her clutch. Her hair was done up too curled and I couldn’t ignore the light layer of makeup on her face making her lips look shiny, hiding the heavy bags under her eyes. I find myself smiling, I want to reach out and touch her. She looks up at me taking a step closer quickly looking around then leaning into me.

“I do have a thing for men in formals.” She purrs in my ear. I let out a breath as she giggles moving back. I can see the cheeky grin on her face. It’s almost too much, I want to pull her back up to my room and skip the festivities, I didn’t want to be here and I know she didn’t either. Price had to practically order her to come. ‘Set a good example as we should 141 is an important unit, there will be a lot of important people there.’ People started passing us through the main doors leading in the hall where the event was taking place, the hotel was grand, just like the last dinner event Price dragged me too. This is where he networks gets to gush about 141 to everyone sometimes picks up a medal at the end, what he’s really for though are the jobs he can get for us.

“Rosie?” I hear someone say, she turns around to see someone coming towards her.

“Mike, hey.” She says, I remember him he was the trauma surgeon at Gibraltar. He introduces the woman looped on his arm as his girlfriend and makes small talk with her. I look around for Price and Gaz they should be here by now I look down at my watch it’s almost 7. I look back up seeing Mike say his goodbyes going through into the room, Rosaly follows after them and for a second I look confused until she comes back out with two champagne flutes.

“You’re going to need this.” She says handing me one and sipping the other. I already felt exposed, such a formal event meant I couldn’t get away with my normal get up, when Price broached the subject about the mask he knew I wasn’t going to like it. ‘It’s all friendlies, they won’t even remember by the end of the night everyone will be pissed anyway.’ I didn’t want to take the chance, the whole point is anonymity, besides being in a room with potentially 100’s of people, no thank you I would much rather be Ghost not Simon, we settled on a black face mask covering my nose and mouth.

“Williams you clean up nicely.” I hear Price coming down the corridor with Gaz at his side.

“Looking sexy Gaz.” Rosaly says finishing her drink, he laughs.

“Could say the same about you too.” Gaz walks up to us hugging Rosaly. Price adjusts his beret. I subconsciously touch mine, it’s been a while since I have had to wear it, I wouldn't be surprised if it was lopsided already, I nod at him his is fine, he smiles nodding back at me. Only officers are required to wear formals since they’re the ones getting all the awards, everyone else gets to dress fancy, I cant help but wonder if Rosaly chose a blue dress on purpose or not. I hand my glass to her as she takes it out my hands.

“You’re drinking all ready?” Gaz laughs taking the full glass out her hands.

“I can’t help it I’m just so excited to listen to 2 hours of speeches form the same 3 people.” I smile at her sarcasm. Price shakes his head and leads us in the room. The table plan has already been set out and we find our way to our table and sit down. Rosaly waves a server over ordering drinks, as the speakers make their way to the stage.

The first speaker goes through the usual spiel of welcoming everyone and guests then going through the running order for the night. I look round the room as the waiter comes back with a try of drinks, there are a lot of people every table is full, sometimes I catch eyes wondering on us then quickly looking away. Everyone starts clapping and I join in watching a video start to play on the projector. With the lights off I sip my drink, letting it burn my throat and warm my belly. I look over at Price and Gaz watching the video, Rosaly is a little in front of me to my right she’s tapping her fingers on the table. I want to reach out and grab her hand, not here though. I wonder if Price is up for any awards I forgot to ask him. The rest of the speeches drone on, a few people get awards for bravery and what not. Some people get promotions, nothing higher then captain though, they would be done in a separate special ceremony. I recognise some of the people from years past, some I think I recognise but I’m not sure. Price is always introducing me to so many people I forget who I’ve met and who I haven’t. When the last speeches are done there is an interval break. Rosaly excuses herself to the bathroom and I turn to Gaz as he taps me on the shoulder.

“Is Price up for any awards?” Gaz asks me quietly.

“I don’t know I forgot to ask.” I admit finishing my drink. Price stands up to greet someone turning to introduce us.

“Where is Williams?” He asks as we stand up to shake his hand.

“Bathroom.” I say.

“Your new medic right?” The man asks Price who nods.

“I heard she’s a handful.” He chuckles we all join in, but I give Price a look. ‘What the hell does that mean?’ He shakes Price’s hand and walks away again, after a few more minutes and a few more people coming to say hi to Gaz and Price, Rosaly comes back with a tray of drinks. I shake my head at her taking mine off the tray.

“You should slow down Williams,” Price says.

“It’s an open bar, besides what are supposed to do other then get royally shit faced, there is a reason you marked tomorrow as recovery on the calendar.” Price shakes his head smiling but takes the drink. Rosaly places the empty glasses on the tray and a waiter comes and takes it. She turns to my sipping her drink.

“Did I miss anything?” She asks.

“Meeting Price’s friends.” Gaz said, she smiled her eyes finding their way to me. I held her gaze, she did look so pretty in that strapped dress they way it brings out the colour in her eyes, her cheeks are rosy, she looks flushed, relaxed enjoying herself. She plays with her necklace, I don’t think I even recognised it until now. It’s beautiful though, silver and diamonds but simple.

“Excuse me!” I hear the squeaking of the mic and look back at the stage. I see a man nervously rubbing his hands. “I know this is a bit of a strange request but are there any doctors here?” I look down at Rosaly who has shrunk down in her chair sipping on her drink. There is murmuring round the hall. Rosaly is almost hiding under the table now her eyes flicking over to Gaz and Price.

“We’ve got a medic over here!” Price calls. I see her close her eyes sighing and straighten up.

“Price I’m drunk.” She protests.

“Everyone is drunk Williams.” Before I know it there is a group of people making their way towards us. We all get up as the crowd parts showing a woman gripping her chest, she is clearly struggling to breath her face bright red. The scene makes Rosaly instantly change, she’s not drunk anymore, she puts the glass down on the table leading the woman to a chair.

“She has asthma we’ve tried an inhaler it’s not working.” Someone says. Handing the blue inhaler to Rosaly who shakes it.

“Have you called an ambulance?” She asks, the woman immediately starts to panic frantically shaking her head.

“She keeps refusing.” The same person says. “I didn’t want to make her panic.” Rosaly turns to us she throws me her clutch bag.

“Price call an ambulance, LT my trauma bag is in my room, go now!” She snaps. I don’t wait pushing through the crowd, I break into a sprint when I get out the main hall, her room is on the second floor I fumble through her bag looking for the keycard. I press it into the door rushing in. I see her bags at the foot of her bed grabbing the cammo backpack with the cross on the back. Why does she even have this with her? I don’t have time to question it as I run back out the room flying down the stairs. When I make it back to the main hall the crowd has gotten bigger. I push my way through I see Mike here now stroking the woman's back she looks worse Rosaly is trying to tell her to breath as I drop the bag at her feet. She lets go of the woman's arm throwing the bag open taking out a syringe of something securing a needle on it.

“Ambulance ETA?” She asks.

“15.” Price calls back. I watch as she rubs the woman's side with something.

“Sharp scratch.” She says injecting it in. “8:12.” She says starting the timer on her watch.

“Keep taking those deep breaths.” Mike says rubbing her back. I watch as Rosaly carefully recaps the needle, then turning her attention back to the woman. She attaches something to her finger, after a few seconds it starts beeping rapidly. The woman seems to be calming down Rosaly rubs her legs looking at her face. She takes a big breath in and I see her relax dropping her hand from her chest, she looks like she’s going to cry. Rosaly stands up stopping her timer.

“Thank you,” The woman says between breaths. Rosaly rubs her arm bending over her to see her.

“You’re okay don’t try and talk, keep taking those deep breaths.” She nods.

“I feel weird.” She says grabbing her chest again.

“You will for a bit it’s the adrenaline.” Rosaly explains, I hear movement behind me and see the crowd separate to the the paramedics through. Rosaly explains the situation, and convinces the woman to go with them at least to get some oxygen through her lungs. Mike goes to stand next to Rosaly as the woman is led away. The crowd starts to disperse.

“I can’t believe you wanted to trach her,” she laughs playfully nudging him.

“What would you have done if the adrenaline didn't work?” He asks.

“I would have pushed another adrenaline,” She explains.

“And then?” He asked crossing his arms.

“Then intubation.” She mirrors his body language.

"With 2 adrenaline's in her system?”

“Oh I’m sorry in which universe is an awake tracheostomy better then intubation?” She tilts her head waiting for a response.

“Won’t make a difference if she’s not breathing.” He says back. I can tell this is riling them both up, the mix of adrenaline and alcohol is not helping, look over at Price.

“This is the problem with you Mike all you want to do is cut, you’re a surgeon first.” She bends down picking her bag up.

“Okay calm down you two,” Price intervenes before Mike can reply. “She’s alive and she’s okay, lets enjoy the rest of the night.” Rosaly sighs and heads back to the table throwing her bag underneath the table picking up her drink. I see her hand shake as she sips it. She’ll never admit it but she loves this, the high of an unexpected medical emergency. That’s why she has the bag with her, for moments like this. She turns to look at me, I see the shine in her eyes, the fire in her belly, she smiles at me. I smile back I know she can tell her hand reaches out and squeezes mine. God I can’t wait to rip that dress off her later.

I cannot wait to start med school