#Quick Ambulance service

[weareairrescuers]

Reliable Air Ambulance Services in Dibrugarh

When medical emergencies strike, every second counts, especially in remote areas like Dibrugarh, where access to specialized healthcare facilities can be limited. Air Rescuers, a trusted name in air ambulance services, offers reliable and swift air medical transport in Dibrugarh, ensuring patients receive timely and critical care. With a proven track record of saving lives, Air Rescuers is committed to providing safe, efficient, and compassionate air ambulance services that families can rely on during their most urgent moments.

Why Dibrugarh Needs Reliable Air Ambulance Services

Located in the northeastern region of India, Dibrugarh serves as an important medical hub for surrounding towns and villages. However, in critical cases where advanced treatment is required, patients often need to be transferred to larger hospitals in cities like Kolkata, Delhi, or Guwahati. That’s where Air Rescuers’ air ambulance services become a lifeline, providing fast and reliable transportation to top-tier medical facilities across India.

Whether it's a medical emergency evacuation, a planned transfer for ongoing treatment, or the need for a critical care unit in transit, Air Rescuers ensures that the patient receives the highest standard of medical attention while in the air.

24/7 Availability and Quick Response

Emergencies don’t wait, and neither does Air Rescuers. Their 24/7 emergency air ambulance service in Dibrugarh guarantees immediate response to all urgent requests. With round-the-clock availability, they are always prepared to mobilize quickly, ensuring the patient is airborne and en route to the necessary medical facility as fast as possible. This quick response can make a life-saving difference in critical cases, especially when time is of the essence.

Advanced Medical Care Onboard

One of the hallmarks of Air Rescuers is their fully equipped air ambulances, designed to handle the most serious medical conditions during flight. These aircraft are outfitted with the latest ICU facilities, including ventilators, defibrillators, cardiac monitors, and other life-support equipment. The medical staff onboard—comprising experienced doctors, nurses, and paramedics—are trained to manage emergency medical situations and provide continuous care from takeoff to landing.

For patients being transferred from Dibrugarh to major hospitals, this means receiving uninterrupted, high-quality medical attention throughout their journey, ensuring stability and the best chance of recovery.

Cost-Effective Air Ambulance Solutions

Medical emergencies often come with financial strain, and Air Rescuers understands this challenge. They offer cost-effective air ambulance services in Dibrugarh without compromising on quality. With transparent pricing and no hidden costs, families can rest assured that they are receiving top-tier care at a fair price. Air Rescuers also works with patients and their families to create the most affordable flight routes and medical transport options, keeping the financial burden manageable during difficult times.

Seamless Transfers Across India

With a strong network of partnerships and coordination with hospitals across India, Air Rescuers makes sure patients from Dibrugarh are transferred seamlessly to top medical centers nationwide. Whether it’s a transfer to a specialized hospital in Kolkata, Chennai, or Mumbai, Air Rescuers handles all the logistics, ensuring a smooth transition between healthcare facilities with minimal delay.

Why Choose Air Rescuers for Air Ambulance Services in Dibrugarh?

Reliability: A trusted name in medical air transport with years of experience.

24/7 Availability: Emergency services are available around the clock.

Expert Medical Team: Skilled doctors, nurses, and paramedics provide continuous care during the flight.

Advanced ICU Setup: Fully equipped air ambulances with life-support systems to handle any emergency.

Affordable Pricing: Transparent and reasonable pricing for all air ambulance services.

Nationwide Reach: Seamless transfers to leading hospitals across India.

Conclusion

When every second matters, Air Rescuers offers reliable air ambulance services in Dibrugarh, providing swift and efficient medical transport to save lives. Their commitment to delivering critical care in the air, combined with their affordable pricing and 24/7 availability, makes them the go-to choice for families and medical professionals in times of need.

If you or a loved one requires emergency air medical transport in Dibrugarh, contact Air Rescuers today. With their expert team and state-of-the-art aircraft, you can trust that you’ll be in the best hands, from takeoff to landing.

Contact Us For More Details. We Are Available 24/7 To Assist You. Call Us Now At +91 9870001118.

[townpostin]

Emergency Services Enhanced with Dial 112 in Jamshedpur

Dial 112 for Quick Response in Emergencies Emergency services in Jamshedpur now have a faster response system with Dial 112. JAMSHEDPUR – Dial 112 is now available for swift assistance in emergencies, including accidents, health issues, disasters, and fires. Dialing 112 will connect individuals to the relevant department for quick action. On Sunday, a session was held at the CCR office to raise…

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday requests If you're not too busy I would love another part to cinnamon rolls son. Love your writing, it really is a great inspiration, you got me out of my own writing slump.

The Justice League was at their wits ends with Dan. Disaster struck no matter what they attempted to ensure he developed some softer traits.

First, Barry had the bright idea to show him the wonders of volunteer work to help the community. If he could value the life of humans, surely he wouldn't destroy it in the far future. As a teenager, Barry had punched hours of volunteering in the local hospital to play and read to the sick children in bed.

He had done it because he enjoyed making children smile and built up his resume for college. Barry was many things, but being wealthy enough to afford college wasn't one of them. He wanted to apply for as many scholarships as possible, so he started his community service campaign from an early age.

On the first day of their community service, Barry had taken him to clean up the local beach. An hour into the work, a shark had been spotted near the swimmers, and Dan had dived in to rescue a little girl from its jaws.

Dan had been hailed a hero until he picked up the girl's father and threw him into the water towards said shark. The father had ignored his seven-year-old daughter for his mistress. Apparently, once Dan overheard the man panicking more about his wife finding out the beach father-daughter beach day was just an excuse to cheat on her than his crying daughter in the ambulance, Dan had figured he needed to be taught a lesson.

Dan stood over him while the man screamed and splashed, pointing and laughing. Were it not for the Flash's sudden appearance, well....Dan may have actually fed that cheating cum bag to the sharks.

Bruce added it to the shared drive, asking Barry to include a complete detailed report, by the hour, of what happened. They figured they could analyze Dan and find what could make him snap.

Next, Clark took Dan to his family farm. He claimed nothing brought up good children like his mother and father's gentle but firm parenting,g plus the wonders of the hard farmer life. Clark was sure Dan would enjoy all the open space, the animals, and working in the fields.

Within the hour of the pair arriving at the farm, Dan happily weeded around the field. Clark was somewhat surprised by how quick he took to the job. He went inside to help Ma ready some pie and Clark's legendary lemonade as a reward.

It only took a few minutes since Ma had already put the pie to cook before they arrived. The two were gone long enough that Clark could make a nice pitcher and take a few seconds to smell the mouthwatering pie.

He went back into the field carrying a tray of a plated two-slice pie and a cold glass cup, only to stop dead in his tracks. Dan was kneeling, laughing manically towards the sky, within the circle of burning weeds.

The flames were a green and black color. Its dark smoke shifted into what appeared to be screaming humans. The worst part, however, was the lines of what appeared to be renamed scarecrows wearing shackles as they harvest Pa's cornfield.

Clark was horrified.

Batman had added to the drive, "Gave life to inanimate things just to enslave them."

Hal was the next one to try, but no one knew what happened on their Become A Better Person trip. Hal refused to place a report, only stating that he could never look at Hawaiian pizza again. He threw up when Barry brought one in for a long meeting.

At least Phantom seemed happy they were still attempting to save his son. His daughter was also more well-behaved, spending most of her days traveling. It was strange to associate her with Phantom because if there was one thing Dani liked to do, it was pick fights.

She had fought through Darkside's defenses to challenge him to a pie-eating contest. She freed half of his planet on her way out, but not before beating them up to get them to listen.

Her father would have spent time trying to do things peacefully. Not Dani. She did stuff through her fists.

Batman had added classifications to the three ghosts in the file. Phantom was Lawfully good, Dani Chaotic good, and Dan was marked as Chaotic neutral. The rest of the league suspects that his children added those, but no one was brave enough to point it out.

[definitelynotabirthblog]

1000 word quick drabble. I challenged myself to write imperfectly for an hour and post whatever came out. This is the result. Not too bad for something that hasn't had about a million edits.

-------------

A CALLOUS CABBIE

The clutch on their car had been making very strange noises since Thursday. There is no way it would be fixed in less than three days, five including the upcoming bank holiday weekend. Bella's contractions started at 11pm on the Saturday night, only as painful as day two period cramps and twenty minutes apart at first, but by 3am on the Sunday morning, the contractions head steadily increased in frequency to every five minutes with the intensity of them now rendering her unable to talk when they peaked. It was time to go to the maternity unit, but with no functional car of their own, they were relying on the local taxi service to help them make the fifteen mile journey.

Brendon booked the the vehicle for as soon as possible using the company's app on his phone. Within ten minutes, a black Honda had appeared outside their house, the low rumble of the engine humming. Brendon swung Bella's hospital bag over his left shoulder and, supporting his wife with his other arm, walked her slowly out to the car. As she shuffled in, the driver took in the sight of her bump in the rear view mirror and frowned.

"I hope there won't be any accidents on that seat. A drunk puked on it last week and I've only just had it fixed" he huffed.

"We have sick bags in case. But she doesn't feel sick, do you baby?" Brendan asked Bella.

"That's not what I meant," the driver sighed. "I meant any... fluids. The last thing I need is any nasty stuff on my seat."

"My waters haven't broken yet," Bella insisted. "But if they do and I make a mess on your seat, we will pay for the cost of getting it cleaned."

"And what about the cost of the fares I'll miss while I'm getting it cleaned? Whose going to pay for that?" he argued back.

Brendon looked at the driver, speechless. Bella rolled her eyes and looked at her husband.

"Run in and get a towel to put under me sweetie."

Muttering under his breath, Brendon got out of the car and ran back to the house. Less than a minute later, he was back carrying a large fluffy towel. Bella lifted her bottom up and allowed him to spread it beneath her.

"Happy?" Brendon said, sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Ecstatic."

The vehicle revved up and started to move. For the first tenty minutes minutes of the journey, Bella was able to breath through the contractions as Brendon held her hand next to her. The cool night air brushed her face through the open window, distracting her somewhat from her cramping womb. As a particularly nasty pain cut through her as the vehicle turned on an intersection, Bella felt warm amniotic fluid engulf her crotch. Crying out as the contraction peaked, Brendon looked at his wife's drenched bottoms and gasped. The driver glared through the rear view mirror.

"What the hell was that?" he called back.

"Baby?" Brendon said, ignoring him. He looked at his wife, who glanced down at her pants and shot a panicked look first to her husband and then at the driver.

"Just a really bad one. It's going now."

But less than two minutes later Bella was roaring as another pain pummelled her uterus, head thrown back, hand snaking down to her crotch.

"Oh god, it's coming! Brendon, it's coming now!" she squeaked.

"Stop the car please," Brendon called, as he removed his wife's seat belt.

"Why?"

"Because my wife is giving birth!"

"I'm not stopping now. We're five minutes away. Tell her to cross her legs."

"Excuse me? I said stop the car! I need to call an ambulance!"

"And whose is going to pay for my missed fares when we have to hang around for an hour for it to come?"

"I'll pay you double. Just stop the fucking car!"

"No," he said plainly, taking the slip road onto the motorway.

"Brendon! Please! It's coming out!"

Bella's pleading brought Brendon down from his rage as she whimpered beside him, her hands cupping her crotch. He could see the patch of wetness had grown as more fluid leaked out of her. Car being driven at 80mph or not, he needed to act. Grabbing Bella's hips, he swivelled her body 90 degrees so she was facing him, her shoulders resting against the interior of the car door.

"Take my pants off!" she gasped. Brendon dragged her bottoms down her legs in one swift motion, exposing her labouring vulva. There, sat between two puffy lips and under the glistening jewel of her clit, was the centimetre square dark patch of their firstborn's head as her body forced it into the world.

"Oh my fucking god, I need to push!" Bella yelled, as she bore down. Fluid dribbled out from behind the swirls of the infant's hair as the centimetre patch of hair grew to an inch. Brendon held her legs open and instinctively she put her feet on his shoulders, bracing her legs against him as she pushed.

"You're doing it baby," he said, his voice breaking as he gently supported the taut perenium with his shaky fingertips. Bella's stretched pussy neared a full crown, her feet by his ears. Grunting with effort, she pushed like she was trying to shit a boulder, as her baby's head stretched her battered vagina to its limit. She shrieked with pain as their child's head popped out with a slosh of bloody fluid into its father's waiting hands. Pushing once more, a wriggling baby tumbled out onto the car seat, swimming in fluid. Brendon put the child onto its mother's chest, covering them both with his own jacket.

"How are we getting on back there?" the cabbie shouted, as he finally slowed his vehicle, the lights of the hospital shining through the cat windows.

"You'd better fucking believe we won't be paying for any damage you arsehole," said Brendon as his child cried, breathing oxygen into its lungs for the first time.

[petermorwood]

A quick thank-you...

...to everyone who wished me well, and who satisfied my (and other folks') curiosity about what the US version of my recent ambulance and A&E (ER) trip would have cost.

My answer to that curiosity has upgraded from "a couple of..." to "potentially several thousand dollars, depending on location."

Since a couple of the people asking me were doing so because of planned holidays in the US, I'll warn them "have insurance, and don't skimp on what it covers."

*****

This also explains why I've heard / read about US tourists over here (Europe-wide) trying to refuse ambulances after accidents, clearly from fear of what they think it'll cost.

To reassure anyone heading this way: an ambulance call is nothing like as pricey as in the US, and often costs nothing at all.

That said, buying full-cover travel insurance for a vacation is always good practice, and never expensive. (And yes, people I know well might laugh to see me in the role of Mr Sensible. Sometimes it's a good role to play.)

*****

Anyway, thanks again!

Normal service will resume after a message from our sponsor... ;->

*****

Don't want to buy #ebooks from a billionaire? Try buying them from a thousandaire...the one who wrote them. 😄 Pre-holiday sale prices are back, as I figure people can really use them around now. (Offer not valid in UK due to Brexit: sorry, GB friends.)

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Seven: Under Pressure

Series Masterlist Next Episode

The next morning, [Reader] woke up to the quiet hum of the city outside her window.

She blinked blearily at the empty space beside her, only to realize—Caleb was gone.

Her fingers brushed against the sheets, still warm from where he had slept. Then it clicked.

He must have left early for his first flight of the day.

With a soft sigh, she rolled out of bed and got ready for work.

As soon as she stepped into the ground control tower, a flurry of voices and rapid commands filled the space.

The storm had already begun rolling in, and the radio buzzed with transmission after transmission of rerouted flights struggling to land.

She was just settling into her station when an emergency call came in.

"Mayday, this is Flight 308. We have a passenger suffering from a heart attack. Requesting immediate priority landing clearance."*

Her stomach dropped at the voice on the other end.

Caleb.

"Flight 308, this is ATC," she responded quickly, her training kicking in. "Due to severe weather conditions, several runways are currently unavailable. We are assessing the safest landing option for you now."*

"Understood. Passenger is unresponsive—medical assistance needed ASAP."*

She clenched her jaw, eyes flicking over the control screens.

Almost all the active runways were occupied. Some flights were already circling, waiting for clearance. If they didn’t act fast—

"Tara," she called, turning to her colleague. "I need you to contact emergency services and have an ambulance waiting at Gate 12. Make sure the paramedics are ready to go the second that plane touches down."*

"On it," Tara nodded, already dialing the number.

[Reader] took a steadying breath before switching back to the transmission.

"Flight 308, diverting you to Runway C for immediate landing. Adjust your heading to 270 degrees and begin descent now. Tower will guide you in."*

"Copy that. Beginning descent."*

Her grip on the console tightened as she monitored the approach, her entire focus locked on ensuring Caleb and his passengers made it down safely.

Seconds stretched into eternity before—

"Flight 308, touchdown confirmed. Welcome to Linkon International."*

A collective breath of relief filled the control room.

She watched as the plane taxied toward the gate, where paramedics were already waiting.

"Nice work," Tara murmured beside her. "That was fast thinking."*

But [Reader] barely heard her, only feeling the tension ease slightly from her shoulders. Caleb had landed safely. That was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, at the Gate

Caleb sat in the cockpit, exhaling deeply.

"That was some quick landing," his co-pilot praised. "Not easy in this weather."*

"Wasn’t just me," Caleb replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. "The ground crew handled it well."*

As they finished their post-flight procedures, Liana approached, a smile curving her lips.

"You handled that so well, Caleb," she said smoothly. "You’ve always been good under pressure."*

The other crew members glanced between them, sensing familiarity in Liana’s tone.

"Wait, you two know each other?" one of them asked.

Liana tilted her head. "Of course. We were friends back in college."*

A murmur of intrigue passed through the crew.

But before the gossip could spread, Caleb shut it down immediately.

"We were batchmates. That’s all," he said firmly. "Nothing more."*

Liana’s smile stiffened for a split second before she laughed lightly. "Right. Just batchmates."*

But the curiosity in the air lingered.

Later, during break

[Reader] was just about to grab a coffee when her phone buzzed.

Liana Reyes: Meet me outside the terminal. We need to talk.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She already knew this wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation.

Still, she sighed and headed to the meeting spot.

Liana was already there, arms crossed.

"You should break up with Caleb," Liana said the moment [Reader] arrived.

[Reader] raised a brow. "That’s bold of you."*

"I’m serious."* Liana stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You think you belong in his world? With his kind of family?"

[Reader] stiffened.

Liana smirked. "You don’t want people knowing who you really are, do you? The daughter of a mistress?"

Her stomach churned, but she kept her face unreadable.

"And what if Caleb finds out?" Liana continued, voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Do you really think he’ll look at you the same way?"

"I don’t know," a voice suddenly cut in. "Why don’t you ask me yourself?"

Both women turned—

And there stood Caleb.

His gaze was sharp, unwavering.

Liana’s confidence wavered for the first time. "Caleb—"

"You really think I didn’t already know?" he interrupted, crossing his arms. "That’s what you wanted to hold over her?"

Liana opened her mouth, but Caleb took a step closer, voice low.

"Listen to me, Liana," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I was never interested in you. Not in college. Not now. Not ever."*

Liana flinched slightly, her lips pressing together.

[Reader] watched in stunned silence.

Caleb’s gaze flicked to her, softer now. "You ready to go?"

She blinked before nodding. "Yeah."*

Without another word, Caleb took her hand, leading her away—leaving Liana standing there, her plan completely shattered.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos

[adabird]

Bakugou Katsuki x Injured Reader

!gender neutral reader!

-One-Shot

Katsuki had been forced by his publicist to dress into a tux and join Pro Hero Deku, for a convention. Of course, he and Izuku are close now but he’s getting agitated with all the flirty questions, flirty touching, and tightness of his dress shirt. He just can’t wait to come home to you. That being said, when a Secret Service agent dressed in a black tux and his hair gelled back, approaches Katsuki to whisper that Y/N, his wife has been attacked protecting a child, he stands up so fast he also most flips the table. Luckily, Izuku caught it. He immediately had a cab called, half way in the process of loosening his tie, and taking off his suit jacket is when you called him. Telling him everything was okay but you were injured and trapped where you were. Katsuki felt his world crash down within seconds. You had made him grit out a promise from a clenched jaw, that he would save the child first and not you. He made sure to burst into action, running through the red plush flooring and the pictured walls of the convention hallways. He had frantically waited for the cab, but becuase it was taking too long, he started to run to your location. He made a quick call over to his sidekicks asking if they were on the scene, and of course they were. Both him and Deku had defeated the villain, and assessed the building before entering. Deku went in to grab the kids, while Dynamite went in to look for you. He ended up finding you riddled with cuts, and what appeared to be a broken leg, as you sat unconscious, he started pushing you off the floor and into his arms. The ambulance ended up being loaded with not only yourself, but Bakugou too. He had made sure to hold your hand, while they arrived at the hospital. Not any ordinary hospital, but placing you in the best hospital known to man.

My second one-shot ever!! I ended up blending the writing and completely forgot about this in my drafts!

Let me know if there are any other characters you wish me to write about!

-Onie out!

[dedeinthewild]

oliver bearman x reader, special encounters

-"she was so much better than a creamy croissant"

summary : Ollie’s bike ride turns chaotic when he falls and injures his leg. After a funny ER visit and a crush on a paramedic, Kimi ends up delivering an apology—and a cornetto alla crema. Ollie may have broken his leg, but he got a sweet surprise out of it.

The drivers loved grabbing their bikes and pedaling toward Italy from Monaco, with the sea on their right and the endless blue sky stretching out like an infinite expanse of happiness.

Ollie had a thing for good training sessions with his friends, always thinking about a creamy croissant to end the morning and the weekend trip ahead, where he’d visit his family. Ever since his Formula One commitments had packed his schedule, he’d made it a habit to spend time with his dad. Saying he missed his mom and Thomas was an understatement. Still, he was proud his little brother had begun his own rise with a British F4 contract, and he knew his mom kept busy with work and her new passion for sourdough baking.

“Why can’t I get ice cream now?” Ollie asked, while Kimi pedaled a bit faster to catch up with him after a stretch of road where they’d had to ride single file.

“We’ve been awake just half an hour, Ollie,” the Italian laughed, reaching him and letting go of the handlebars to grab his water bottle for a sip.

The threatening clouds they’d seen hovering over the principality began to break up as they passed Menton, nearing the Italian border.

“Can we stop?” asked the Brit in Italian, spotting a sweets stand just as they entered Ventimiglia, where they’d planned a quick break before heading back to Monaco for an evening of PlayStation.

“Cut it out!” joked the younger of the two, earning an exaggerated glare from Ollie, who turned around with raised eyebrows and an Oscar-worthy pout.

“I’ll kill myself.”

Moments later, a small rock caught under his tire, and Ollie found himself sprawled on the pavement, sitting against a signpost, clutching his scratched leg.

“I didn’t think you meant literally,” Kimi quipped, crouching beside him, noticing the grimace on his face and hoping it wasn’t a broken leg—they’d be in serious trouble if it were.

“Shut up,” Ollie replied weakly, smiling at his friend’s joke while inspecting his calf to gauge the damage, turning it to look from different angles.

“I should call Andrea.”

“No!” Ollie quickly said, grabbing a handkerchief from his cycling jacket and wetting it with water from his bottle to clean the wound of asphalt dirt.

“You can’t stay there like roadkill!”

The Haas reserve driver shook his head, settling against the post and noticing that no one had stopped to help them.

“Maybe the emergency services?”

“Who the hell made me do this?” sighed the young Italian, unlocking his phone and leaning against one of the railings overlooking the port.

Before long, just enough time to argue over whether or not to inform Andrea—one of their managers and friends—about the fall, an ambulance arrived and parked nearby.

“What do we have here?” said one of the paramedics as he approached the drivers with a kind smile, noticing they were calm and the injured one seemed more embarrassed than anything.

“We were talking, and I didn’t see the rock,” Oliver explained, setting his helmet on the ground and fully revealing his flushed face, while behind the paramedic came another woman with a stretcher and one carrying a first-aid bag.

“You’re lucky you didn’t fall into a pothole,” the two women chuckled as the man prepared for transport, and they worked to assess the situation.

“This is definitely sprained, if not broken,” said one of them, making both drivers groan. If Ollie could have buried himself, he would have done so then and there, knowing this meant his trip to see his family was canceled, and Andrea wouldn’t be thrilled. His ankle looked terrible and was already starting to swell and bruise.

“Do you usually put much weight on it?” They likely needed to know how carefully to handle it for a smoother and quicker recovery.

“We’re racing drivers,” Oliver answered with a heavy British accent.

The two paramedics glanced at the third, who was preparing the stretcher and hadn’t initially noticed who they were sitting on the sidewalk. Now she recognized them but maintained her professionalism, waiting for the others to give the all-clear for transport.

“I feel so stupid,” the driver said, staring at his ankle as they moved toward the nearest hospital.

“This happens more often than you’d think,” she smiled, sitting beside him. “I’ve mastered immobilization thanks to reckless cyclists.”

The boy chuckled softly, despite his semi-reclined stretcher feeling so comfortable it tempted him to move—though he knew that would only make things worse. Kimi stayed in Ventimiglia, sitting glumly by the roadside with both bikes nearby, dreading calling Andrea, who would undoubtedly have words with René once he heard what had happened.

“At the hospital, they’ll give you something to ease the pain.”

“But I don’t feel any.”

“You will,” she replied, taking out a form.

“Are you allergic to anything?”

Ollie shook his head, grabbing his phone to check for notifications from his teammate while she filled out the hospital protocol form.

Soon they arrived at the hospital, and the three paramedics transported him to the ER. They handed him over to a doctor, who, before taking him beyond the doors to determine whether it was a fracture, noticed Ollie’s adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was kicking in. To help, they administered something, and they started walking toward the exit.

As the doctor injected the substance, Ollie felt a strange lightness and happiness, like he was in one of those cheesy teen movies that try to soften the blow of summer ending.

“Hey, yo!” he yelled, spotting a guy leaning against a column, holding a pink jacket, likely waiting for a relative.

“My paramedic’s hella cute, yo!”

The paramedics turned, eyebrows raised and amused, toward the source of the outburst.

“It’s the driver,” chuckled one of them, nodding toward the young man wildly gesturing from his stretcher as the doctor looked on, baffled at such a reaction to something far from anesthesia.

The two women smiled, and the one who had sat with him during the ride blushed slightly, knowing her colleagues would tease her endlessly about this.

Ollie was on cloud nine, smiling sweetly with dilated pupils, fist-bumping the bystander, who had put down his phone and jacket to chat with him freely. Normally, Ollie was shy, reserved, and polite, but now? He was entirely different.

“She’s hella cute! You should’ve seen her,” he said, flopping back onto the stretcher and resting his arms behind his head, gazing at the fluorescent ceiling lights.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked the stranger.

“I’m Andrea,” came the reply in Italian.

“My best friend’s called Andrea! He’s so funny; you’d definitely get along,” he said confidently, shaking his head as if making an unshakable proclamation worthy of a bet.

Meanwhile, the paramedic girl was amused, much like the doctor who, half-annoyed, wanted to kick Ollie out for disrupting the whole ER. The young Brit, with his Ferrari cycling jersey and dirt-smeared shorts, had his brown hair disheveled and his fair skin slightly flushed with its distinctive freckles and moles. He was a sight.

“I’m Ollie,” he fist-bumped like they were lifelong friends.

“You know, that jacket’s smooth. Give me the name of the shop.”

The stranger burst into laughter, turning away slightly not to laugh directly in his face.

“She was so much better than a creamy croissant,” Ollie added, sprawled out in contented delirium.

The paramedics shook their heads, patting the blushing girl on the back before leaving the ER for their next call.

Ollie disappeared with the doctors and nurses, while the ambulance crew resumed their morning shift.

Back in Ventimiglia, Kimi had finally called Andrea and René, taking the scolding meant for both him and Ollie. Still, with the next Formula 2 race in Qatar nearly two months away, Ollie had time to recover and get back in shape. Kimi stored their bikes at a café he knew, asking for a favor, then took a taxi to the hospital.

Walking into the ER still in his cycling shoes, he asked for Oliver, noting the nurse at the desk chuckled upon hearing the name but didn’t question it. He made his way to the casting room, where they had taken Ollie after confirming via X-ray that the bone was indeed broken.

“How are you?” he asked, sitting beside him.

“Good. Did you bring me the croissant?” Ollie replied with a grin.

“We gave him a painkiller, but he’s out of his mind,” the doctor laughed, raising Kimi’s eyebrows.

Rarely had Kimi seen his teammate act so unhinged—so unlike the reserved Brit he knew. He hadn’t seen this side of him since their laughing-filled night in Singapore when Ollie’s Italian had nearly become fluent.

A week later, as they sat in the apartment Prema provided them in Monaco, Ollie showed Kimi a video.

“This is a prank,” Kimi declared.

“I swear, I wanna kill myself after this,” Ollie groaned, utterly embarrassed.

“Should I remind you what happened the last time you said that?” Kimi teased, glancing at Ollie’s casted leg propped on the coffee table. The past two days had been an adjustment—navigating the apartment, dealing with itchiness, and Ollie’s outbursts as Kimi laughed at his struggles on one leg.

“Do me a favor,” the Haas reserve driver asked, watching as Kimi prepared lunch.

Kimi sighed, crossing his arms. “What is it?”

“Go to the paramedics and apologize for me.”

“I hate you,” the Italian grumbled, plating the omelet he’d just made. They ate together before Kimi reluctantly set off for the Italian Red Cross station where the ambulance that had picked them up was based.

Once there, he asked to see the three paramedics from that day. Only one was on duty.

“Ollie wanted me to apologize for the other day,” Kimi explained. “He couldn’t really control himself.”

“Don’t worry. He actually brightened up our day,” she replied with a smile, leaning against the wall. “Wait here a second.”

Kimi watched her disappear through a door behind her. He glanced around the station until she returned holding a paper bag.

“Maybe I’m being silly, but he kept going on about a cornetto alla crema, so I wanted to give him one.”

“But you didn’t know where we were,” Kimi said, amused.

“Exactly,” she replied with a small laugh.

The driver smiled, thanking her, knowing Ollie would definitely appreciate the gesture. And maybe Ollie had been right—under the influence of painkillers, he’d called her cute. With her soft features, honey-colored eyes, and hair tied back in a braid, Kimi could see what he meant.

“You met her?” The British driver was in shock as his teammate hung his jacket on the apartment’s coat rack. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Kimi laughed, tossing the paper bag with the cornetto inside to him.

If he could have, Oliver would’ve broken the other ankle just for a chance to see her again.

Meanwhile, at the paramedics’ station, she was sitting on a stool, preparing cookies for that evening’s meeting, a soft smile on her face and the image of the driver etched in her mind.

@charlieblacks-world and I had this idea, and we really hope you like our drugged Ollie!

not proofread, there might be a few errors :)

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[bleakbronze]

There are several key steps to immediate treatment of a gunshot wound.

First and perhaps most importantly, contact the relevant authorities. Then, your priority until emergency medical care arrives becomes stopping the bleed. If the wound is on an extremity, you must tie a tourniquet as close as you can to the juncture of limb and trunk — it should be tight enough to hurt. Check to see if there is an exit wound. If not — using a piece of gauze (or whatever fabric is available) pack the wound tightly. Again — it should hurt. The more gauze you can pack into the gunshot wound, the better chance you have of helping the bleeding to clot. Finally, apply pressure. Do not ease off. Do not give in. Hold.

Connor knows all of this. Does it all automatically, without question and despite protestations from Hank.

That's not the hard part.

The hard part lies in the precious minutes of waiting. The time between Connor first pressing his suit jacket hard against the front of Hank's shoulder and the arrival of paramedics.

Connor listens to the emergency services operators as he applies steady, consistent pressure. The ambulance will be there in five minutes, but when you can process at the speed that Connor can, every second gives you enough time to imagine just how many things can go wrong in each of those minutes.

"I'm fine, Con," Hank says, trying again to push himself past a kneeling Connor and climb his way up to his feet.

"No, Hank, you're not." Though he's not usually one to flaunt it, Connor is a lot stronger than Hank. And with Hank's injury, it takes little effort to press harder against Hank's wound, pinning him back down. "You're in shock." It's clear to see it in Hank's face, too. His breath is coming in quick, short pants, and he's blinking like he can't pull anything he sees into focus.

Connor grabs Hank's wrist again. The shift in position pulls a groan and a swear through Hank's clenched teeth.

"Your blood pressure is beginning to drop." The data floods through Connor's HUD, numbers flashing red and insistent, everything telling Connor that Hank is dying. Underneath the speckles of his own blood, Hank's face is pale and pinched, each muscle in his body tensing as his systems try their best to preserve themselves.

Connor doesn't care that the guy got away. Doesn't care about the sirens and the tires that scream past them only a few feet from where they lie together on the sidewalk. All that he cares about is the hole in Hank's shoulder and the heart beating in his chest.

"Connor," Hank says, and his voice is deflated, all the air and life in it whispering out.

"Yes, Hank?"

Connor stares at each slender line that traces across Hank's face, each one a mark of what's happened to him. What new lines are digging into his face right at this moment through each cut of pain?

Each of Hank's breaths as he prepares to speak is a crackling rasp.

"It hurts," Hank finally says, and Connor's not sure he's ever heard Hank's voice this soft.

"I know it does," he lies.

Connor doesn't know, not really. How could he? The machine of his body can compute, process, do it all — except know what this means for Hank. And it frustrates Connor so much that he nearly eases up on the pressure at Hank's shoulder to bury his face in his hands and scream. But all he can do — what he must do — is keep exactly as still as he was designed to be.

His notion of pain and Hank's are entirely different. The discomfort that Connor feels when he loses function of a biocomponent is nothing compared to a mangled nerve endings, metal encasing itself in delicate flesh, feeling one's own bones as shrapnel tearing you from the inside. Connor's been broken before, but, no, he'll never know this. Even if he wishes he could. Wouldn't that be so easy? He'd give Hank every ounce of thirium in him, every last biocomponent that kept him running if it meant Hank lived. But right now, all he can do is press tighter and tighter against the wound until the tips of his fingers are wet with the blood that soaks through his jacket.

He wishes he could do anything.

"The ambulance will be here soon. What do you need, Hank?"

There are a few short, hiccuping breaths before Hank can reply.

"Just stay," Hank says. "Stay here."

Connor smiles — as much as he can right now. "I can do that."

How desperately Connor wishes he could hold Hank right now. He can't, though; the pressure against his wound needs to be steady and consistent.

So, instead, Connor leans in slowly. Hank's tired eyes track him through clenched brows, as Connor closes in on him, and finally, Connor brings his lips to Hank's temple, soft and careful.

The skin is so warm. It's terrifying to think of it getting any colder.

Hank hums at the contact, the closest he's sounded to pleased since before they even got here, and Connor stops kissing him if only to see his face again.

(He doesn't realize until he's pulling back that he's kissed Hank precisely where an LED would be.)

Deep brown meets ice blue and even with the pounding of feet, the screaming of sirens, the rush of cars, the reverberations of far-off gunshots — when their eyes meet, the world goes so, so quiet.

It's there, on the ground together, that an ambulance light finally flashes against them, and for a moment, just the briefest fraction of a second, the blood that soaks through Connor's jacket and coats his fingertips is erased as the whole world is tinted red in the ambulance light's glow.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

While they're hanging out at Grillby's/Muffet's on the Surface with their brother, a shooter enters the bar and starts shooting at the monsters. What do they do? For the main boys.

Undertale Sans & Papyrus - Papyrus keeps his calm and pushes his brother and Grillby behind the bar, and then, realizing he's the only one who is more or less a royal guard in this room, he jumps on the shooter and tries to grab his gun. While he's fighting, Sans takes as many people he can with him and shortcuts them one after the other out, until he's out of magic and basically passes out in Grillby's arms outside. Papyrus gets shot, but he doesn't give up, and eventually, with the help of the remaining monsters, he manages to make the weapon fly in the air. Papyrus pins the man down with many, many bones and waits for the royal guard and the police to arrive, panting heavily and shaking from all his bones. Thanks to their quick reaction, the man only managed to kill two people. The skeleton brothers are reunited in the ambulance, both exhausted but alive. Papyrus won't sleep for a few months after that, traumatized.

Underswap Sans & Papyrus - Blue pushes his brother on the floor and dodges a bullet in extremist. He drags his brother in the bathroom and screams to everyone close enough to follow him. He manages to lock the bathroom door and barricades it with a lot of physical magic attacks. He managed to save around 20 people, and called the police to guide them from the inside. Blue knows the shooter is trying to get in, but he's ready to fight to protect everyone, even more so since poor Honey is completely petrified with fear and can't do anything to help. The police eventually arrive and execute the shooter. Blue feels guilty he couldn't save everyone, even though he protected almost 80% of the customers. He is salty when he sees all the dust outside and can't help but think one of these piles could have been him or his brother. He's taking Honey home after that, so he can recover from the shock with his service dogs. It's going to be a complicated week.

Underfell Sans & Papyrus - Both skeletons, and well, the rest of the room, immediately retaliate with magic attacks. The guy manages to kill a few monsters before being thoroughly executed by Edge, who threw a huge bone across his skull. All of the monsters are on the defensive, shocked, and tired, so Edge steps in to calm everyone down. He's the one who's going to talk to the police, being representative of the crown, and to try to ease things as he's worried the police might believe monsters randomly executed someone and are now trying to cover the crime up. Red for sure doesn't help, pissed off and excited, but also taunting the police officers again and again for being god damn incompetents. Grillby eventually drags him out of the room to make him shut up. Edge convinces the police officers, and things don't go further, thankfully.

Horrortale Sans and Papyrus - Oak quickly realizes his brother can't physically duck to dodge the bullets, so he does what every big brother would do and puts himself in the way. He dusts in his brother's arms, as Willow is screaming his name, while Grillby is attacking the shooter with all he has. He eventually managed to make him run away, but at what cost? A lot of monsters died, including their "leader". The next day, the remaining monsters goes down in the streets to protest and support Willow, who is destroyed emotionally. Toriel will take care of him, but that won't bring Oak back.

Swapfell Sans & Papyrus - Nox screams to his brother to leave. Rus obeys for once, taking a few people with him. Nox has no hesitation. He's the head of the royal guard; that's his duty. He's fighting that man until he drops dead on the floor. Nox is badly injured and exhausted, as the guy managed to shoot several times at him, but Nox is stronger than a few bullets. He passes out in the middle of the room, but with the satisfaction that no one died today. While he's recovering, Rus and Toriel have a heated argument in the corridor, as Rus doesn't hesitate for one second to accuse her of being responsible for what happened. That's because she hates humans, that the humans are attacking them. It's time she takes her goddamn responsibilities because she almost lost her precious heir today to a stupid gun. Rus begs her to let his brother go. It's clear she doesn't care, but Nox doesn't have to pay for her mistakes.

Fellswap Gold Sans & Papyrus - Usually, Wine wouldn't give a shit, and probably just keep sipping his tea in the middle of the chaos. But the guy made a big mistake and shot his brother in the arm. When he hears his brother scream, Wine is triggered and throws himself at the shooter's face. He takes them down in less than five seconds and makes sure to make their death painful. In the blink of an eye, he's back to his brother's side. He doesn't care about any of the other injured people in the room. He simply grabs his brother and takes him to the hospital without looking back.

[zosa95]

Jude: I was quick with my fists as a kid and teen. I rarely started a fight, but I sure as fuck finished more than a few. There was a bully - his name was Jack - who loved to taunt me. We scrapped occasionally, but I held back. I did farm work and had better upper body strength than most lads. One night in the pub, he started taunting me and tearing into Cecil; that was when Eva walked into the pub. He grabbed her and began groping her. I lost it. I punched him harder than I'd punched anyone before.

Jude: I broke his jaw and gave him a concussion. He left by ambulance and me in handcuffs. We were both charged, but I had people who defended my actions. Whereas he had three underaged girls - in addition to Eva - who stepped up to file complaints against him. He went to jail while I received community service hours. However, I still had form, and I knew Tinsley's parents would dredge that up in court.

Gemma: That's when you gave Tinsley all the money you'd saved to gain custody of Sybil?

Jude shifted uneasily, and Gemma watched him curiously.

Jude: The amount I saved wasn't enough to buy Tinsley off. Only Chessie and my mate, Ryder, know the entire story.

Gemma: You don't have to tell me. But if you do, I'm not telling a soul.

Jude: Ryder set up Tinsley's boyfriend with enough drugs to be arrested as a dealer. I told Tinsley that she'd either accept the money I had in exchange for full custody or she'd be set up, too. That's a low Ed would never stoop to.

Gemma: (thoughtfully) I kinda wish he would have. I don't want my dad to know how bad my childhood was because I think his guilt would create an insurmountable gulf between us. And I don't want him to know how damaged I am.

Jude shook his head.

Jude: You're not damaged; you're a survivor. When and if you tell Ed or Chessie about what you endured is up to you. I won't say anything. Neither will Eva, Mak, or anyone else.

Gemma nodded and took a deep breath.

Gemma: I think I'll call him today.

Jude gently nudged her with his foot.

Jude: Do me a favor, yeah?

Gemma: What's that?

Jude: Call him while sitting down, and don't forget to breathe. If you feel faint, let someone know.

Gemma: Okay.

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: Cops and postal services

Had this mentioned to me a little while back on police and ambulance services a little while back and it blew my mind. I think it’s pretty important and cool to know and would really help in fic writing or at least knowing the world more. Including some stuff about the mail too as I think it’d be helpful.

I know I make all these posts but there’s stuff for me to learn too lol.

No national number, yet-

It wasn’t until 1968 that 911 was established and it took a long time to be fully implimented across the country, some rural parts just getting the service in the late 1990s! What did people do before then?

You would call the local department, same goes for things like the fire department or an ambulance or other such services. Usually these numbers would be stuck on a fridge or in the phone book or widely known, it was just longer and more localized. Or you die ‘O’ for operator and ask for the local police station/hospital etc you’re trying to reach like you would a number— similarly calling the operator you could give a name and address and they’d patch you through. However, by this time memorizing numbers was more of a thing- Operators existed still but they feel so 20s-40s to me.

The idea of 911 is it’s a quick number to memorize and put into the phone, especially in an emergency or incapacitated/worked up so you can’t request the station or explain too much. It is sort of a national thing but it is also state and local as you don’t have “US police” answering a call in the middle of nowhere you have the local department.

according to research 911 service did not come to central Oklahoma until a vote in 1987 and then several more up until 2009! This is Oklahoma City and its metro areas. Idk if Tulsa applies here as it’s up and over but needless… wouldn’t have it for a long time. (It is now officially managed as of 2016 Jesus Christ Oklahoma.)

Another note is that it would be incredibly rare for those on the East/North side of town to call the cops, it’s mentioned in the book/movie but communities like this tend to solve their own problems. Either working it out on own, own sense of justice or just to keep the greater trouble cops would bring out. I have a meta on this.

Highway patrol-

Bringing them up as it seems fitting lol, considering the speeding charges, the racing charges, the car modification changes etc the gang would be getting. Also because personally I’m curious on the distinction besides being a pain to drivers.

Traffic laws, speed traps and hiding in the bushes basically. Their jurisdiction is the highways instead of a typical beat.

US postal service-

Mail is on the rise, not only is there more people but it’s also when things really get centralized so there’s more to send and easier. Stuff like bills and receipts and catalogs were the real bulk of mail, alongside personal messages. There was a real effort to make things national and easier. As here’s a diagram from 1968 showing how complicated it is;

Delivery zones-

When mail was simplified during WW2 when regular folks stepped in, easier to remember for major cities and areas. It’s a precursor to more exact area and zip codes. Made mail come far quicker as it was easier to sort!

Zip codes-

More recent than you think, just like 911 you never really think any differently when you’re born with them available but they’re pretty new! And there was a bunch of adds in the paper to encourage public use typically featuring a cute little character.

Some adds like this one would even inform you what your zip code would be and what the purpose is!

Mailing-

Twice a day service, depending on area and time. The sheer volume of it! By the 60s twice a day delivery began to wind down but you could still send perishables and other goods with a high expectation of arriving alright. Since long distance calls were expensive for most of their existence, especially back then letters and post cards etc were preferred.

In fact people sent so many letters there was ‘Pen-pals’ , to those unfamiliar it’s when you send letters back and forth between someone met through a personal add, a club or service etc — it’s sort of like the analog version of a online friend in a way?

Talked about it in my magazine post but “mail in” was a popular way to get free or special offered items in magazines. Usually it was an add offer, something branded you could request like a Orange juice brand beach towel or something like that (ran well into at least the 80s) — you could also do this with some cigarette or other companies with points programs (like green stamps but for merch)

Contests, you enter through the mail, sign up/renew through the mail (slips are still in magazines today), submitting answers or stories etc — all mail or sometimes over the phone!

There was also catalogues, you either wrote them or arranged what you were purchasing over the phone.

What a great time to be a mailbox…