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#please excuse the medical inaccuracies lol
pedrospatch · 1 year
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a safe haven l chapter six sneak peek
a/n 📝 chapter six is still more of an outline than an actual written chapter lmao so this is a very short preview. I’ve also got a drabble for this series coming up but I’m taking a few days off from writing just because I’ve been having to write so much for school so ya girl needs a wee bit of a break. I should be back to posting by the end of the week! ps: excuse any kind of medical inaccuracies. I’m a future counselor, not surgeon lol.
You walked over to Joel, peeling back the bloodied cloth from his shoulder to inspect his wound. “The bullet is lodged in there, I can see it. It’s still intact, and not broken off into fragments. The good news is that will make extraction a lot easier.” You kept a calm, cool and collected demeanor, but inside you were losing your goddamn mind. Words could not even begin to explain how fucking terrifying it was to see him sitting there injured, covered in his own blood. Still, with Tommy in the room standing just feet away, you had no choice but to force yourself to keep your composure.
Ellie frowned at you. “And the bad news?”
“Well, he’s losing quite a bit of blood and he could get an infection if that bullet doesn’t come out of his shoulder sooner rather than later.” You glanced over at Tommy, asking him, “Where’s Luke?”
“He’s down the hall workin’ on Peter. Carl’s next in line, he got hit in the stomach. Luke said he had to tend to the injuries based on how bad the injury is. Said it was called triage or somethin’ like that—”
“Well, what about Donna? Or Rose?” You referred to the two nurses who worked in the infirmary. At this point, each and every last single nerve in your body were on edge; all you wanted was someone to tend to Joel.
Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I know Donna is helpin’ Luke with Peter. Rose is in the room right across the hall tryin’ to stop Carl’s bleedin’—”
Finally, you snapped, letting your emotions get the better of you as you turned to the younger Miller, a frustrated expression clear as day on your face.
“He can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tommy!”
Taken aback by the outburst, Tommy tossed you a puzzled look.
“Wait a minute.” Ellie touched your arm, garnering your attention. “Didn’t you take a bullet out of one of the horses once?”
“That’s right,” Tommy realized. “My horse Ranger, he got hit in the shoulder. She took the bullet right out and had him all patched up within an hour.”
Your eyes bounced between them in absolute and complete disbelief. “Ranger’s a horse!”
“How different could it be?” Tommy wondered out loud, raking his hand through his black curls once more.
“I-I’ve never treated a human wound before.”
Ellie’s fingers dug anxiously into your arm. “Please do it,” she whispered, her worried eyes looking up to meet yours. “You’ve got to help him. Please?”
Slowly, you turned to Joel, who hadn’t uttered one single word in the last five minutes. He continued to hold the cloth over his gunshot wound, his face having gone slightly pale from the blood loss.
“It would be kinda nice to get this fuckin’ thing out of my shoulder,” he remarked, meekly. He brought his gaze to meet yours, holding it. “I trust you.”
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hingabee · 6 months
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19 for the fic asks?
19) the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic honestly aside from like morbid and medical stuff, AND delving into the memory alpha and beta wikis for star trek lore (i pick and choose as i please B-) ) its probably historical contexts and very specific details in that area. im a huuuge history nerd and literally that guy from that meme that rings the bell if theres historical inaccuracies that cannot be excused by budget or "it just looks cool" so whenever i write smth that needs some historical backing i get lost for a few days in just reading up on it and forget about the actual story im writing LOL
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thedefinitionofbts · 7 years
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If You Knew
Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Doctor Au
Words: 7K
Description: Requested by anon
Dr. Min Yoongi is the most skilled neurosurgeon in the country. He has successfully faced a number of challenges in his career and is under the assumption that he can professionally handle anything at this point, that is, until he was put in charge of treating the girl he has harbored a secret crush on since college.  
Or, in which you lose your eyesight in a car accident and fall in love with the neurosurgeon treating your condition.
A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who sent in a request for a doctor au!
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Min Yoongi has treated a lot of people in his life.
As a world-renowned neurosurgeon, he wasn’t the least bit surprised when he got a request to treat a victim of a brutal car crash. He’s always the first doctor to be recommended because of his reputation, and nine times out of ten, he is, without a doubt, the best person for the job. But the moment he saw your name on the patient form that was handed to him as he walked down the squeaky clean hallway of the hospital, he knew this was going to be that one out of ten time that he was fucked.
Rewind back to when his best friend and closest colleague, Kim Namjoon, had told him that the hardest part about being a doctor isn’t actually acquiring an extensive amount of knowledge on the practice of medicine, performing long surgeries, or dealing with being overloaded with work on the daily. For geniuses like them, it was never about not being smart enough or skilled enough. Instead, Namjoon had brought to Yoongi’s attention long ago that the most difficult part of being a doctor was dealing with being the courier of bad news.  
Of course, being forced to play that role doesn’t happen often. It shouldn’t because doctors are supposed to save people, to heal them. But they aren’t divine entities. They can’t fix everything, and with the existence of things they are powerless to do anything about comes the need to perform error handling, to figure out how to let people down without allowing those feelings of guilt and remorse consume you.
And so, being the overachieving perfectionist that he is, Yoongi took the liberty of conditioning himself in a way that he would never have to run into that issue. He figured if he detached himself from his patients to the point where his relationship with them lied solely on a professional level, he would never have to meddle with emotional attachments.
Up until now, his solution of desensitization has been working smoothly. He’s faced the task of notifying family members of the death of their loved ones and informed people they are in the later stages of cancer or some untreatable disease. He’s told mothers that their babies were born impaired and will die before the age of 5, and athletes that they may never walk again. He’s seen the worst of it and has come out more or less unfazed.
He thinks he has it down to an art form, one that he has spent the majority of his career crafting to the utmost perfection, which comes back to the one thing he had never thought in a million years he would have to do, and that was to be in charge of treating you.
 …
 To say that Yoongi was inept at comforting people would be an understatement. Don’t get him wrong, he comes off kind and considerate to everyone around him, and he’s highly, highly respected by everyone in his field of work. He has good relationships with his patients (professionally), and he always delivers treatment to the best of his ability.
But it’s safe to say; he’s never offered anything deeper than surface level care. Surface level care as in, treat physical condition and get out before getting too deep into consolatory territory. He’s not a therapist. He shouldn’t be expected to treat psychological ailments or provide a shoulder to cry on.
Of course, that’s under the assumption that he’s treating a stranger or at most an acquaintance.
And that’s where you come in.
You, as in, the girl he fell head over heals for the first time he saw you reading under a willow tree on a warm spring day. The same girl he never had the guts to approach properly because you were always surrounded by hotter guys, and Yoongi being the classic nerd who had his head buried in textbooks 24/7, was nowhere near your league.  
“Dr. Min, she’s in room 227” The nurse next to him reminds as she watches Yoongi almost open the door to the wrong room. 
He looks up at the room number of the door his hand is already gripping around the knob of:
226
“Aish” He curses under his breath. He needs to stop drowning in his thoughts before he makes a fool of himself. He quickly glances back at the group of residents and assistants, making sure they don’t suspect he’s unfocused due to fatigue, which he’s proud to say he has never been, before continuing to the next room over. 
There’s no background noise in the room. Other than the familiar beep of the heart monitor, it was almost disturbingly quite. Yoongi’s gaze lands on your sleeping form, head and arms wrapped in gauze after going through emergency treatment right after the accident and breathing through tubes for the time being.
“She was transferred here this morning.” The nurse informs, cutting through his mental observations. “Her left arm and ribcage have sustained minor fractures. Her spinal cord was not severely damaged, but we are still uncertain about how much the cranial trauma has effected her eyes.”
“Her eyes?” Yoongi echoes, partially unsure of why his own voice sounds so distant and hollow.
“It is inconclusive whether her vision loss is dude to nerve damage or just corneal lacerations. We will need to run more tests when she wakes up.”
 ….
 Past
 Yoongi was in his second year of undergrad when he first came to the realization that he hadn’t experienced as many youth related “joys” as his fellow peers. He had never dated a girl, never felt the recklessness of partying until dawn, wasn’t a club goer or drinker, and steered clear from recreational drugs all together. He always used the “too busy focusing on my future” excuse for virtually everything that came crashing his way.
It was a classic case of being determined to succeed, and he was pretty sure his future self would be proud of his strong will at such a ripe young age.
Everyone around him knew that he wasn’t the type to get distracted easily; in fact, it was a labor-intensive struggle just to get Yoongi to do anything non-school related. His attention was rarely, if ever, drawn away from his goal-oriented mindset, but you somehow managed to make him do a double take the moment he looked out the window of the library he had been rooted in all afternoon.
“Whatcha looking at?” Namjoon’s voice from across the table snaps him out of his momentary trance.
“H-huh?” Yoongi turns back towards Namjoon, still unaware of the chemical change that had occurred in his brain due to a certain heart-fluttering stimulus. “Oh uh, nothing, just…enjoying how green the grass is.” He fabricates; eyes quickly shooting down to his textbook in hopes that the other male will treat this occurrence as nothing out of the ordinary.
But of course, he doesn’t.
“Enjoying how green the grass is?” Namjoon cocks a brow obviously unconvinced, pupils shifting towards the direction Yoongi had been staring at for a good two minutes- that likely would have turned to five or even longer had he not interrupted.  
And there you are, sitting peacefully under a willow tree with your flowing hair partly fluttering in zephyr, partly tucked behind one ear, and eyes fixated on a book resting gently in your lap.
It was almost too cliché, but Namjoon wasn’t about to judge.
His lips curve upwards, sighing fondly as he turns to face Yoongi, who is now not so subtly trying to avoid direct eye contact with the all-knowing male.
“Are you going to go out there and talk to her?” Namjoon inquires without a single hint of hesitation.
“What are you even talking about?” Yoongi retorts, trying to sound like Namjoon was being completely absurd and didn’t just witness the signs of love at first sight displayed on Yoongi’s habitually apathetic face.
Namjoon exhales and shakes his head. “If you’re going to deny your infatuation, you should’ve tried to be less obvious.”
“Again, I have no idea-”
“Oh come on, Yoongi. Are you really going to play this game with me?”
Yoongi tsks in mild annoyance, expression turning sour. “I don’t have time for this. Let’s get back to studying.”
Yoongi is definitely a stubborn one. He was like that with his goals and dreams, his resolve to succeed in the medical field, and personal desires, as he soon came to learn. Perhaps that is also why he never moved on from you.
 …
 Even after that little incident at the library with Namjoon, where he pretended like he had been unaffected by the first stages of a growing crush, the thought of you had constantly been on his mind. It was like that image of your elegant form had been imprinted in his memory, and it wasn’t going away. Although he would never admit it verbally, he would catch himself thinking about you at the most random times, while he was eating, walking between classes, listening to music, and even during exams! It was a nightmare, and further to his dismay, such thoughts had been increasing in frequency to the point where he couldn’t stop himself from hoping he could see you again, even if it’s just a distant glimpse. Which is precisely why he found himself frequenting that same spot in the library more often than not.
It’s a bit creepy to say he went there to observe you from afar, but when it all boils down to the crux, that is all he had the courage to do. And it’s not like he was just staring at you the whole time, thankfully he’s not that creepy. It was more like the intermittent glance outside when his eyes got tired of the same old human anatomy flashcards scattered in front of him or the occasional tilt of his head when he caught you lifting an arm to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He would sometimes imagine what it would be like to invite you to study with him, to sum up the guts to actually talk to you because it was definitely a more natural way to handle the state he was in.  
Surprisingly it wasn’t that hard. And by “that hard”, he means that one day it unexpectedly started pouring rain, and somehow turned into the first time you met him, or in other words, “found out about his existence”. Yoongi himself was actually immersed in his own reading when it happened. He was occupying the exact same seat in the corner when he heard light tapping on the window, only to recognize they were pellets of water hitting the glass.
He jolts up at the realization, and his eyes immediately shoot to the spot you were sitting outside, gathering your belongings in your backpack in preparation to escape the downpour. He doesn’t even take the time to think about what he’s doing, diving into action without a game plan as he hastily grabs his umbrella and sprints out the door. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever ran faster in his life, heck, he didn’t even know his scrawny legs could carry him so swiftly. But he makes it to the tree in time, just as you were zipping up the last compartment of your bag.
“Here” He says briskly, handing you the umbrella gripped between his hands before considering how bizarre the situation was from your perspective, to see a stranger handing you an umbrella while he was getting soaked under the rain himself.
You look up at his out of breath state, his clothes drenched from the water still falling from the sky. “Ummm, thanks?” You hesitantly take the item he’s presenting you, eyes still trained on him, waiting for him to explain what was going on, where he had magically appeared from, and why he was not using the umbrella to shield himself but rather offering it to you. “So…” You open the parasol and hold it above both of your heads, biting your lip when you realize you have no idea what to say.
“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, silently cursing himself for not thinking this through. His wet bangs were now clinging to his forehead, and he’s 99.9% sure he looks like a complete idiot. “H-here, I can hold that.” He awkwardly reaches out and takes the umbrella from you, hands brushing against yours momentarily before you let go of the handle. “Sorry.” He mutters again.
You shake your head. “No, I should be thanking you for saving me out here.” You smile brightly, and Yoongi swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I don’t think we’ve been acquainted, I’m Y/N.”
“Y/N…” Yoongi spends a little too long savoring the way the syllables roll off his tongue. Even your name was beautiful. Nothing like any of the names he had conjured from the guessing games he had played in his head for the past few weeks. Y/N…it was perfect. “Uhh..my name is Y-Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” He adds, fortunately catching himself before he fell into another daydream.
You giggle at his display of nervousness. “Did you just happen to be out here on a walk?” You query, tilting your head in the cutest way possible (according to Yoongi).
“Oh, no. I was studying in there.”
Your eyes follow the direction his finger had raised to point towards. “So how come…?” You wanted to ask why he had ran out here.
“But then I got tired of reading and came out for a break.” He lies, praying that you won’t be suspicious of the impossible coincidence that he just happened to be outside with an umbrella within your vicinity right before it started raining.  
“I guess it’s my lucky day then.” You grin, putting your pearly whites on display this time. Yoongi’s heart is pounding so hard he feels like he’s going to pass out.
The two of you slowly make your way back towards the library. Half of Yoongi’s body remains exposed to the rain because he tries to leave enough room for you, even though you insisted he should scoot closer to you. You assume he’s just being polite, seeing as though the two of you just met.
“So what’s your major?” You ask, directing the conversation casually in an attempt to dispel the tension.
“I’m, uh, pre-med.” He answers.
“Impressive.” You nod. 
“What about you?”
“Literature. Not as practical.” You shrug, remembering how your parents were against your decision to study something that would not provide very many career opportunities, but you loved it too much to give it up in exchange for something else.   
“No, no. That’s really interesting.” Yoongi quickly butts in, regretting his choice of words the moment he hears what he had just voiced. He clears his throat, taking a deep breath before trying again. “It’s a study that is irreplaceable, and central to us as human beings. It helps us expand our horizons and express ourselves in unique ways.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “It’s really cool that your passions lie within something so important to humanity.”
Your lips curve upward at his heartwarming words.
The rain lets up not long after you reach the library, and you end up thanking Yoongi again before parting ways. He doesn’t know it then, but you were grateful for several things he did for you on that fateful day. Although he probably didn’t mean for his encouraging words to make such a huge impact on your mindset, to you it was unforgettable because it was exactly what you needed, not only on that day but also for many years to come.
 …
 Present
 He stands at the doorway staring at your limp form lying on the patient bed. His heart feels like someone is tying ropes around it, and he feels like the air in the room is too thin.
“She will be blind until we find a donor.”
The words keep repeating in his mind, and he doesn’t know why they are affecting him this much. He’s not supposed to be attached to patients. He’s not supposed to be concerned past an acceptable professional level. He’s not supposed to be too weak to inform them of bad news, and yet he had forced a resident to break the crippling news to you earlier this morning. 
At least it’s not permanent. At least it wasn’t nerve damage and can be fixed with ocular surgery. But even so, it doesn’t quell any of his concerns because compatible cornea donors can take months to find. 
“H-how are you feeling?” Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut the moment the words leave his mouth in a not so smooth manner. Why the fuck was he getting nervous? This is not how a world-renowned neurosurgeon should be acting. Min Yoongi, fucking stay professional.
Yoongi swallows thickly through gritted teeth, hoping that the sound isn’t loud enough to make it to your ears.
You continue to lie stiffly on the cot, not turning your head in the direction of his voice or giving any other indication that you had even heard what your doctor had just asked. The bandages around your head had been removed, but your eyes were kept closed for obvious reasons.
“Better” You softly answer after a painfully long silence that Yoongi spent mentally scolding himself.
He instantly relaxes the moment your voice, which is just as beautiful as he remembers might he add, fills the quiet room.
“That’s good. If you feel any discomfort or need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.”
“Ok” You respond with a slight upturn of your lip that almost resembles a half smile.
“I’m going to perform some simple tests to make sure your nervous system is still functioning properly.” He informs as he prepares his equipment.
“Ok” You answer again, shifting a little this time to show that you are ready.
Yoongi takes a deep breath before reaching over to take your uninjured arm. He proceeds to give instructions for you to move your fingers, elbow, and shoulder, before moving on to make sure you haven’t lost sensation in any of your other limbs. You stay quiet for the majority of the time, only obediently doing as he says. You take note of how soothing his voice is and how delicately he handles you, and you can’t help but wonder if all doctors were this gentle, this kind, because you hadn’t quite experienced the same tenderness with the previous nurse and assistant who had performed initial tests on you.
“Now I’m going to quickly assess your lungs.” He notifies before reaching over to grab his stethoscope, shoving it in his ears and trying to ignore the fact that he’ll be seeing your partially bare body. The exact thing that he’s shameful to admit he could not refrain from fantasizing about when he was lying alone in his dorm room so many years ago. He swallows again, harshly reminding himself to stop being so ridiculous. That was the past. That was natural for a male in his sexual prime, but he’s older now, more mature, a respectable doctor-
Fuck.
All thoughts of reason flew out the window the moment his fingers brushed against the smooth and soft skin of your chest. His heartbeat is quickening, and he clenches his jaw to prevent his hand from trembling even in the slightest bit. Thank god years of surgical training has gifted him steady hands, because he’d be shaking uncontrollably if he had not practiced the art of calming himself when his own nervous system is on overdrive.
“Inhale. Exahale.” Yoongi instructs, for your sake and his own.
You follow his commands, taking in a deep inhale and long exhale, but you manage to squeeze in a quick question, one that you had been curious about for the past half hour. “Since I can’t see your name tag, can you tell me how I should address you?” Yoongi’s hand freezes, still placed above your exposed chest.
“You can call me Dr. Min.” He answers, eyes fluttering up to trace over your facial features but finding it difficult to read your emotions without your eyes to give anything away.
Lucky for him, you smile at his response, and it’s so reminiscent of the first time he saw your lips stretch into such a beautiful form that his heart almost skips a beat.
The rest of the testing goes efficiently, mostly because it’s filled with some light conversation. Now that you know his name, you somehow feel closer to him for some inexplicable reason. He’s not that nameless, faceless medical practitioner that’s pinching and probing you like you are some lab specimen, but rather a doctor by the name of Dr. Min, who handles you like a porcelain doll and speaks with a kind of rhythm that takes you to a place as familiar as home.
“Well, that’s all for now.” Yoongi announces as he cleans up. You can hear him packing away up his equipment, metal against metal, and the sound of him pushing the cart back into the corner.  
“Will you be back?” You ask as he walks back to your bedside.
“Of course.” He answers, letting his face relax into a smile. “I’ll come as much as you need me to.”
“I would like that.” You say, as he helps you lie back down to rest.
Yoongi doesn’t know what you mean by that statement, but he assumes you just want to be reassured that you’ll be properly taken care of. He jots down a few notes on his notepad and prepares to leave, but just as he was about to leave the room you call for him one last time.
“Dr. Min?”
Yoongi halts mid-step. “Yes?” He turns back to look at you, even though he’s fully aware that you can’t see him anyways.
“Thank you.”
 …
 Past
 Yoongi didn’t lack appeal in the traditional sense of the word, but he wasn’t exactly good at being a ladies magnet. He knew he wasn’t physically alluring, but he had brains, and there were plenty of girls who could appreciate a smart man. Like take Kim Namjoon for example, a man with the IQ of a genius, constantly spewing quotes as deep as the Pacific Ocean. But unlike Yoongi who gave off the aura of someone who hated everything about life, Namjoon made his nerdiness come off as charming and irresistible.
Yoongi, on the other hand, rarely expressed emotion on his face, and even when he did, it was always solely around his closest friends.
“So you’ve moved on from spying on her from the library?” Namjoon leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, contemplating the next steps he can suggests the hopeless male take.
“Joon, I told you, I stopped engaging in that shit a long time ago.” Yoongi huffs. “It was creepy, I know.”
Namjoon chuckles wholeheartedly. “And yet you managed to do that for what, 2 months?”
“Shut up”
“You’ve spoken to her before. Why not ask her out?” He proceeds to push the topic, despite knowing that the older male never wants to talk about it.
“Because I’m over her.”
“Lies.”  
Yoongi hates it when Namjoon is right because Namjoon is always right. He’s not over you. Hell, he’s never going to be over you. And just because he doesn’t see you anymore, doesn’t mean you’ve stopped haunting his dreams or daytime musings or every crevice of his cerebral cortex.  He even applied to be a TA for an introductory Bio course this semester, hoping that it’ll take his mind off of things that should not be specified.
He had thought it was the perfect plan, that is, until he saw you walk into the lecture hall on the first day of class.
What kind of fuckery-
“Yoongi, right?” He looks up to find you standing in front of his desk, apparently keeping his head down and eyes trained on the professor’s stack of handouts was not going to help him turn invisible.
“Y-Yes” He clears his throat.
“I know we don’t really know each other yet, but you don’t know how glad I am to see you.” You admit, looking around at the other students whose faces you’re even less familiar with. This is what happens when a liberal arts student decides to take a science class for fun, just to see what it was like.  
“You are?” Yoongi’s jaw slackens at your unexpected revelation. You can’t seriously be glad to see him for the reason he thinks… can you? He’s not misinterpreting your words… is he?
You nod while beaming at him so brightly it’s almost painful for his frail heart. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone here.” You clarify.
Yup. He misinterpreted. “Oh, right. Lit major.” Yoongi pretends to casually recall, not that he even came close to forgetting any detail about you.
Throughout that entire semester, Yoongi learns more about you than he had ever dreamed he would have the opportunity to. Because of your nonexistent science background, you always show up to his tutoring hours and stay longer than any other student. At first it made him a bit uncomfortable, knowing that there was no way he would even stand a chance at getting over his feelings for you at this rate, but interacting with you soon settled into a comfortable routine, one in which he almost gained enough confidence to be less nervous around you.  
“I’m sorry, you probably have other things to do.” You apologize as you look up at the clock hanging on the wall and see that it’s past the end of his tutoring hours.
“It’s fine. I was planning on staying here to study anyways.” He smiles at you, pulling out his own textbooks to show that he wasn’t leaving any time soon.
He hates himself for unleashing this type of self-torture on himself, for falling into this vicious cycle of not being able to resist caring about you past what is expected, or even reasonable for a mere TA. He didn’t have to stay past his tutoring hours for your sake. He didn’t have to make customized study guides just for you, and go out of his way to hide the fact that he did all of these extra things.
So you never knew about the countless occasions, Yoongi spent all evening helping you study class material, even when he had projects and lab reports due the next day. You never knew about how he didn’t mind losing a few hours of sleep, if it meant spending those hours with you.
 …
 Present
 “Y/N? The Y/N that still plagues your conscience to this day?” Namjoon almost spits out the bite of food he was chewing on. He and Yoongi were eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria when the older male decided to break the news to him. He knew Namjoon would find out eventually, so there was no need to hide it.
“You’re over exaggerating” Yoongi mutters, looking down at his lunch tray and picking at his food absentmindedly.
Namjoon sighs. “Am I? I told you the guilt wouldn’t go away that easily.”
By guilt, Namjoon means the terms in which Yoongi left for medical school without saying goodbye to you or even leaving you a way to contact him. 
“It was four years ago.” Yoongi reminds, as if time would really allow him to accept the decision he made.
But he’s never stopped regretting it. He’ll never forget how long he spent waiting by that bench, pacing back and forth while formulating a way to tell you how he truly felt about you, only to run away when he saw you walking down the sidewalk with someone else. That other guy was probably just a friend of yours, but the scene of you laughing to your hearts content as you linked your arms with him shattered any bit of confidence he had managed to assemble.
In retrospect, it was pretty stupid of him to let something so trivial prevent him from doing what he should’ve done at the time, which was confess in the face of potential rejection. He also didn’t know it would be the closest he ever got to telling you how much he liked you, nor did he anticipate it being the last chance he ever got to see you before he went off to medical school. He often wonders what would’ve happened if he had just sucked it up and confessed. Would you have given him a chance? Would he be less regretful? Even in the event that he was rejected, he was certain at the very least he wouldn’t feel so pathetic for chickening out even to this day.  
He still lingering over those thoughts of the past as he lightly knocks on the doorframe of your recovery room.
At the sound of the familiar tap, your head jerks towards the entrance and your lips curve into a gentle smile when you hear the distinct footsteps of the doctor who never fails to brighten your day.
“How are you feeling?”
It’s always the first thing that glides past his lips, the tangible serenade that makes the dull room come alive. 
“So much better now” You hum, exhaling blissfully.
Yoongi furrows his brows, not quite understanding what you are referring. “Did the nurse up your dosage?”
You laugh, shaking your head. “It has nothing to do with any of my medications, Dr. Min.”
Yoongi takes a seat on the chair by your bedside, still oblivious to what you mean.
“I heard you’re a writer now.” He says as casually as he can while simultaneously gripping the book he has brought and is planning on reading to you- if you wanted, that is. He was actually on a break from work, but decided to pay you a visit because he figured you would be bored, or at least that’s the excuse he kept repeating to himself. Truthfully, he’s feeling very uncertain of his actions and whether or not this is even an acceptable thing to do as your primary doctor. It’s probably not, but when has Yoongi ever been able to resist going the extra mile when it came to you?
“Now?” You pause at his peculiar statement. Were you being overly sensitive to his choice of words or did he actually sound like he was someone who knew you in the past? Maybe it was just a misunderstanding on your part.
“I mean, it says you are a writer on the patient information forms.” Yoongi corrects, quickly clearing his throat awkwardly.
“I am” You nod. “I’ve always been passionate about literature, but sadly, I can’t read or write in this condition.” Your expression falls, and Yoongi feels a tiny pang in his heart.
Yoongi looks down at the book clutched between his fingers. “Well, I can read to you if you would like.” He is trying really hard to make this a smooth transition to why he came to visit you today and not give away the fact that he actually planned this whole “read to you” thing. “I just happen to have this book here with me right now, and I’ve got some time to kill.”
You remain silent as you let his words sink in. It crosses your mind as being a little strange for a doctor to just have random books on hand while working. “Do you always carry books around?”
Yoongi swallows nervously. “I-I….yes” He stutters.
You giggle. “So you’re an avid reader?”
“You can put it that way.” He responds before flipping over the cover.
When he begins reading, you immediately recognize the title of the piece he had conveniently chosen. Was it too much of a coincidence that he just happened to have picked up one of your favorite books? Surely the patient forms would not contain such personal and medically unrelated information.
“You’re a fan of Murakami?”
He glances up from the page. “A friend of mine is.” He replies, recalling how Namjoon had shoved so many of the Japanese author’s works in his face over the years. He eventually grew fond of them for reasons he normally elected to not acknowledge, but deep down he knew it was because they always reminded him so much of you and your own literary tastes.
“I’m glad it rubbed off on you.” You comment, smiling once more.
Yoongi takes your peaceful reactions as a sign that you enjoyed his uncustomary visits, so he comes whenever he’s on break. Of course, he always hides those details and pretends that he’s just stopping by as he’s making his hospital rounds, but that was beside the point. Sometimes he even comes with a journal to write for you, becoming your pen and paper. You share all of your ideas with him, the deepest layers of your thoughts that your surprised became something that was so easy to do. It’s not every day that you feel comfortable enough to be in someone else’s company when you are writing. You typically wouldn’t even allow your closest of friends to walk in on you brainstorming fantastical ideas for new stories.
It was all going well for Yoongi until the day he didn’t time his visit right and almost fell out of his chair when the nurse walked in on him as he was reading to you.
Her expression is of mild astonishment as she stares at the neurosurgeon dressed in casual attire. “Dr. Min, I thought you were off work today?” Her question echoes loud and clear throughout the room, making Yoongi wince at the revelation of the secret he had kept so well up until now.
“I-I…” He completely at loss for words, eyes shifting over to you who has no idea what is going on.
The nurse proceeds to check up on you, clearly oblivious of Yoongi’s stupefied state.
He remains standing awkwardly against the wall as she finishes her assigned duties, not making a sound or clarifying why he was still there. Luckily the nurse doesn’t think much of it, and leaves as soon as she is finished.
“Dr. Min?” You voice as you hear him sit back down.
“Yes?” Yoongi murmurs timidly.
You smile knowingly. “Thank you”
 …
 It was exactly four months later that Yoongi was informed of a potential corneal donor for you. Admittedly, the moment was a bit bittersweet for him because it meant that you would be leaving the hospital with new eyes as soon as you recover from surgery, which means he would probably never see you again.
“I can’t believe you haven’t told her.” Namjoon is tempted to tear his hair out at this point.
“Of course I told her!” Yoongi defends, taken aback by the fact that his closest friend would think so lowly of him.
“I’m not talking about the donor stuff. I’m talking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re the Min Yoongi from her undergrad days. 
Yoongi sighs. He should’ve known that Namjoon was still caught up in that. “Eh, she’s probably long forgotten about me.” Yoongi brushes it off, despite the little voice in his head that’s furiously trying to agree with the younger male. “It’ll just be weird if she finds out now because I’ve stepped over my boundaries as a doctor.” It was the truth, more or less. He’s definitely way past distant professional relationship at this point, and he thinks he’s certain that you’d be creeped out if you knew everything he’s done or has been doing for you.  
Namjoon rubs his temples in utter frustration, completely speechless at this point. “I don’t know what else to say.”
The surgery is successful. Of course, since it’s Min Yoongi and he’s just that skilled of a neurosurgeon. He doesn’t visit you on the day your bandages are removed and you can finally see the world in all of its glory once again, the brilliant sunlight surging into the small room, the vase of vibrantly colored flowers on the table by the window, the light blue and white bed sheets that you are seeing for the first time in four months. It was an exhilarating feeling; one that you’ll probably remember for the rest of your life, and it would’ve been a perfect moment, if only the first person you saw was the Dr. Min who gifted you the honor of being able to experience such a wonderful sensation again. 
You couldn’t hide the disappointment in your expression when all you saw was the nurse staring at you apathetically, and checking to make sure everything was functioning properly.
Maybe he was busy. You console yourself.
 …
 Yoongi was just getting off of his overnight shift a week after you checked out of the hospital, when he noticed that the flowers around the hospital grounds were beginning to bloom again. Leaving the hospital in the morning wasn’t that odd of an occurrence, but it was the first time in a long time he was taking a moment to enjoy the heartwarming signs of spring in the air. The sky was clear and the wind was twirling in enchanting ways.
He kind of wishes you were here to enjoy this with him.
But he only chuckles at the silly thought. Allowing you to actually see him was completely absurd. He even made sure some other patient was occupying your room before making a trip back to the place he had frequented for the past four months, basking in some of the old memories of the conversations the two of you had. He can’t deny the fact that he misses you, but he convinces himself that leaving you oblivious was for the best. Just as his mind was flooded with a few remaining thoughts of you, he closes his eyes and imagines he can almost hear the sound of your voice.
“Yoongi!”
The echo of his name being called by such a lovely and familiar melody makes him wonder if his lack of sleep or ungodly sleeping habit due to his job is finally taking a toll on his body.
“Dr. Min Yoongi!”
This time it’s louder and clearer than the first, and it makes his tired heart begin to race.
No fucking way.  
He whips his head around in a daze, only to see you standing a measly few feet away from him. He blinks a few times; still unable to comprehend that this isn’t one of his drowsy hallucinations.
You continue to stare at him with fond eyes, tracing over his aged yet soft features. He honestly hasn’t changed much, other than the dark bags under his eyes which you know will disappear after he gets some much needed rest. The disbelief that he’s drowning in is evident in his wide pupils and slightly parted lips.
“You were going to leave me hanging again, weren’t you?” You playfully accuse, taking long strides forward to close the gape between the two of you.
“I-I-…” He’s dumbfounded, unable to believe that this isn’t one of his illusory dreams of you, and that you are in fact standing before him right now, tangible and real, and looking at him with eyes that are seemingly verging on joyful tears. “You knew it was me?” He manages to inquire amidst his incredulity.  
“Eventually.” You admit, smiling at the way he drops his gaze. You gently reach up and cup his cheek. “At first I was a bit hurt that you didn’t tell me, but then I realized that it gave me a chance to fall in love with you…again.”
Yoongi’s jaw drops at your confession, and he feels like his breathing has stopped all together. “Y-You…m-me…again?” He’s lost the ability to form coherent sentences. This can’t be happening. Did you really just? To him?
You nod, chuckling at how embarrassing this all was, but you couldn’t lose him again, not after you regretted never telling him how much he meant to you four years ago and how much he still means to you now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pour all of this on you all of a sudden.” You exhale in an attempt to calm your pounding heart.
There’s a long moment of nerve-wracking silence before Yoongi finally speaks.
“Y/N…” He takes a deep breath, organizing his frenzied thoughts as best as he can. There’s so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t know where to begin. He wishes he could just transfer everything he wanted you to know without having to come up with a way to eloquently convey his feelings. From that heart fluttering moment he first laid eyes on you to this unforgettable exchange that is making him feel like the happiest man alive, he doesn’t know how to get it all across in one statement, so he settles for something simple. “Y/N, I love you.” He ends up spilling the words he’s always wanted to say but never thought in a million years he would have the chance to.
Your face heats up at his direct confession, but that doesn’t stop you from taking it as a green light to jump into his arms, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m not dreaming, am I? This is real, right?”
Yoongi closes his eyes and soaks in the scent of your hair, arms squeezing you just a tad bit tighter as if to show that this, indeed, is not a dream. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this to be real.”
...
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aworldoffandoms · 5 years
Note
39 for ethan and mc if you would be so kind ☺️
Authors Note: Hello! This Open Heart small ficlet is from this list of prompts. This is the second last prompt and I’m kinda sad about that.
Thank you so much for this prompt, nonny! Enjoy! 😁
I took some creative liberties with this and decided that Nicolette is a prodigy in her field of medicine…so much so that medical conferences want her to speak at them. Let’s just say that she’s got a reputation all on her own. She puts Ethan to shame! lol.
P.s. I’m not American so I don’t know much about LA so I included a convention centre in this. Please excuse any inaccuracies if there are some.
Prompt is: okay, we’ve got this
Prompt is in bold.
***
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC [Nicolette Valentine]
Word Count: 1,125 (give or take)
Rating: G
Warnings: None. Some fluff at the end. 
Summary: Nicolette is the opening keynote speaker at a Medical Conference in Los Angeles and she’s rightfully freaking out. Ethan gives her some encouraging words.
I’m tagging my OH tag list but please let me know if you’d like to stay on it or would like to be removed.
Open Heart Tag: @senseofduties​​ @polishchoicesfan @princess-geek @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @binny1985 @fanficnewbie @x-kyne-x​​@thefluffyphotographer @lilyofchoices @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @cxld-play @jens-diamondchoices @malakbesharah @hopelessly-shipper @my-heart-beats-for-ya @landofenchantedwonder @sabrinahoffersonsworld @flyawayboo @stanathanxoox @oofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @heauxplesslydevoted @bi-cookie @kingliamsbish @trappedinfandoms @supercoolperson0808 @perriewinklenerdie @riverrune
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Pixelberry and all characters belong to them.
***
CONFERENCE JITTERS
Okay, Nicolette. It’s time.  
“You ready, Nic?”
She stares at her best friend and shakes her head. “No, I’m not Sienna! I’m freaking out.” 
Sienna smiles encouragingly, as her hand rests on Nicolette’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” 
Nicolette stares at her tiny friend with the biggest heart and she can’t help but drink in her encouragement or at least she tries. 
Sienna was tiny, yes, but she’s the most caring and selfless friend Nicolette has ever had and she thanks God every day for her. She appreciates her so much.
“Thanks, Si,” 
Sienna gives her a wink and points to the four people sitting second from the front in the large theatre room of the Los Angeles Convention Centre. 
“If you feel like you’re going to faint or throw up, just remember that your friends are rooting for you all the way,” 
A short bark of a laugh escapes her. “You’re rooting for me to throw up? Nice.” 
Sienna giggles. “No! You know what we mean.”
Nicolette nods at her friend and grabs the curtain that leads to the stage. Panic seems to churn in her gut and her breathes become short and laboured.  
Oh shit, I’m panicking. I’m going to have a panic attack. 
Sienna seems to sense what’s going to happen and grabs Nicolette’s shoulders and guides her in some breathing exercises to calm her. 
“That’s right, Nice and slow, Nic. In and out. Inhale, exhale.” 
She does the breathing exercises a few times before she feels her heart rate slow to a normal pace and her breathing settles. 
“Phew. Thanks for that, Sienna.” 
Sienna gives her a wink and squeezes her shoulder. “You’re welcome, Nicolette. Just remember to kick ass and not forget us when you’re famous.” 
Nicolette rolls her eyes at her words but a chuckle escapes her nonetheless. “Heh. I don’t think I’ll ever forget you or the others but I don’t think it’ll come to that.”
Sienna gives her a playful shrug and a parting wink before sauntering back to the seat which their friends had snatched when they arrived. 
She peeks out of the curtain of the Los Angeles Medical Conference and her nerves threaten to derail her again before she clenches her eyes shut and turns away from the growing crowd. 
She sikes herself up. 
“You can do this, Valentine. It’s just one small conference in which you are the key-note guest speaker and your mentor will be scrutinising your every word. No biggie.” 
“No biggie indeed, Doctor Valentine.” 
Nicolette jumps at the voice behind her and her heart stutters for a completely different reason than speaking in front of hundreds of medical professionals from around the world. 
Doctor Ethan Ramsey. Her mentor, her friend and her confidant. And the one person she can’t let down.
Why does he have to be so handsome and serious at the same time? 
She gives him a self-conscious smile, embarrassed at the fact that he heard her pep-talking herself.
Ethan understands her nerves and gives her a warm smile, his hands coming up to place themselves on her shoulders and he gives her a caring squeeze. 
“You’ll be fine, Nicolette. Just remember to breathe. I’ve done a few of these myself and you just have to remember that they are here to see you, learn from you and they’ll see the brilliant diagnostician that I see every day. You’ve got this.” 
Nicolette glows at his words and she can’t resist the smile that reaches her face. Ethan’s expression mirrors hers. 
“That’s what I wanted to see.” 
Nicolette frowns in confusion. “What?” 
Despite the people milling about behind the scenes, Ethan’s hand comes up to rest on the side of Nicolette’s face, his fingers gently brushing some unruly hair behind her ear. 
His smile is gentle as he gazes at her. “Your smile. It lights up the room.” 
If Nicolette wasn’t being held in his strong embrace she’d have fainted right there but thankfully all she does is blush, her cheeks flaming.
Ethan grins at the blush on her cheeks and he moves to kiss her on the cheek. He repeats his earlier sentiment.  “You’ve got this, Nicolette.” 
“Well, when you say it I’m sure I will be.” 
Ethan moves back from her, giving her a final squeeze. He moves to take his place behind the curtain, Nicolette guessing that he’ll sit with Naveen or Harper but his next words make the dread feel like a heavy rock has been dropped to the bottom of her stomach. 
“Oh, and Nicolette, you needn’t worry about me scrutinizing every word you say considering I’ll be there up with you.” 
What?! 
Ethan winks at her, him already realising that another bout of nerves has hit her full force and he gives her some calming words or at the very least wants her to not worry because she doesn’t think clearly when she worries. “We’ve got this, Doctor Valentine. Don’t worry. We’ll educate these doctors, no problem. You and I are a team so we’ll be okay.” 
Easy for you to say Ethan I-embarrassed-the-keynote-speaker-slash-president-of-the-American Medical-Association-and-tore-apart-his-research-while-doing-so Ramsey! 
Ethan walks out of sight and Nicolette takes a shuddering breath to have the chance at a last-ditch effort to calm herself.
She repeats his words as she shakes her hands out in front of her, building up her courage. 
“Okay, we’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ll kick ass.”
“Welcome all to the Los Angeles International Medical Conference Key Note. We thank you for making the journey here.” 
There are murmurs in the expansive room before the host continues.
“Our key-note speaker today is a highly respected and talented physician who has been an integral part of America’s leading Diagnostics Team based in Boston, Massachusetts at Edenbrook Hospital. Everyone, please put your hands together for Doctor Nicolette Valentine!” 
Oh crap. It’s really happening! 
Nicolette hears the roar of her friends first, Jackie’s whistle heard above Bryce’s whooping and Elijah’s and Sienna’s cheers before she hears the rest of the room clapping in greeting. 
Again, she repeats the words Ethan said like a mantra in her head. 
We’ve got this. I’ll be fine. Let’s educate these doctors….
We’re a team.
A confident (at least she hopes is one) smile graces her face before she leaves backstage and emerges in front of the large crowd of doctors of all specialities and nationalities,  awaiting her words.
She finds Ethan at the front awaiting his turn, his blue eyes shine with pride and admiration for her. 
She gives him a grin and a small inconspicuous nod of her head. 
I’ve got this.
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floraone · 4 years
Note
**sorry this was too long for one pos! 1/3** I thoroughly enjoyed your mamo-med intern fic. Firstly because, well, it’s a great story! I also really appreciated that it made me reflect on my own experience. Gosh, the rounding during med school/residency… and what we called “pimping” (makes me sick to think that it used to be called that, and probably still is – I am only a couple years out).
I should sign up for an account lol... 2/3 was something like: Your fic made me reflect on my own experiences. First the endless rounding during med school/residence and “pimping” (gross that it was called that, and likely still is – I’m only a few yrs out). When the staff/attending call on learners and we all pray to know the answer and not look dumb. But also sexism in medicine. It is SO pervasive… from what specialties we are encouraged/discouraged from choosing, or even the double standard to which professionalism is viewed. #medbikini Comment box won't let me post a link, but there's an article on NYT summarizing it all.
*3/3* Anyway, thank you for your posts. I love that I am able to read something fun, sweet, but also astute and thought provoking much of the time.
Obviously I patched this together from the ones that reached me (sometimes I wanna kick tumblr, srsly) BUT
ANYWAY
I AM SO HAPPY YOU REACHED OUT TO ME! Especially because you’re in the field?!?! (I’m sorry for the probably total inaccuracy, as a psychologist I only ever see the medical field from the fringes, but while I DO see the sexism, I’m not the best at the lingo so please excuse my feeble attempts um..)
ANYWAYYY you have no idea how much it means to me you found it thought provoking and meaningful! That’s what I want my writing to be, always. Because yes I absolutely agree, academia as a whole, and not only medicine itself, needs to drink its respecting women juice really really badly.
(And I totally want to read that Times article!!!)
Anyway, I’ve been down about my writing (and the world) in this pandemic, and feel a bit disconnected and like my writing isn’t what it used to be, so your words meant a lot, especially right now! Thank you so much for popping in, and even doing it TWICE when tumblr was being mean! THANK YOU!
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soaimagines · 7 years
Text
Heartbeats
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Request: Imagine your old man Happy has a gun shout wound to the chest. You’re a trauma doctor and while trying to save him he flat lines three times.
Pairing: Happy Lowman x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of gun shot wounds?
Authors Note: I have absolutely no experience or knowledge in medical procedures so I’m sorry if there are inaccuracies or mistakes in this. And please excuse the formatting on this, I’m posting it via mobile and it fucked my layout 😭 I’ll edit it once I’m on my laptop! Hope you guys like it, let me know! Ps. Do people still use pagers?! Lol
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
You stabbed a piece of lettuce with your fork as you scrolled through your phone aimlessly. You were eight hours into a twelve hour shift and this was the first break you’d had. Being a trauma doctor was demanding and your department had been short staffed today. Finally there had been a break in the constant flow of patients and you had managed to sneak off to the staff room for a ten minute salad and coffee break. Happy had sent you a text this morning and you hadn’t had a chance to open it. You smiled as you read the message and quickly typed back. It had been five hours since he’d sent the first text and you knew he would be worried that you hadn’t responded yet. He didn’t love your career. He liked aspects of it, sure. He liked that you loved it and he liked that it kept you busy, but that was also the main reason he didn’t like it. When you were busy your job came first, and he always panicked when he didn’t get an immediate response from you. But it made you happy and you weren’t exactly stoked with his lifestyle choices either. You would never change him, you didn’t want to, but you hated the danger and the risk involved in what he did. But you compromised and for the last two years you had made it work. Your love for Happy far outweighed any hangups you had about his club, and vice versa. And as much as you hated to admit, his band of misfit bikers was pretty damn loveable. You sipped at your coffee. It was far too hot to really be enjoyable but you weren’t sure when you’d get another chance to have one so you sacrificed your tongue for burning and swallowed.
Beep beep!
The pager on your hip rang out, signalling an incoming ambulance and you quickly stood. You tossed your rubbish into the trash and quickly downed the rest of your coffee before dashing out of the room.
-•-
“What do we got?”
You asked as you rushed out to meet the paramedics. They wheeled the trolley towards you, the red and blue lights of the ambulance flashing behind them.
“Hispanic male, Gun shot wound to the chest.”
You nodded and grabbed hold of the trolley, ready to wheel them into the emergency ward. Only when you glanced down at the patient you froze.
No. No, no, no.
This was it. Your worst nightmare, happening right in front of you. The only thing you had been worried about for the last two years was unfolding before you and your heart was ripped from your chest. His eyes were closed, his skin paler than usual and his bloodstained white tshirt had been ripped open, exposing his tattooed chest and bullet wound.
“Oh my god.” You whispered.
The paramedics stared at you and you took only a second to gather yourself. There was no time for hysterics. He needed you.
“Happy? Can you hear me?”
He groaned in response and you took that as a good sign. His hands were red with his own blood and they laid across his torso. You needed to stop the bleeding. Find the bullet, remove it. Stabilise. Close. That’s it. You can do this. You told yourself. You’ve done it before. This was your job. This was just a patient. This was no different. Right?
Wrong. This was different.
This wasn’t just a gun shot wound. It wasn’t just a patient. It was the man you loved, the love of your life, dying in front of you.
“What’s his status?” You asked, your voice coming out stronger than expected. As the paramedics listed his vitals off you went into business mode.
You had to set your emotions aside.
You had to do this.
You had to save him.
-•-
“Clear!” You yelled and slammed the paddles down on his chest. His body jumped and you waited to hear that beep.
That beep that would make everything better, because it couldn’t get any worse. You immediately placed your hands in the centre of his chest and started pumping. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to escape the nightmare unfolding in front of you.
“(Y/N) this is the third time he’s flat lined. You need to call it.”
“No!” You yelled.
The palms of your hands pounded against his chest and you barely noticed the tear rolling down your cheek. You barked an order at a nurse to charge the crash cart and you grabbed hold of the paddles.
“Clear!” You placed them on his chest and his body jolted.
Nothing.
“Don’t you dare, Happy!” You said.
You took a deep breath and began the cycle again. 30 pumps. That’s it. On the fourteenth you heard it. The beep of the monitor signalling his heart beat and you stifled a sob. Drew pulled you away from the bed and you collapsed against him, sobs taking over your body.
“Happy!” You fought against him and he let you go.
You leant against the bed, your hands stroking Happys peaceful face.
“Cmon, (Y/N).”
“I’m not leaving him!” You snapped.
-•-
Happy squinted as his eyes opened, the harsh bright light making it hard to adjust. Slowly the room came into focus and he studied the unfamiliar setting. He tried to sit up but a pain ripped through his chest. His hand felt weighed down and he glanced down. He recognised your hair immediately and he watched you sleeping against his side, your head resting on the side of the bed and your arm draped over his torso. He shifted his arm gently. The movement woke you and you bolted upright.
“Happy!”
You leapt out of your chair and hovered over him.
“Oh Happy!” You broke into sobs, suddenly overwhelmed by the lights events.
He reached up and pulled the mask from his face. “Baby,”
Hearing his raspy voice only made you sob harder. You leant over him and smothered his face with kisses. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin his brows. You kissed every inch of his face and you kissed his warm lips. He lifted his hand and reached for you. You pressed your forehead against his and his hand cupped your face. His thumb gently wiped away your tears that continued to flow and when you pulled back you could see his eyes glistening too
“I thought I lost you.” You sobbed. “I did.”
Happy ran his thumb over your lips.He had never been an emotional guy. He kept his feeling s to himself but seeing this raw emotion in your eyes, the thought of leaving you, it resonated with him and he didn’t fight the tears forming in his eyes.
“You saved me.”
You nodded.
“Baby I’m sorry.”
You laughed and shook your head. “I don’t care, Happy. I don’t care about anything. You’re all that matters and your here.”
Happy smiled and pulled you in for another tear filled kiss. “I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
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