baran al hashimi x fem!reader - 2k words - age gap (r is late 20s, baran is 40) - you and baran have been hooking up for a few months, never really going beyond that. one satruday you run into her at your favorite museum, and she has a guest | from this poll |
note: happy pride month gays. love y'all. unhh. (the sound is included in the message.)
Every other week, Kaveh stayed at Baran's house, which meant that every other Saturday, they ended up at the Carnegie Museum of Art.
It was one of Baran's favorite traiditons. The museum itself was stunning on its own, but it was made lovier when a tiny little body was pattering next to her, pointing out this-and-that, talking his little head off with questions, darting around the exhibits while Baran tried to mindfully enjoy it.
Baran had loved this museum since she was roughly fourteen years old and miserable on her middle school trip to D.C. She had gone to a nice enough school that they could afford to do an afternoon stop in Pittsburgh on the way home, and Baran had wandered into the museum half-asleep and walked back out feeling rearranged. There were many things about Pittsburgh that, now 40, she tolerated rather than loved. But this place had stayed in her bones.
Kaveh, unfortunately, was seven. He was usually a fantastic sport, but there were only so many oil paintings a child could stare at before he felt he'd seen them all.
Still, every Saturday Baran asked, “Do you want to come with me today, joonam?”
And every Saturday her sweet boy said yes.
She always let Kaveh lead when they visited the museum because there wan’t a single exhibit she didn’t enjoy and she had learned really quickly that if he felt he had control over what they were seeing, the longer he was able to last.
Usually, this meant they ended up in the sculpture hall. Kaveh adored the tall, skinny statues there with his entire little heart.
“They look silly,” he would whisper loudly, staring up at the long bronze limbs and dramatic poses with complete delight.
And every single visit, without fail, he would eventually turn to Baran with barely-contained excitement and say, “Māmān, take a picture.”
Then he’d plant himself beside the statues and imitate them as seriously as possible, long face, arms thrown awkwardly into the air, knees bent at impossible angles as Baran gleefully snapped his photo.
Kaveh was bounding back to her side and standing up on his tip-toes to see the fruit of his photo shoot. She was showing him the latest one, his nose wrinkling with pleasure at his own performance, when his head snapped to the side with the speed of a small animal catching a scent.
Baran had about half a second of confusion before he pulled in a breath and used every bit of it:
“DOCTOR Y/N!!!”
Baran jolted so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
“Kaveh—”
Too late.
Across the gallery, you turned around and Baran’s heart sunk through every floor of the museum. It seemed like an awful collision of her two worlds that she very carefully kept separate.
She knew you in fragments that didn’t belong in a place like this, your scrubs and tired eyes after a long shift that always softened when you saw her, you padding through her kitchen at night, stealing water from the fridge like you lived there too, you half-asleep against her shoulder, breath warm.
She also knew how your voice sounded when it went all high-pitched and breathy, whimpering pleas of her name in her ear as your hands scraped down her back, her kissing your neck—
And now there you were. Dark jeans, a soft cream sweater with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, a tote bag from a college Baran had never heard you mention, rings stacked on your fingers that caught the gallery light. Your hair was different than she'd ever seen it. You looked soft.
She watched your expression move through confusion and arrive at something warm and surprised and delighted.
"Hi, Kaveh," you called across the gallery.
Kaveh was already moving. He crossed the room at a pace that was technically not running because his feet were not fully leaving the floor at the same time, but was in every other sense running. You crouched down to meet him and he wrapped his arms around your neck without preamble, without hesitation, the way children do when they've decided about a person.
"You're here!” he beamed.
"I am here," you laughed, settling back on your heels with your arms resting on your knees, completely unbothered by the contact with the museum floor. "What are you doing here, little dude? Are you an art guy?"
Kaveh pulled back and shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "Māmān likes it a lot more than me though. But she says it's good for my brain."
"Smart woman, your mama."
Baran had crossed the gallery at a more appropriate pace and arrived to find you already looking up at her, easy and warm, not making anything of it.
"Dr. Al-Hashimi."
"Dr. Y/L/N." She heard how formal it sounded and internally winced. She cleared her throat and softened her tone. "Small world. I'm sorry about the ambush."
"Please don't be," you beamed, standing. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all morning."
You had met Kaveh twice before and Baran had kind of freaked out both times (you knew good and well she didn’t really want you two interacting, didn’t want to blend whatever fuck-buddy situation you had going on with the version of her life she was presenting to her son) but both interactions had been really, really lovely. You’re not sure what you did to earn Kaveh’s adoration, but you were glad you had it as the adorable little boy beamed up at you, staring at you like you hung the stars.
Baran, standing slightly to the side, was also looking at your face. For completely different reasons. She took in the different style of your hair, the jewelry she hadn’t seen because it was kind of a pain to wear rings at work, the tote bag with your college insignia — a school Baran had not known you attended, had never heard you talk about, another piece of the woman she hadn’t had yet.
There were so many pieces.
“Are you here alone?” Baran heard herself ask.
You smiled. “I am, embarrassingly enough. I just like it here.” You paused. “Mom-son date?”
“We come most Saturdays,” Baran said. “When Kaveh is persuadable.”
“It’s an awesome hangout spot,” you nodded warmly, trying to will your heart to stop fluttering. Baran looked so… touchable? Something about her was calmer, more settled, and you wanted to soak it in like a sapling begging for just a drop of water to sustain it, but she was here with her son. And you were just a friend. Barely even that.
“Well, it was lovely to see you both,” you started to turn, “I hope you—”
Kaveh latched onto your arm, eyes going big with sudden sadness. “Wait, are you going?”
You froze, mouth falling open a bit, and your eyes shot to Baran. Sure, you liked her company and loved her son, but you knew this woman had boundaries and you never took that personally.
“Um, well, Kaveh—”
"Don’t go yet because we are looking at statues and you can join us," Kaveh said excitedly. "Do you want to see?"
You blinked. Your eyes still searching Baran's face.
It was sweet, Baran realized. She allowed her head to tilt, a warm smile to come across her face.
"Yes," she said warmly. "Join us. We could use the company."
Huh. You shook of your shock and replaced it with an eager nod of your head.
"I'd love to," you replied, a similar smile pulling at your lips. "Show me."
—
You fell into step beside her at an easy distance, and Baran noticed that too — the careful inch of space you maintained, not crowding her nor presuming that the invite meant she, all of the sudden, wanted you on top of her.
You talked to Kaveh mostly, crouching when he pointed at things, asking him questions that took his opinions seriously, which made him stand a little taller each time.
"That one is super sad," Kaveh pointed at a bronze figure with its head bowed.
"Hm," you studied it. "What do you think he's sad about?"
Kaveh thought about this. "Maybe he lost something."
“Lost something?” Baran prompted.
“‘Cause his head is down, Māmān,” Kaveh replied. “He’s lookin’ for it.”
It surprised a laugh out of you — real and unguarded, bubbling up from your chest and floating out into the high-ceilinged room — and Baran's eyes went straight to your face.
She'd heard you laugh before. But not like that. Not with nothing behind it but the simple fact that something delighted you.
She looked away before you could catch her looking.
She was noticing things she had no particular right to notice. The way you paused longest in front of the landscapes. The small private smile when something caught you, unannounced and unperformed. The fact that you knew which paintings were which without looking at the placards.
Initially she had been bracing herself for some level of awkwardness bred from the reminder that you existed in a different compartment of her life, one that didn't belong here under the high windows with her son. But you hadn't made it awkward. You just looked very content not to be alone on a Saturday, and it made her heart twist.
She felt herself begin to unknot.
"You come here often?" she nudged you with her hip as you walked again, and didn’t miss the way your eyes twinkled at the contact.
"Most weekends I'm not working," you tilted your head at the room around you. "There's a painting in the next gallery I've been coming back to for about a year."
"Which one?"
You smiled a little. "I'll show you when we get there."
In the decorative arts wing Kaveh grabbed your hand to drag you toward a suit of armor, and you let him, and Baran watched your face when he pressed his small nose against the visor to peer inside. The expression you wore was so soft, so unself-conscious, that it caught her off guard.
She had long wondered what you were like when you weren't managing anything at all, be it your poise at work or your manners in her apartment or your ecstasy in her bed. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was exactly what you looked like laid bare.
—
They reached the end of the last gallery with the slow inevitability of a good afternoon running out. Kaveh had gone boneless against Baran's side around the second hour mark, dragging his feet and clinging to her arm, suddenly non-verbal.
You crouched down to him. "It was very good to see you, Kaveh. Thank you for the statue tour."
"You can come next Saturday," Kaveh offered, hand reaching out to fiddle with the neckline of your shirt.
Baran watched your face. She saw you almost smile and then she watched you catch it and smooth it over.
"That's a very kind invitation," you said carefully, to Kaveh, but you were still looking at her.
The restraint of it was so practiced and so deliberate that it nearly hurt. She had put you here in this careful, curtailed space and you had stayed in it without a word of complaint, because she'd asked you to a few months ago. Please don’t ask about my ex-husband, please don’t ask about my son. You had nodded and respected it ever since, because that was the kind of person you were.
She had an empty afternoon ahead of her, but you were full of so many little pieces that had started to crack away from your skin and fall into her palm just over the course of an hour. She wanted more. She wanted every shard until she could build your full mosaic.
"We were going to get lunch," Baran said. "There's a place around the corner Kaveh likes."
She paused, small and deliberate.
"I would like it if you came."
Baran watched the surprise dance across your eyes even though you tried to remain nonchalant. You were a very smart girl and she knew you understood exactly what she was actually saying. This was very different from when you would brush shoulders in the hospital, or when your phone would buzz with a "Are you free tonight?"
"Are you sure?" you asked softly.
"Very sure," she said, then raised her brow with a smirk. “Do I have to say please?”
You looked at her for a beat longer, something soft and open moving through your expression, and then you smiled so large it changed your whole face.
"Okay," you said. "I'd like that."
Kaveh grabbed both your hands at once, one each, and lurched forward without ceremony.
armed and dangerous⋆ 𖤓 ⋆˚࿔ (baran al-hashimi x wife!reader) is it really any surprise that baran goes all out for her son's bring-your-parent arts and crafts day?
the pitt au | established relationship | ~2.7k | divider cred |
notes: all fluff, just baran being a little bit of a control freak!!
FAMILY CREATIVITY DAY! Saturday, October 12th, 10am–12pm. Join us for a morning of art, connection, and fun! All families welcome. Light refreshments provided.
You hum at the flyer that Kaveh's teacher handed to you through the car window while you were waiting in the carline. A Saturday. You weren't on call and neither was Baran.
You take a picture of it right there in the pickup line, the car behind you be damned, and text it to your wife.
you: [image attached]
you: thoughts
The three dots appear immediately. She must be on a break.
🤎: Oh, this is very cute. I wonder what the project is.
🤎: Do you think it's something we bring materials for or they provide everything?
🤎: Also what does "light refreshments" mean?
🤎: Are we talking fruit and crackers or are we talking actual food? Are we expected to bring anything?
🤎: I can stop at Giant Eagle on the way home from work.
🤎: Do you think any of the kids have nut allergies? Would you please ask Kaveh?
You stare at your phone. The car behind you honks. You pull forward six inches.
you: are you fr right now
🤎: What?
you: b, it’s an art event for second graders
🤎: ??
you: "light refreshments" will mean a little bowl of goldfish crackers next to a juice box situation
🤎: I already looked it up on the school website, it says "collaborative mixed media collage" which is actually really fun. Mel was just telling me how collage has such a rich history as an artistic medium—
You put your phone in your cupholder rather than finishing reading because you are in a school zone and you are a responsible adult. Also, you’re grinning so wide at the windshield that an elementary schooler who catches sight of you might shit their pants.
You pick the phone back up at the next red light.
🤎: —and i think i have some good scissors at home so the paper edges will be much cleaner.
you: you are not bringing your good scissors to kaveh's school
🤎: Sure I will. They can go my purse.
you: it’s not a bring your own scissors event, b
🤎: That is why I am going to put them in my purse. 🙂
—
Saturday arrives and Baran is up before you. You find her in the kitchen at eight-fifteen in her Lululemon set, her jug of a water bottle on the counter and a bowl of fruit cut into precise little cubes beside it. Kaveh is in his chair eating cereal. There is already, somehow, a small tote bag by the door, fit to bursting with supplies.
“Oh my god,” you stop walking. "Don’t tell me you packed a bag.”
"Kaveh packed a back," she corrects, without looking up from her phone.
You glance at your son, quirking a brow. He grins toothily and shakes his head.
"Right,” you grin, rounding the table to kiss his curls. “What’s in Kaveh’s bag?”
"Scissors and a bone folder. Oh, we also found some washi tape I had left over,” Baran lists, “Plus a few good magazine pages I pulled last night—"
"Y— Kaveh pulled magazine pages?"
"From the ones we were going to recycle anyway."
"When?”
“Last night?”
“Kaveh went to bed at 7.”
Baran frowns. “Well, I did the magazine part. I couldn't sleep."
Kaveh calmly takes a bite of cereal. "Maman also printed some pictures," he offers helpfully.
You turn to gape at your wife.
"They were reference images," she clarifies, taking large sip from the bucket bottle. "For composition."
"Baby," you say.
"Don't."
"Sweetheart."
"I mean it."
"It’s a second grade—"
"Kaveh, are you done with your cereal?" Baran asks, very loudly, in the direction of your son.
"Almost," says Kaveh.
"Take your time, azizam." She picks up her Hydroflask — truly the size of a small child, you've always thought, a gallon jug with a straw — and takes a long, dignified sip, looking at you over the rim with an expression that communicates, very clearly, that this conversation is over.
You love her so much it's honestly a little embarrassing.
—
Kaveh's school gym has been transformed, sort of. There are round tables covered in butcher paper and each table has a big tray of supplies in the middle, kids magazines, construction paper, tissue paper, glue sticks, safety scissors, stickers. A hand-lettered sign on the wall says CREATE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER and there are, as you predicted, goldfish crackers next to juice boxes on a folding table by the door. Kaveh's teacher greets you both near the entrance.
"Dr. Al-Hashimi, Dr. Y/L/N! So glad you could make it." She crouches to Kaveh's level. "Kaveh, do you want to pick your table?"
Kaveh points immediately at the table closest to the snack station.
"Fantastic choice, buddy," you tell him sincerely.
Ms. Blake straightens up and gestures broadly at the room. "So the project today is totally open, families just work together to make a collage. The theme is 'us,' so whatever that means to your family! There's no wrong way to do it. Just have fun."
"Wonderful," says Baran warmly. "Is there a particular size constraint on the final piece?"
"No constraint!" Ms. Blake says brightly. "Just whatever fits on the paper!"
"Great," says Baran. "And the adhesive provided is just the glue sticks?"
Ms. Blake blinks. "...Yes?"
"Perfect," says Baran, smiling. "Thank you so much."
You wait until Ms. Blake has moved on to the next family, then you turn to tease your wife, but her head is down into her tote back, hands already rummaging through it to pull out her own supplies.
“There she goes,” you whisper to yourself as Kaveh dashes off to greet his friends and their families who are taking their seats. “B, I need you to have fun."
Baran looks up from where she’s rummaging through the bag. "Sorry? I am going to have fun."
You put both hands on her shoulders, look her dead in the eyes, and say: "Baran. Please put the bone folder away."
She holds your gaze for a long moment.
Then she puts the bone folder back in the bag.
"Thank you," you say.
"You're lucky I love you," she frowns. You just laugh and kiss her cheek, leading her to the table by the small of her back.
—
Within ten minutes of sitting down, Baran has organized the supply tray. Not dramatically, just — tidied it. The magazines are stacked by approximate size. The tissue paper is in a small pile off to the side. She has looked through approximately forty pages of a National Geographic with the expression she wears when she's reading a lab result, head slightly tilted, completely still.
She pulls out a page. Blue water, some kind of aerial shot. Holds it up to the construction paper background she's already selected — a deep navy. Nods once, to herself.
"Maman," says Kaveh, who is on his third helping of goldfish and has crushed four capri suns, and has cut out a picture of a golden retriever with the safety scissors. "Can I put the dog on it?"
Baran looks at the dog picture, her navy paper. “Yes, fandogham. Let’s put it in the bottom left corner."
Kaveh slaps the dog picture enthusiastically in the center.
The corner of Baran's mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. You press your lips together.
"What if," Baran says carefully, "we tried it over here—" she nudges it gently toward the left— "just to give the other elements some room?"
"I like it better here," says Kaveh.
"I think the dog could stay," you tell her, rubbing a grounding circle on her back.
"The dog can stay," Baran says with a bit of tension to her voice. YOu watch her distract herself by trimming the edge of the blue water page with a precision that is making the dad at the next table visibly insecure. He has been trying to cut a straight line with the safety scissors for five minutes.
He glances at Baran's scissors.
"She came armed," you tell him, quietly, with great sympathy.
He tsks. “Smart woman. These safety scissors are sh— crap.”
You grin. “Oh man, don’t let her hear you say that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
A warm, amused voice from beside you, without looking up: "I can hear you."
—
Twenty more minutes pass.
"You know," you say conversationally, watching your wife hold a piece of tissue paper up to the light, "Ms. Blake said there's no wrong way to do it."
"Sure, but there is a right way," Baran replies, tilting it again. She notices a crinkle and frowns, placing it down and selecting a new one to inspect.
"Well, so, no. That is exactly the opposite of what she said."
Kaveh ignores you both, tongue sticking out as he sorts through the various little cutouts he’s made. He picks one and brandishes it to you guys.
“Is that a wheel of cheese, baby?” you beam.
"Uh-huh," he nods. “I’m gonna put it on.”
You look at Baran, who is trying so hard to fight back her grimace.
"Where are you thinking?" she asks.
Kaveh points to the upper right corner.
"Next to the moon?" Baran asks. Her task of the past ten minutes has been cutting out planets and stars and asteroids from a cosmology magazine she found in the stack. She’s been planning an elaborate sky.
"No, it is the moon," Kaveh says. “Like the story with the cow where she's playing the fiddle and jumps over the cheese moon.”
You pull a face. “I’m 90% sure that was a different story.”
"Interesting," Baran responds to him, elbowing you in the ribs, but she's smiling now. "Making it a celestial body. Kaveh, that's very creative."
Kaveh accepts this as his due. "I know," he says, and reaches for more goldfish.
—
About forty minutes in, you have, collectively: the aerial water shot, the cheese moon, a golden retriever and two dobermans, Spiderman next to a cutout of red carpet Lady Gaga (Kaveh really liked her outfit,) a cutout of that the tsunami from that one famous panting, some random house from that one realtor show with the twin brothers — all framed by four strips of washi tape that Baran has placed with a level of care that you find both ridiculous and deeply attractive.
You are in charge of the text elements, which means you are cutting letters out of magazine headlines. You are doing this badly. Your hand slipped cutting out the B so it looks like a 3. Your A is missing the crossbar.
Suffice to say, you can feel Baran sweating next to you.
"You can say it," you tell her, very focused on cutting out an H for Kaveh.
"You're doing great," she says, very carefully.
You hold up your jagged P. "I think I nailed this one."
She just hums, eyes not leaving your hands, and you decide to take pity on your wife.
"My love,” you say pleasantly, “Would you like to do the letters?”
Her hand is already out.
You grin “Wow, so you actually think I suck. I didn't even finish the thought.”
"Oh, you were going to offer me the scissors,” Baran teases, wiggling her fingers. “C’mon, we’re on the clock here.”
You put them in her hand. She's already reaching for the magazine before they've fully left your fingers, flipping through with the same focused efficiency she brings to everything, and within about thirty seconds she's found a headline she likes and is cutting clean and even. You try to absorb what it is she’s doing that you obviously were failing at, but aside from the fact she rotates the paper rather than the scissors, it seems just to be her. Naturally composed, completely absorbed, dedicated to the job.
Kaveh has pressed flower stickers up and down her sleeve at some point in the last twenty minutes. She hasn't said a word about it. She finishes the letters, wipes the dried glue off Kaveh's hands before her own, and then holds the collage out to him at arm's length, tilting it slightly.
"What do you think?" she asks him. "Is it good?"
“I think it’s okay,” he nods, “But look at what I found!”
He holds up a children’s magazine from the 1990s that has the three little pigs on the front. “It’s us!”
Your eyes giddily shoot to Baran’s, half expecting her to self-implode, but you’re surprised to find she’s grinning.
“I think you’re right,” she replies warmly, finger tapping the book. “I think that one is Mommy.”
You squint toward the one she’s pointing at. “What, why?”
“Because those two are doing labor,” Baran gestures to them, then lowers her voice to whisper in your hear. “Your piggy isn’t doing shit.”
“Woah!” you grin, “Hey, I’ve been trying to help but I keep getting benched.”
This is true. After Baran took over cutting you suggested adding some pretty little flower stickers on the “grass” (represnted by a thick strip of green paper Kaveh had pasted down) and were met with two resounding, disgusted Nos.
"Mmhm. Excuses, excuses," she tuts, already reaching for the magazine. You watch her carefully cut out the three little pigs with the same scissors she used for the letters, clean around every curve.
She hands the cutout to Kaveh, who immediately glues them down slightly crooked, but Baran just laughs.
You lean in and press your nose to her temple, just for a second, and she tips her head toward you without thinking about it.
"For what it's worth," she murmurs, "I think your piggy is very cute."
“That sounds like a terrible euphemism.”
She pulls back, scandalized, and slaps your arm. “We’re in our son’s second grade classroom.”
“He doesn’t know what that word means,” you defend with a beaming smile, then turn back to your son. She huffs, but she's smiling, and she stays leaning against you.
“Kav,” you prompt. “What do you think, bud? All done?”
He tilts it a full 360 degrees, mimicking his Maman, then nods. “All done.”
—
You carry the collage out to the car. Kaveh runs ahead to press his nose against the car window, which he does every single time, without fail, despite the fact that it is his car and he knows exactly what is inside it.
Baran falls into step beside you. Tote bag over one shoulder, Hydroflask in her other hand. The October air is cool and bright and the trees on the block are just starting to turn.
"Fun?" you ask.
She considers it the way she considers everything, properly, all the way down. "Yes," she says. "Really."
You look at her. The small smile she's not bothering to hide. The flower sticker still on her sleeve, right where Kaveh put it two hours ago.
"You know," you say, "the collage is really beautiful, B."
She glances at you sideways, a little pleased, trying not to show it. "Kaveh did most of it."
"Kaveh did the cheese moon and the three little pigs," you say. "You made it beautiful."
She's quiet for a moment. "It was a good morning," she says, simply, and you can hear everything she means by it.
You take the tank of a bottle from her so you can take her hand instead, and she lets you without comment, fingers finding yours easy and warm. You stop walking. She takes one more step before she realizes, and turns back to look at you, brow lifting slightly in question.
You answer it by stepping forward and kissing her, free hand wrapping around her waist. She makes a small sound against your mouth, warm and soft, tilting her head to make it deeper.
When you pull back she's looking at you with sparkly eyes and a pleased quirk to her lips. "What was that for?”
"You are a very good mom," you tell her. "And I had a really good day."
She holds your gaze for a moment, then pulls you back in by the front of your jacket and kisses you again, slower this time, high on happiness.
Kaveh peels himself off the window and turns around with a smear of grime across his forehead, a toothy grin on his face.
Baran pulls back, smooths your collar down with both hands, and goes to get the keys. She wipes the grime off with her sleeve, the flower-sticker side, and says absolutely nothing about it.
Dana who can’t spend a single day relaxing, even on her day off she still wakes up early and drags you along with her.
Dana who buys you a coffee and pastry before running errands because she doesn’t want you to be hungry.
Dana who affectionately holds you with one arm around your waist as you push the shopping cart and directs you through the store so she can pick out all the things you need for the house.
Dana who makes you stop in the skin care aisle so you can pick out some silly face masks because she enjoys it as self care and quality time with you.
Dana who insists on getting all your favorite things before they run out so you can always have what you want and need on hand.
Dana who buys flowers randomly because it’s a simple gesture that she didn’t get in her first marriage and you deserve them.
Dana who has to stop in the animal section to get your rescued cat and dog each their own new toys because they can never have enough.
Dana who refuses to let you pay for anything because she’s a nurse and makes more money than you.
Hi!! Could you please do Baran Al Hashimi X reader head cannons on what she would be like if you were married? And maybe towards the end what she would be like if you were pregnant - just like being protective and all that jazz while working in the Pitt? Thank you !!
Wife Baran Al Hashimi x F!reader headcanons
A/N: HERE YOU GO ANON!!! sorry that it took a bit i got kinda busy with uni 😓 I hope you enjoy it!!!
and I'm sorry but i don't know how to make the short sentence headcanons like everyone does 😭😭😭 is it because i'm a yapper or AM I DUMB
sorry for any spelling mistakes!! comments are always appreciated 🤍
Warnings: none!!! just fluff
𖦹 When Baran and you met at The Pitt, she had no idea how much you were going to change her life, and that a year and a half later she would be asking you to stay the rest of your life together. Honestly? she would've done it sooner if she wasn't wary of scaring you off.
𖦹 You and she are creatures of habit. Every morning Baran wakes up first, makes breakfast, sometimes she takes it to bed if you're too sleepy yet or you eat it together on the balcony. Something that never changes is the sloppy make out session that comes after it, before officially starting the day, she loves savouring the coffee in your mouth, she loves how you grab her disheveled hair and the smiles between kisses.
𖦹 At nights depending on how tired you are she waits for you to shower first and the other times you ask her to join you. Baran thinks she needs it more than you, the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability of helping the other wash their hair or their body, or grab each other just for the purpose of letting you know that she's there for you, that you are there, that none of you is going anywhere.
𖦹 She still struggles with reaching up to talk about her feelings, letting you know when she's feeling overwhelmed with guilt, or insecure about if she's making you happy, but you learn to catch these things quickly. You understand that she is bad with words, that in those moments she needs to cling to you and for you to reassure her. You don't mind doing this, you don't mind reminding her how much you love her, how glad you are that she welcomed you in her life and that you need her the same way she does.
𖦹 The days you two spend with Baran’s kid are probably your favorites, that boy seems to really enjoy having you around, and of course you love him too, as if he were yours. You respect Baran’s boundaries as her mother, but sometimes you can't help to spoil him a little, giving him an extra cookie when she already said that it was enough (she pretends not to notice) buying him something a little too expensive that he actually doesn't really need, and giving extra playtime just because he isn't ready to go to bed. Oh how her heart melts when she finds you with him sleeping in your arms, both totally exhausted.
𖦹 At work you two keep it professional, she doesn't doubt for a second that you can do your job perfectly, you also know that she's perfectly capable but it is inevitable that you worry about her shutting herself down, always searching for her eyes, squeezing affectionately her arm, grabbing her something to drink and when you make sure that no one is around a soft kiss on her knuckles.
𖦹 The routine changes a little after one night when you cook something delicious, later kissing her stomach and her neck, she knows that you want something. “Love.” “Hm?” “What is it?” You look at her with puppy eyes and she can't say she's surprised when you say that you want them to have a dog. She tells you that it would be too much responsibility, that a pet needs attention and you both work too much, that the animal will feel lonely, and you bring out the “okay then a cat and a dog so they can keep each other company.” And she doesn't exactly tell you no but you know she isn't sure. You can't help to incredulously laugh when she comes over with a puppy and a kitty that same weekend. She just can't resist doing everything you want.
𖦹 Now clothes are always hairy, and the house needs to be cleaned more consistently, and Milly howls too much and Daisy keeps scraping the sofa but Baran knows it's worth it when you and her son are playing with them and you fondly say “Our little family is growing.”
𖦹 You two weren't really planning to have kids yet but when you came out pregnant Baran couldn't have been happier, she didn't know how much she wanted to have another child, and you are so excited, you start writing lists of names, thinking about the things you want to buy, suggesting that maybe you both need to move to a bigger place, then auddenly you get nervous so she has to comfort you “You are already a great mom to him,” reminding you how much her kid loves you, and thinks of you as her other parent.
𖦹 Baran gets more protective, breaking the barrier she had before when it came to your marriage at work. It isn't directly a bad influence on her job, but she's all over you, tries to give you the least stressful cases, constantly asking how you are, if you need a break and yes, you are a bit overwhelmed by it at first but you understand that she is just worried, and that is true that you do need to start doing the less exposure to risk cases taking into notice that you work at an emergency department.
𖦹 It is a fact that your marriage is as loving and passionate as your relationship was, now you carry her surname and her child. She can't imagine how her life would be now without you and she doesn't want to, you ground her, you saved her. You are happy that she gave you a family, that you aren't on your own anymore, and you'll be happy as long as you have each other.
summary: baran comes home tipsy with a withheld complaint about the fundraising event hosted by PTMC.
you’ve fallen into a routine: waiting for her to get home as arash is tucked into slumber, giving her a summary of her son’s day, and then grounding her into her sacred space with a massage.
it’s different tonight, dealing with this for the first time—drunk, uninhibited baran—barely holding on to the self-restraint she’s been consistently upholding for weeks. falling for her sultry gaze with little to no resistance, while her attention zeroes in on concealing how you’re clenching your thighs every time she speaks, blurring the lines with complete abandon.
warning/s: dom, vers baran al-hashimi, slow burn, subtle dom/sub dynamics, praise, alcohol consumption, fingering, breast play, clit play, cunnilingus, dirty talk, spitting, multiple orgasms, face riding, baran speaking in farsi. baran seducing you to the max. robinabitch mention.
word count: 5, 339
author’s note: thank you lots for the patience. last part of the series is up!! 1/3 is the slow burn and the rest, well, you’ll know. ;) happy reading!
part one | series masterlist | navigation
men and minors DNI.
the keys turning overlaps the typing on your laptop.
“hey,” you utter, a barely-there smile from the older woman greeting you. she’s as gorgeous as she left the house, a boatnecked light ivory silk dress with a simple ivory slingback, hair pulled back in a messy bun, loose strands curtaining her face . the only difference is the frown it leaves you, taking in her stance; slightly uncoordinated balance, drooping shoulders, unpleasant in her updo. “hey, oh hey, you okay?” you shut your laptop and shove it in your tote. “you look…”
the thin curve of her lips turn into a big pout, brown doe eyes blinking at you expectantly.
“...exhausted,” you say, and as if on cue, baran lets out a loud sigh, collapsing against the doorframe. she puts her purse against her face and groans loudly.
“...and clearly frustrated.”
she mumbles something in farsi and kicks off her heels, “these stupid heels!”, watching the disorder and immediately placing them in the shoe rack by the door.
“they’re gorgeous, baran,” you insist, observing her next outburst. the older woman tends to let out her frustrations one at a time, mulling over her emotions and how best to express them. you believe her reluctance is in consideration of your well-being, preventing you from being a vessel of release from her troubles whether it be by work or life or something else.
the doctor gives you a quick look of irritation before charging onto the wine cabinet, barefoot with heavy footfalls. the hem glides along the flooring like a current.
she whips out a cabernet sauvignon and two wine glasses, setting them on top of the furniture, arranging them in a line. she quickly works through the bottle with a corkscrew, expertly twisting and turning. you’re completely immersed in the movement, her muscles flexing as she bites her lip in concentration, leaving a space of frustration in between furrowed brows.
you jump when it pops, the sound soothing the older woman to smile.
baran, ebbing from her flow, tilts her head to you with a slow eye flutter, “how is he? asleep?”
it takes you a second to respond, “yes, completely tucked in in his new sheets,” zeroing in on baran’s tight grip on the bottle, resulting in the flex of her biceps. you clear your throat, “he didn’t finish the pizza so you have six slices waiting for you in the fridge,” a grin blossoming in your face at the memory, snapping you back to sanity.
baran curves ones side of her lips upwards then pokes the inside of her cheeks. biting her lip yet again as she continues to stare, setting the bottle down in defeat. she groans, as if something is actively trying to take control over her.
“i don’t have the appetite after tonight,” she admits, “tomorrow for breakfast,” she promises, dejectedly bringing the cure to her problems towards you.
baran gracefully treads in your proximity, the flow of the fabric levitating her off the earth, gravity controlled like no other. the shade enhances the glow in her clear, olive skin, embracing her figure in the right places. the gears in your head turn a shade greener, noting how it clings to her like a second skin, putting all socialites to shame. jealousy is one of your strongest suits.
baran’s dress is backless, the light playing with the seduction of every depression and elevation of her back, her muscles toned but softened by the smooth skin. your tongue glides in the backs of your upper teeth as the dip on the low end gapes at you.
the hairs in your spine shoot up when her knuckles touch your palm, handing you a glass, resistance getting harder by the minute. her scent engulfs your senses, blurring your judgment, leaving you with less control. you can’t want this and so you want more.
you chuckle, “trouble in paradise?” assimilating in baran’s new emotion, never mind the ones she’s causing you.
she sighs, “far from paradise,” closing her eyes in disbelief. “it’s been literal hell since the other attending i substituted came back. you know, the one i told you about,” she conceded, taking a swig to her situation, forehead wrinkled in prolonged annoyance and misery.
“ah,” you utter, partially distracted.
scanning the movement of her throat as it bobs to the array of baby hairs on her temple where your desire begins and ends—wishing you could place a finger there, feel the pulse. prove it skips a beat when she looks at you.
baran stares, doe-eyed and all, in a way that almost answers your question.
you look away, flummoxed, heat pooling in your cheeks.
the older woman brings her glass forward and you follow, the clink appeasing the former, grinning at the progress of the night. it’s quite monumental to turn baran’s rotten night to almost rotten, but it overpowers the silent prayer you’ve sent out to sustain your bessotted state, distrusting your autonomy with a woman as beautiful as baran.
you feel your teeth grind as baran envelops her lips around the rim, stain leaving a mark, mixing in the maroon liquid. you’re not the classy type, at least, you’ve never tried to be, so this demonstration is a rare learning opportunity. that’s why you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a second of how much liquid the doctor takes in her mouth, when she swallows, and when she should want more. you’re too focused on baran to notice her eyes lingering on your thighs, watching intently as you squeeze them at her every move.
she hums, “you like it?” lowering her voice, waiting for your tics to open up to her.
this is a treacherous indulgence, but the pull is stronger than your agency, finding yourself batting your eyes at her, slowly nodding your head. she takes another sip to hide her smirk. the older woman grimaces, fingers massaging her left calf. as expected, you act on cue, obediently falling into the routine you and the doctor have fostered the past few months.
baran gingerly places a hand on your thigh, gripping it loosely. you stare at her hand and not her eyes.
“not today,” she says, coddling your name like a lullaby. you hesitate, unsure what else you’d be useful for. as if baran can read your mind, she licks her lips, blinking her eyes, “it’s okay, you don’t have to. you can just…just stay up here with me…”
she relaxes when you do, keeping an eye for a sudden shift in action. you tend to end up committing to your own whim, and she preferred to be in on it. despite the uncertainty, baran focuses on reassuring you, rubbing your upper back and giving you a soft smile.
settling into the couch, she sighs, “you don’t know how grateful i am for you to be here…” crossing her legs, the sound of silk giving you butterflies in the stomach. she nudges at your wine glass. you take a sip, afraid, interested, reluctant. nights with the al-hashimis typically end in massages or past midnight conversations about diego and work. you’ve refused a sleepover multiple times even with the insistence on your safety, baran’s concern and doting eyes almost deciding against your boundaries. you hate the idea of giving her more things to worry about; accommodation, extra pay, and a shoulder to cry on.
“likewise. it’s the highlight of my day,” you half-tease, a brow lift tilting your axis like never before. smug, she asks, “not my son?”
“oh he’s brilliant, of course, but he wouldn’t be a happy child without his amazing mother and…”
this should be like one of those days, but baran is staring at you differently, as if she’s stripping you away from the title, as if she’s scanning what else lies beneath there.
baran finishes her portion and takes the entire bottle, drinking from the source, her eyes never leaving yours.
she swipes a speck of red at the side of her mouth then sucks on her thumb.
you gulp a load of saliva down your throat.
“be careful now, we wouldn’t want your other clients hearing the best babysitter in town has a preference,”
baran’s lipstick has stained the glass that’s now on the table, transferring the color there, leaving her lips a little less flashy, a little more domestic. subdued. delectable. irresistible.
she licks her lips and a few of her saliva stays at the flesh, catching the light, illuminating the plumpness.
“they’ve got to deal with it,” you start, swirling the red in the glass, catching the one second bite of her lower lip, “you’re my favorite.”
it comes out the way you didn’t intend to, shifting the atmosphere completely, the momentum causing you to squirm in the feeling of intimacy, the lines tangling without end.
baran chuckles, the sound sending a shot of electricity down the middle of your thighs.
she shakes her head, slurring, “khoda rahmat koneh,” racking her brown doe eyes all over your face, amusement and esteem glowing off of her.
“what did you just say?”
“chi? ah, i can’t believe you’re in my life right now,” baran acknowledges, dribbling over at her words, giggling as she takes another sip. her eyes dilate.
“is that so?”
“no, not really,” she admits, teasing with her gorgeous smile, doctor doe eyes bright and big as ever.
you shake your head.
“you know, if i had you there by my side, i sure wouldn’t be as grumpy as i was the moment the other attending–robinavitch—greeted me at the door–”
“the one you told me about?”
the doctor groans and puts a hand on her forehead. “yes,” she exasperated.
“that bad?” you gasp, seeing her pout for a second. “i’m sorry you didn’t invite me,” you chaff, receiving another doe-eyed look you can’t pronounce. baran’s eyes are completely dilated, examining your every move, like you were a set of organs for her to operate on.
“i would know what to do next time,” she settles.
baran shifts her attention to your barely-drank red wine. she purses her lips, waiting for your next move. when you don’t—helplessly staring at her—she places the bottle at the coffee table, occupying her hand with yours. she decides then, to help you out, generously drinks half of the liquid, flickering her eyes between your hands and your thighs, lightly quivering.
you poor thing.
the older woman shifts closer to you, swirls the red in its carrier, and places her thumb on your chin. she rotates the glass, presses your lips against the stain of her lipstick, red liquid dripping into it.
fuck.
you can barely breathe.
“wouldn’t want it going to waste,” she croons.
fuck.
“y-yeah, right, of course, i-i’m–”
“you don’t have to apologize,” she counseled, shaking her head.
you feel faint.
you’d be the first to stutter while humming, your body in an extreme fight-or-flight mode response that brainlessly grabs your tote, a chant of a final goodbye about to roll out of your tongue. you could barely register the fact you’ve buried yourself six feet deep the moment you started dreaming about the older woman, forgetting to realize that the only way to make it out alive is whether or not baran wants to provide a helping hand.
baran catches your wrist the moment you stood up, looking up at you like she knew all along an escape route brewed the moment she walked through the door. she tilts her head, “come here,” uncrossing her lap, coaxing you to sit.
you obey instantly, farewell out the door, leaving without you, shaking in its boots.
baran tugs your wrists and you find yourself spreading your legs, bearing your entire weight into her lap. your feel your clitoris pulse at the contact.
you’re staring at the contrast, silk and cotton-polyester in contact, wondering if it’ll ever get to grinding. if it’ll remain a divide between you and your desires.
baran’s amused to say the least, knowing you’d hide in your shell, timidly casting your head down, waiting until you’re brave enough to face her. she knows you won’t, putting a hand on your shoulder and running it through your arm. you shiver, meeting her brown orbs when she tilts your chin upwards.
“you want this?” she asks, eyes glazed over, holding onto her final restraint, squeezing your hand in the process.
you nod your head.
she sighs in relief, nudging her nose with your own, breath ghosting over your lips. you could almost feel her, you’re so close. you feel her grin, bowing her head to catch your lips, pressing a kiss on your bottom cusp.
she’s soft, warm, heady with a mix of red wine.
baran pulls away to see how you are, glee spreading throughout her body as she watches you with eyes closed, going back in for a peck, and then another. and then some more, gliding her tongue inside your mouth with a moan.
you grind into her lap when the noise breaks out, a smile and a sigh between kisses. snaking her hands around your waist as you place yours on her cheeks, clipping the loose strands of hair behind her ear.
baran’s cheeks have blossomed out in a feverish blush, panting as she pulls away, scanning your disheveled state. she gives you a peck before she grabs the wine bottle in her hand, rubbing your thigh. she takes a sip and dives back into your kiss, pulling you closer into her, passing the wine into your mouth, draining it with vigor.
you whine, feeling the liquid in your mouth, tartly sweet and something else that’s just baran.
and then you’re both just hungry.
you pounce onto her, grabbing the nape of her neck and completely pressing yourself against her, kissing her ferociously, lapping at her mouth with no abandon. baran tightens the grip on your hips and guides them, humping her thigh at a steady pace. she latches onto your tongue and begins to suck it, her vice-grip and the squelch getting you wetter and needier.
you whine when she pulls away, sending sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at the flesh, grazing her tongue ‘til she reaches the side just below your jaw. she hums before she sucks at your pulse point, causing your eyes to roll back, your body tingling at the pleasure.
a long moan draws out of you.
“that’s it,” baran sighs, your lower lip in between her teeth.
your sweatpants come off, lifting your hips to be manhandled, knees wobbly, trembling at the idea of being completely undressed by the older woman. she looks absolutely stunning in the disheveled dress you desperately want to take off.
you find her mouth again, hot and heavy, completely mixed with hers and your saliva. you think there’s nothing hotter than that until baran’s rubbing you through soaked panties, moaning as she pushes them to the side.
“i-i-i can’t w-“
she slips a finger in.
her slender middle finger, finding the warmth inside your pussy, impatiently needy for your reaction.
“ah!” you yelp, gripping on her shoulders. she brings you closer with a hand on your hip.
“that’s it,” she says between gritted teeth.
it’s slow, experimental, precisely stretching you open with one, gauging your tolerance.
“is this okay?” she asks, putting her forehead against yours, her breath deepening as they mingle with yours. you nod your head with a huff.
baran pushes another finger in. you whine, rolling your hips into her digits, her fingers filling you.
“let it out. good girl, good girl,” she whispers with a slight growl, clenching her thighs at the image of her fingers disappearing completely in your pussy, rolling out coated with a white string of your cum.
baran chuckles with a moan, licks a stripe of your neck, then murmurs, “you feel so good…”
“…you feel so good,” you pant in return.
she grabs your jaw, causing your eyes to flutter open, dense and glazed over. her breath shatters at the state she’s put you in, drunk and needy with arousal. she swallows your moans with her mouth, shoving her tongue inside, whimpering as you flick around the muscle.
“i’ve waited so long for this. you’re exactly as i imagined you would be,” she confesses in your mouth, can’t get enough.
“w-what is that?” you cry in between moans, close to the edge. the older woman tightens her grip in your hips, no longer guiding them, allowing them to move at their own accord, feral and wanton to climax.
“a good, obedient girl.”
your back arches at the title.
“a loud, responsive little thing…”
cries when she flicks a thumb against your clit.
“…all because of me.”
baran beholds the sight of you: mouth open with a string of moans, eyes clamped shut as the aftershock leaves your body with your cum. she kisses your cheek and whispers praises you could barely make out due to the intensity of the orgasm, her entire palm open onto your back, supporting you.
you slump against her body, responding with an embrace that makes you warm.
you take baran’s face in both hands and kiss her with gratitude, passion, and a request for more.
you tug at her dress, giving her a look of need.
the older woman’s lips curl into a smirk.
“you think i’m done with you?”
baran leads you to the bedroom.
it’s surreal to be finger-fucked by the doctor, but here you are, being dragged with an impatient hand to her sanctuary for more. the place you refused to bring arash to despite protest, aware you’re not worthy enough to step foot inside. it changes tonight.
baran couldn’t wait to land you on the bed, all over your body once more, sandwiched against the door. breathing you in like she’s in her natural habitat, wet, open-mouthed kisses, ravishing you completely into submission.
she inhales in the crook of your neck, sighing, “you smell so good,” placing her thigh in between your legs and pushing your pelvis down against it. she pulls your tee off, grunting as your lace bra takes her away her inhibition and restraint.
she’s starving, this woman, kissing the valley of your breasts, nipping and licking at the exposed skin. you sigh, scratching her crown, her messy bun undone, the ponytail hanging on for dear life. pulling the pad down your breast, baran licks her way down toward the tissue right next to your bud, cooing as you whimper. “you want more, huh?”
you nod your head.
“what do you want?” she challenges, swiping a finger against your nipple, chuckling in amusement at your obvious shudder. exposed under her gaze, you whine, gripping on her neck.
“what do you want?”
“your mouth sucking on my—mhm!”
there she goes, burying her face in your tits, bent down at an angle to give you what you need, sucking your nipple as she fondles with your other breast, rolling the bud in between fingers, staring up at you with a content smile.
her eyes twinkle at the beautiful sight.
baran detaches her mouth away from your nipple, a string of saliva connecting them.
“i need more of you. get on the bed,” she orders, raking her eyes at you from head to toe. “walk backwards. slowly. don’t look away from me,” giving you an appreciative nod as you follow her exact order.
her gaze latches onto you like a leech, calculating every movement, “stop-!”
your ass lands on the mattress, the backs of your knees sending you there. “i’m sorry–“ you start, about to stand up until baran holds a hand. she shakes her head.
“it’s okay, stay put,” she says, drawing closer to you.
“take off your dress, baran. i want to see you too,” you plead.
the older woman sniggers, giving you a look as if she can’t believe you’re exchanging orders, bossing her around without consequence. you tense as she floats closer, still fully clothed, holding all the power. your head buzzes at the sight, at her command, and the aftershocks from the orgasm of her doing.
“i sag larzan,” she coos, lips pouting in adoration.
she’s in front of you now, tall and gorgeous, scanning your frame like a predator. dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, smirking at you, ready to pounce. she hums, neatly tucking loose hair behind your ears, tilting your chin up.
baran unclasps the hook of her dress, the fabric opening down at her torso. she drags it slowly, keeping her eyes on you and your reaction, letting out a silent hum when your mouth opens in admiration. she kicks the discarded dress to the side, leaving only her undergarment, top completely bare. you begin to drool.
baran’s confidence is inspiring, straightening her posture, slightly pushing out her chest towards you.
“my eyes are up here,” she husks, her deeper tone snapping your attention back to her face, the one that makes you soak her pristine sheets.
“i’m sorry,” you whisper, automatically peaking at her hard-rock nipples, stiff and awaiting your mouth.
“shma npastid? are you?”
the older woman raises a brow, taking your chin in between index and middle, pressing on the crease, causing your mouth to open. you could only nod your head.
baran lowers her neck, mouth only a few centimeters separating you. her doe eyes, oh-so-black in dilation, glinting as she weighs her choices, checking in with you silently. you tremble under the intensity of her gaze. piercing through your soul and your bundle of nerves. she makes up her mind in the end,
pulling spit from her mouth to yours, the action causing you to grind against the mattress, your moan covered by her mouth. pushing her spit deeper, mixing your own saliva with hers. she slowly lays you down the bed, pressing herself on top of you, her biceps propping her up.
the older woman bats her doe eyes at you, staring at you with such care, “are you still with me on this?” making sure you’re both still on the same page. you nod, speechless. her face softens with concern, almost maternal. “i’m okay. are you okay?”
she furrows her brows, caressing your cheek with a thumb, pressing a kiss on your temple.
she hums in acknowledgment.
“yes, yes,” she mumbles in your mouth, kissing you softly, languidly caressing your tongue with her own, getting lost in the warmth of your mouth.
she kisses down your body, gently, as if she’s finally realizing the weight and fragility of it. it makes you weak in the knees because not only is it baran with you, the woman that somehow invaded your dreams every night, but it has been so long since you've kissed someone passionately, with a promise.
baran pays attention to your other breast this time, flicking your nipple with a loose tongue, tweaking the other, humming when you hit a moan, making a mental note of your tics.
she nips and sucks a trail at the plane of your torso, caressing your sides with a featherlight touch, sucking the rim of your navel. she grins as you shift at the action, sticking and flicking a tongue in your navel. she’s the first to give this to you it seemed. she grazes her teeth down to the band of your soaked panties.
the older woman lifts her head up, humming in content. “you’re beautiful,” she sighs and you melt.
baran grazes her nose along the fabric of your underwear, mouthing at your labia. she huffs, rolling her eyes back as she inhales your scent, tongue swiping at your clothed pussy in the process. you whine, hips bucking, pulling away as to not aggravate you as much, although knowing you’d react this way.
she presses a kiss at the wet spot.
“spread your legs,” she exhales, excitedly abiding her wish.
“good girl,” she moans, licking and sucking at your inner thighs, just relishing in the heat you’re radiating. she tugs your waistband and you lift your hips, the last piece of garment fulfilling your nudity.
“pashman,” baran exasperates and moans your name, gritting her teeth, holding back from outright devouring you.
she wants this to last. she wants this imprinted on her mind for months to no end, erasing the ones before you, reshaping her into a better woman. she wants this to be as sacred as yours. she wants this for the both of you.
baran presses a kiss on your folds, separating them with a swipe of her tongue, the tip landing against your clitoris. you arch your back, gripping the sheets. she flicks it a few times, brown eyes looking up at you, intertwining her fingers with yours. your legs tremble at the stimulation, unable to wrap your head around the fact that she’s in between your legs, fully focused on your pleasure. your blinding, hot, pleasure.
she nuzzles her mouth against your clit, dragging her tongue across your hole, probing it, letting out a strangled moan as you grip her head with your thighs, sighing in pleasure. you’re so wet, cum dripping down your thighs, mixing the previous orgasm and the cum she’s slurping out of you.
“you taste so good,” baran mumbles, mouth full of your pussy. you sob, closing in on your climax already, meeting her lips and tongue with the drive of your hips. she moans and it vibrates through your bundle of nerves, setting you off deeper. “baran…” you whimper, grabbing a few locks of hair.
she grunts and rolls her head back, lapping up at your wet folds, grabbing your thighs and spreading them even more. she pulls away for a second to get a better view of your reactions, slamming two fingers inside your stretched hole.
“yes?”
you cuss, holding onto her wrist and then back at the sheets, panting out her name.
“baran, baran, baran..!”
it gets you closer, hips coming off the mattress, just rolling and rocking, the squelch of your juices resounding throughout her bedroom. “you’re close, aren’t you? you need me right now, don’t you?”
you nod your head, an inaudible plea coming out of your mouth, full of saliva and the older woman’s name. baran lets out a strangled moan and dives back into you, “come for me, please, please come in my mouth,” losing herself in your pussy, grinding her core against the mattress. it feels so good, grabbing onto her for dear life, scraping her scalp and hearing her name fall from your lips as you fall apart for her yet again.
panting through your orgasm, the older woman flattens her tongue and cleans you up, sucking in the remaining juices she has yet to devour. she’s a neat freak, so it only makes sense she keeps your pussy clean as well.
baran kisses your inner thighs, breathing you in, making her way up your chest and neck, peppering wet kisses and leaving words of praise. “you did so good for me,” she coos, pecking your lips before covering them with a swipe of her tongue, capturing your whimper in her mouth.
her eyes are twinkling at you. she grins, mouth swollen and wet.
“you made me so wet, did you know that?”
you shake your head, blissed out. “i did?”
“no? you were too drunk with pleasure, weren’t you?”
after nodding your head, she giggles, shifting away, taking off her lace panties.
“can i use your mouth?” she asks, so cute and so breathless.
“yes, of course, please-“ you respond, getting up, but baran just pushes you back down.
“i want to ride your face ‘til i come, koodak,” she purrs, batting her eyes at you.
“fuck,”
she chuckles.
“will you give it to me?”
so demanding, so bossy.
“anything you want,” is your only response.
she moans and kisses you, before rearranging your position, making sure you’re comfortable in the pillow, gracefully placing herself on top of you, hands grabbing the headboard, tilting her neck downwards to situate herself on your face.
“okay down there?”
you hum in acknowledgment, grabbing the backs of her thighs, pulling her down. she hisses as her slit gets in contact with your lips, beginning it with a peck.
the sight of her pussy makes you drool, drenched and ready for the taking. the older woman didn’t lie. she needs this as much as you do. you part her folds with your lips, burying your tongue inside, finding her clit and giving it a good suck.
“oh fuck,” baran moans, long and drawn out, thighs quivering. you hear the creak of the headboard and know it’s about to be obnoxiously loud. your head roils in complete bliss, mouth drenched in baran’s cum, the consistency thick and intoxicating. “like that?”
baran hums, the dirty talk causing her hips to jerk, sudden and then steady, finding herself a rhythm. she pulls back, sets both palms against the mattress, bearing her weight completely at an angle. she grins when you come up for air, overcome with the urge to give her what she needs.
it’s electric, giving her what she needs, the older woman’s face constricted in pleasure, sweat building on her forehead, brown hair frizzled out by her need to please as well. baran has a few moles littered across her body, her chest clear of them, bouncing and jiggling at her thrusts against your mouth.
you slither a hand through her torso, grabbing a tit. she pushed her core harder against your mouth, convulsing at the action, arching her head back as you pinch her nipple and suck on her clit at the same time, examining her every move. she grabs your hand and places it back on her thighs, replacing it with her own, moaning your name as she stares deep into your eyes.
you moan, the vibration causing her hips to stutter, toppling over back against the headboard, unable to prop herself in the position she was in, about to spill. baran mumbles a few words in farsi, inaudible, only for her own pleasure, placing one hand against your crown, sweat dripping down her forehead.
you groan, nudging your nose against her clit before pulling it in your mouth, giving it a hard suck, the movement setting her over the edge.
you keep lapping at her pussy, head constricted in between baran’s trembling thighs, a keen cry releasing from the coiling tension in her abdomen. caressing her skin into the aftermath of her orgasm, your mouth latching onto her until she lets go.
it takes baran a minute to ride it out, her breathing beginning to even out, halting her movements completely, unlatching herself from your mouth. you swipe the cum off your face with your tongue, a loud hitch of inhale coming from the older woman, whose eyes were on you the entire time. you grin, sheepish, “can’t help it,” honest with a hoarse voice.
“i’m sure,” she responds sarcastically, situating herself in between your thighs, nuzzling her face in your neck. “are you tired, are you okay?”
you tilt your head to the side so you can see her face. you give her an incredulous look, teasing.
“my, my. do you want to go again? and here i thought i couldn’t have enough,”
she grins, eyes wide and adoring. she pinches your cheek. “that’s why i’m offering, because i know you want more!”
“look at you! who doesn’t!” you kiss her cheek. baran tilts her head away and flutters her eyes, cheekbones pointed out of skittishness. she buries her face in your neck again, finding solitude there.
“okay, but we need a water break,” she settles, mumbling in your neck.
“i’m sorry, what was that? i couldn’t hear you,” you rib, placing a hand on the back of her head. your laughter fades into a moan as baran licks your earlobe. “you were saying?”
“you’re insufferable,” you settle, watching her face appear in front of you. she’s glowing, mouth swollen by your deeds, baby hairs moist in perspiration. she looks so comfortable, so at home in your arms.
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
You’re out for drinks with some of the night shift crew, but you can’t stop texting and calling your girlfriend.
Notes: some tooth-rotting fluff to offset the angst that is to come with other fics. alcohol, hurt/comfort, minor anxiety attack, neurodivergent reader, sexting, masturbation
Baran hears the ping of two text messages from the end table, but it isn’t your text tone, so she ignores it. It’s a Thursday night, and she’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and a memoir she’s been meaning to read for a while, a mug of tea close by.
The house is emptier than usual. Baran’s son is with his dad for the weekend, and you’re at a bar with Shen and Ellis. The three of you try to go out semi-regularly. First it was to blow off steam with fellow “night crawlers” — a name Baran found distasteful but liked the way you said it low in her ear. But then Shen and Ellis started dropping by for dinner, and Baran was grabbing lunch with Shen without you, and before any of you realized it you’d all become friends.
Still, going out is more your thing, and Baran rarely drinks, so she gave you a lingering kiss goodbye and told you to be safe and have fun.
Your text tone sounds in the quiet living room, and Baran sets down her book, reaching over to grab her phone. You usually send her a selfie or two when she’s not out with you, something Baran always looks forward to. Reading the texts on her lock screen, however, draws a frown.
9:24 pm
John Shen: I fucked up
9:25 pm
John Shen: It’s probably fine
9:28 pm
Azizam: do you still love me?
Worry and irritation well in Baran in equal measures. She taps the call button, feeling you probably need to hear the answer in your ear and not from a screen.
9:29 pm
Outgoing call: Azizam
Call declined.
Baran’s worry grows, and her fingers fly. As an emergency medicine doctor, she’s adept at remaining measured and logical in almost any situation, but when it comes to you or her son, something much more urgent and primal fights for dominance.
9:29 pm
You: You know I love and adore you very much.
You: Is everything OK?
9:30 pm
Azizam: can’t talk they’re playing party in the usa
9:30 pm
You: And that’s more important than finding out if I still love you?
9:31 pm
Azizam: needed to hype myself up in case
This does not ease Baran’s worry. She knows you know, on some level, this is silly. If Baran were ever going to say something so devastating — and she had no plans to — she wouldn’t do it over text while you’re at a bar. But you are in your head enough to type it out and send it, which twists in Baran’s gut.
9:31 pm
You: Please call me when your song is over, so you can hear me say it.
Azizam reacted with: ❤️
Baran opens her thread with Shen, her irritation now simmering into something resembling a rubber band pulled taut right at his head.
9:31 pm
You: Are you the reason my girlfriend is asking me whether I still love her?
9:33 pm
John Shen: Shit
9:34 pm
Incoming call: Azizam
“Am I being needy?” are your first words to her, nearly shouted over the club music blasting through the earpiece.
Baran takes the phone an inch away from her ear, blinking, a weary hum catching in her throat. She’s not a fan. And neither are you — too chaotic and overstimulating. Probably Shen’s choice in venue tonight.
There have been times that Baran’s had to keep a steady, grounding hand on the nape of your neck and another on your knee to keep it from bouncing. You’re a good sport — always wanting to be supportive of Shen’s favorite spots, a quality she loves about you — but there are nights the two of you just go home. And in the quiet car, you hide your overwhelmed and embarrassed tears in the window as Baran rubs the top of your thigh.
It’s something you perceive as a contradiction to how cool and collected you are as an emergency medicine doctor. Baran recognizes it as rooted in control because she too needs it in certain ways to feel safe. You’re a skilled physician — you expect all possible scenarios, and you’re prepared for each one. You know how to mentor because you know how residents work, what they need, how they learn. It’s all planned and logical and built from years of experience and practice. Outside of work, things are more unpredictable. And loud crowds are one of your more sensitive spots. You’re ashamed of it, but Baran has never once made you feel that way.
You sound anxious and unsure on the phone. Baran takes a breath and settles deeper into the couch. She wishes she were there with you.
“Honey, where is this coming from?” she asks softly, carefully.
“That’s not a no.”
Baran presses her lips together. We’re not doing logic tonight, she sees.
“Asking me one time if I love you does not make you needy. But it does make me worry,” she says with so much love and gentleness. It seems to break through to you.
“I’m just anxiety spiraling,” you groan, the sounds of the club getting a degree quieter. Baran frowns and circles her fingers soothingly around her forearm, imagining it’s yours.
“Walk me through it.”
Talking through your thought process doesn’t always make you see a situation more clearly, but it’s the best Baran can do so far away.
“It’s stupid. This club is too loud. It’s crowded, and I’m hot, and I’m, like, trying not to make the walls close in by taking shots. And I just…is me being on nights hurting us? Are we okay? I feel like you’ve been distant lately, and —”
“Azizam, pause. Take a breath,” Baran cuts you off, firm but tender. It’s exactly what she suspected was happening, minus taking shots to quell a panic attack, which is something she’ll address in more depth with you later. “If I weren’t happy with any aspect of our relationship, I would tell you. You’ve never had to guess how I’m feeling. That’s still true.”
Baran pauses, listening, but you’re quiet, and she thinks there may be something hot clawing up your throat. So she just breathes evenly on the phone with you, and when she thinks you’re okay, she speaks.
“I love you. More than words.”
“I love you,” you sigh, the tension gone from your voice. There’s her girl. A small smile tugs at Baran, and she’s itching to hug you and kiss your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
“Are you satisfied?” she teases lightly.
“Can you say it again?”
Baran smiles lazily, chewing her lip. She likes when you ask for what you need.
“Kheyli dooset daram. I love you very much. With all my heart.”
“Mmm. Okay, I’m satisfied,” you hum happily, and Baran’s heart swells.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, drink water, call me if you need me, and come home to me soon.”
“I love you so much.”
When you end the call, Baran takes a deep breath and opens her texts with Shen.
9:41 pm
You: What the fuck did you say to her?
9:43 pm
John Shen: She was saying how she wants to feel closer to you since you’re on opposite shifts, and I told her not to stress it. Everyone goes through rough patches
9:44 pm
You: Are you kidding me?
You: What would possess you to say that?
Especially in a place already known to make you anxious, Baran thinks.
9:45 pm
John Shen: Like I said, I fucked up
John Shen: I wanted her off the trail!
John Shen: 💍💍💍
Baran laughs humorlessly, shaking her head as she types, a scoff under her breath.
9:45 pm
You: ???
You: She wasn’t ON the trail.
9:55 pm
John Shen: I thought you were planning something or whatever??
9:56 pm
You: Yes, and I would prefer she not think I’m breaking up with her when it happens.
Baran told Shen she’s planning to propose specifically so that he could tell her if you started to suspect — not for him to actively make you think Baran is harboring ill will toward you. Most of your shifts were together, so he saw you more than most. He would have a fairly accurate read on your mindset.
You and Baran have talked about your future together several times, and you’re both on the same page. A proposal wouldn’t be unexpected, but Baran wanted it to be a surprise. She didn’t want you coming home one day already knowing. None of this, of course, stops Baran from being terrified you’ll say no. She loves you so much it hurts sometimes, and she cannot imagine doing the rest of this life without you. And asking you to marry her puts that all on the line.
Baran takes a breath and tosses her phone to the other side of the couch. She tries to focus back on her book with little success and wonders if she should get Ellis involved to run interference on Shen. No, that would be an even worse idea.
Her phone pings, and she grabs it.
10:02 pm
John Shen: Well, she seems fine now
Baran rolls her eyes and stands up. She needs a long, steamy shower.
10:35 pm
Azizam: parker is being disgusting
Azizam: she knows i’m yearning and she’s being cruel by making out with someone right in front of me
Baran sees the text when she’s doing her skincare routine and chuckles, the mirror still fogged up. She finishes rubbing lotion into her leg before replying.
10:42 pm
You: I highly doubt it’s malicious, my love.
You: You’re yearning?
You get cute when you’re drunk, clingy and sweet. A little too loud, a little chaotic, but you always come back to Baran and give her the softest, most pathetic eyes as your hand slides places it shouldn’t be in public and you kiss her cheek and her ear until Baran shivers and pulls you reluctantly away.
Your next text comes through as Baran settles on top of the covers, resolved to stay up a while longer and wait for you. She doesn’t always, but you’re dipping into a neediness Baran can never resist.
10:47 pm
Azizam: can you send me a pic of your lips?
10:47 pm
You: No?
10:47 pm
Azizam: pretty pretty please, sweetie
10:48 pm
You: You have many, many pictures of me on your phone.
10:49 pm
Azizam: i want your lips
Azizam: i want to kiss you
Baran’s stomach flips, and when it settles, there’s heat swirling low in her core. She licks her lips, sitting up in bed.
10:49 pm
Outgoing Facetime: Azizam
As soon as the call connects, Baran sees your flushed, grinning cheeks as they come closer to the screen. You give it several exaggerated, smacking kisses before pulling your phone back a respectable distance. Baran hums, a lovesick smile on her face, eyes hooded.
“You know, you can come home and kiss me yourself,” she says, lolling her head to the side as she watches you.
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
“Am not. Still true, though.” There’s a slight slide to your words that you clearly don’t hear. You frown. “Did you shower without me?”
Baran’s hair is damp, and her skin is glowing with various oils and creams that you always tell her smell wonderful right before you dip your nose into the skin behind her ear, lips skating. And the only thing Baran can think about is how she wants you in her arms.
“It’s almost 11 pm, azizam. Yes, I showered without you.”
“Baby, no!” You look urgently devastated, a dramatic groan leaving your lips, petulant in a way you only are when you’re disinhibited. Like when you match her son’s early morning grumbles over a healthy breakfast instead of pancakes, Baran shouldn’t, but she finds it endearing.
You love showering with Baran — for more than just the obvious reasons. There’s something reverent in the way you often insist on taking a soapy washcloth to Baran’s body, trailing over her curves as you pull her close and leave delicate kisses to her shoulder. Or, you just watch her with the most loving, steady eyes. And when she lets you wash her hair, you dig expert fingers into her scalp, and she always leans back into you, humming contentedly. You don’t even have to touch her, and Baran has never felt more worshipped than when she’s naked with you.
Before Baran can tell you she’ll shower again if it’ll wipe away that sad puppy dog look, Ellis is sliding up next to you.
“You are bringing down the energy in this whole fucking club,” she accuses playfully, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing. “B, no offense, but your girlfriend is kind of codependent and sappy when she’s drunk.”
“I am not drunk!” you insist, looking at Ellis, who raises her brow and glances between you and Baran as if looking for backup.
“You are, eshgham,” Baran agrees easily. Ellis grabs the phone from your hand.
“Byeee!” she grins at Baran. The call ends.
Both Ellis and Shen have an ease to them that she doesn’t see in the day shift. They have their flaws — both a little too unsympathetic in the ED for Baran’s taste — but they have firm boundaries and shed their work personas like snakes each morning, something she respects. And around the dinner table, they’re funny and easy to be around, and Baran knows you’re in good hands.
11:02 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you, Ellis, and Shen in a new, quieter looking bar. Shen is sipping something fruity looking, waving at the camera. You’re grinning, and Ellis is holding up two stiff-looking drinks. Baran knows without a doubt you’re going to be hungover tomorrow, all grumpy and far away and disheveled. Good thing Baran enjoys taking care of you.
You reacted with: ❤️
11:07 pm
Parker Ellis: [video attached]
Parker Ellis: down bad
It’s a short clip of you talking animatedly with Shen. Ellis zooms in on your face and then pans down to your hand, where your phone is open to a selfie of the two of you curled up on the couch last month.
Baran feels her heart swell and contract in her chest, and she pulls up the same photo on her camera roll. She’s molded into your side under a blanket, her head tucked under your chin, her hand around the back of your neck. And you’re smiling like you just won the lottery.
11:21 pm
Azizam: i need you so bad right now
Baran’s scrolling through instagram, missing you next to her, when the notification appears. She smirks, wondering when you’d finally start getting like this.
11:22 pm
You: Oh?
11:23 pm
Azizam: fuck
Azizam: what are u wearing?
Baran rolls onto her back, sighing, hair splayed out. She can picture you, breathing measured, maybe pressing your thighs together. Feeling hot and desperate thinking about her. And Baran loves making you ache.
But you’re also out with friends, and Ellis has already ragged on you for being clingy twice tonight. Do you really want to do this right now?
11:24 pm
You: Shorts and your t-shirt.
11:24 pm
Azizam: looking at a pic of ur neck rn
11:25 pm
Azizam: fuck you. sext me for real
Baran raises her brow and settles deeper into the bed, one hand skating over her belly absently. She knows what photo you’re probably looking at. It’s innocent enough. Baran wasn’t paying attention, smiling and craning her neck to look behind her at a dinner party. If she let you, she knows you’d leave dark marks up the length of her every chance you get. It does something maddening and insatiable to you. Baran, of course, uses this to her advantage.
11:27 pm
You: You want me to tell you my fingers are on my neck, wishing it was your mouth?
You: Running over my chest.
You: Up my inner thigh.
11:27 pm
Azizam: yes
Azizam: are they?
They are. Dancing and light but enough to start setting Baran’s nerves on fire. She spreads her thighs and slides her fingers down over her underwear.
11:27 pm
You: Maybe.
11:28 pm
Azizam: show me
Azizam: need your mouth on me
Baran hums. One hand slides under her shirt — your shirt — lazily, teasing a nipple that pebbles too easily. Her breath catches, and clarity descends on her. You’re out with friends. You deserve to enjoy it — while staying in the present moment.
11:31 pm
You: You should focus on Parker and John. You’ll have me all to yourself when you get home.
11:32 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you in a bathroom stall. Your hand is holding up your shirt and bra against your sternum, chest exposed to the air. Your nipples are hard, and Baran’s lips part, her previous text completely wiped from her memory. On instinct or some base need, her fingers slide under the elastic of her underwear. Of course she’s wet.
11:33 pm
You: Baby…
You: You are so fucking gorgeous.
She stares at the photo, jaw slack. What she wouldn’t give to have her hands on your breasts, your nipple in her mouth right now. Baran’s fingers circle her clit, gathering wetness, working herself up as easily and thoughtlessly as breathing.
11:35 pm
Azizam: thinking about u
Azizam: [image attached]
Baran moans. It’s a photo of your hand in the low bathroom lighting. A stringy slickness connects your middle two fingers. She can practically taste you on her tongue, feel how your hand would grip her hair, feel the way your hips would rock into her mouth. And she can feel that familiar tension coiling in her, her muscles tensing.
11:36 pm
You: Oh, sweetheart.
You: That wet and desperate just from thinking about me?
You: I’d get on my knees for you right there in the stall.
You don’t reply right away, and Baran has a sinking suspicion you got pulled away from your phone. She groans, closing her eyes and feeling unfairly frustrated and horny. She should stop, wait for you like you have to wait for her. But you’ll be too drunk for her to fuck you when you get home, and you’re going to throw yourself at her anyway. And she’ll feel less pent up and guilty about it if she’s not hot and bothered when you walk through the door. So, Baran stares at the photo of your fingers and slides two inside of herself.
Her phone pings again when she’s sweaty and twitching and catching her breath, fingers slick as they rest on her stomach, careful not to touch the sheets.
11:44 pm
Parker Ellis: stop engaging with her!!!! you’re intruding on girls night
Parker Ellis: whore
Baran groans and closes her eyes briefly, embarrassed and just about fed up with Ellis and Shen. She just wants her baby in bed with her.
11:49 pm
You: Inappropriate. I am an attending.
12:03 am
Parker Ellis: rolling my eyes rn
Parker Ellis: not My attending
Parker Ellis: don’t be bitter. bar bathrooms are gross. i’m saving her from a yeast infection
Baran decides to ignore that and pointedly not think about what Ellis interrupted you doing.
12:06 am
You: Isn’t John with you?
12:08 am
Parker Ellis: he’s one of the girls
Baran is drifting between waking and sleep when her phone pings and jolts her out of it, her face smashed into a pillow and her bedside lamp still on. She swallows and drags her phone to her face.
12:39 am
Azizam: Parker found me texting :(
Azizam: we’re at a new bar
Azizam: need you to fuck me slow to this song on repeat btw. it was on the radio
Azizam: [Spotify Link] Southland by Lindsay Lou
This wakes Baran up a little, and she’s selfishly happy to know you didn’t get too far in the bathroom. She opens the link and listens as she replies.
12:44 am
You: Noted, baby.
You: Are you drinking water?
12:45 am
Azizam: i’m not a pussy
12:45 am
You: If you want me to go down on you when you get home, you’d better be drinking water.
It’s a ruse, and Baran thinks you know it, but your response is cute.
12:45 am
Azizam: on it boss
Baran is woken up from a deeper sleep to another ping. The song you sent is still playing softly on repeat, and you stop it. Baran can see why it turns you on and already has plans on how she’s going to fuck you to it.
1:21 am
Azizam: r u sure ur ok that m on nights?
The spelling and insecurity in your text tells Baran you have not, in fact, been drinking water. She exhales slowly, an unfair sort of annoyance twinging in her sleepy mind. Not at you, with whom she’s never truly annoyed. It took a long time — some unlearning and careful assurances — for you to be so raw and honest with Baran about your more prickly anxieties. And she took that vulnerability very seriously. No, Baran’s just tired, impatient you’re not with her, and feeling a little needy herself.
1:24 am
You: Yes. But if you want to talk more about it in the morning we can.
1:25 am
Azizam: what if u stat reesnting me
1:25 am
You: Do you resent me for being on day shift?
1:25 am
Azizam: no
Baran rubs her eye and yawns. You’re drunk, and she’s half asleep, and she doesn’t see the point in either of you pursuing such a delicate subject any further.
1:26 am
You: I love you.
1:26 am
Azizam: I LOV Y
Baran smiles, her eyes dry. You’re easily distracted. Giving up on sleep until you’re home, she goes back to scrolling on social media, too tired to pick her book back up.
1:47 am
Incoming Facetime: Azizam
“Baran!” you smile.
“Hi, honey,” Baran coos, her voice raspy and low, her head resting on her bent arm over the pillow. If you were more clear-headed, you would have started fawning over it. Despite how tired she is, Baran loves that you want to talk to her so much while you’re drunk and away from her. It sparks something fond and possessive in her.
“Would you love me if I were a worm?” You’re definitely slurring now.
“What?” Baran is caught off guard.
“If I turned into a worm, would you still love me? Shen said I should ask you.”
She opens and closes her mouth, unsure what that even means, when a familiar voice drifts to her ears, the equally familiar face following quickly into view.
“Dude, you can’t just leave me at the bar. You’re supposed to be my wingman.”
“Dr. Santos?” Baran asks incredulously, shocked into formality. She’s wearing smoky makeup and a swooping top and talking to you with the ease of good friends — a connection Baran is sure just happened tonight.
“Oh, shit,” Trinity hisses, ducking out of view. You blink at Santos, confused, and she slowly, sheepishly returns to the camera. “Hi Dr. Al-Hashimi.”
More awake now, Baran raises an eyebrow.
“How’s your 102-degree fever?” she asks humorlessly, sitting halfway up to offer herself some semblance of authority as she reprimands her resident while laying in bed at two in the morning.
“Better, yeah,” she winces, and you laugh suddenly.
“You didn’t tell me you called out sick,” you blurt, and Trinity glares at you.
“I didn’t want you telling my boss I’m here,” she accuses, motioning to your phone.
“So, you thought I’d go home to my future wife and not tell Baran I saw you and Whittaker at the gay bar?”
Baran’s ears ring, something sharp and hot shooting through her. She remembers the first time she brought up marriage to you, you were watching Bridesmaids together. You’re a few years younger than Baran, and unlike her, you’d never been married before. You didn’t have a kid to think about. Though, you loved Baran’s son dearly, and she loved that you loved him — and that he loved you back.
Have you ever thought about it? Marriage? She asked carefully as your head lay in her lap, and she played absently with your hair. Your fingers stilled on Baran’s thigh, and in the few seconds of silence, Baran thought she might throw up.
Are you asking? You murmured, turning to look up at Baran with unreadable, sparkling eyes.
Yes, she said easily, and then blinked, understanding too late what you meant. I mean, yes, I’m asking if you’ve —
Yes, you cut her off. With the right person. Yes.
She can’t believe she ever for one second doubted you might say yes if she got down on one knee. Baran shouldn’t have then, and she certainly doesn’t now that you’d called her your future wife. The shock quickly melts to a steady warmth that seems to blossom throughout her entire body, an easy sureness she knows is there for good.
“You’re really fucking irritating,” Trinity says to you emphatically, working her jaw, but she knows this situation is her own fault, so there’s no real bite to it. It brings Baran back to the present.
“Whittaker’s there, too?” she drawls, knowing Dennis is definitely on the schedule tomorrow.
“Ooooo, Dr. Santos, you are in so much fucking trouble. I gotta go, babe,” you say, pressing your fingers to your lips and then the camera before the call ends. Truth be told, Baran isn’t really irritated, but she can’t let Trinity know that.
She looks back down at your contact card, a soft, sweet photo of you greeting her. A wave of affection sweeps over her so intensely it knocks the breath from her. Her future wife. Baran swallows down the lump of emotions building in her and focuses on texting you.
1:52 am
You: Be safe. Make good choices. Come home soon. I love you.
1:52 am
Azizam: 😍❤️👅🐱
Baran lays back down, setting her phone by her head and staring at your contact photo like a lovesick teenage girl. She doesn’t wake up this time when Shen’s text comes through.
2:09 am
John Shen: ETA 20 min
John Shen: BTW, I think she’s onto you
Baran is stirred awake by the bed dipping next to her and quiet curses. A groggy noise rumbles in her chest, her limbs too heavy to move, her eyelids like lead.
“Back to sleep, honey,” you whisper, your words coming out a little slurred still, unsteady as you crawl toward her on the soft mattress.
Baran forces herself to turn over, another incoherent, almost whiny noise rising in her. She licks her lips and swallows, her eyes blinking open to see you settle next to her in a t-shirt and underwear.
“Azizam,” Baran mumbles happily, and you grin, leaning over to kiss her.
Instinctually, Baran fists the front of your shirt and drags you closer, her other arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your lips slide against hers, both of you uncoordinated and sloppy from alcohol and sleep but content in it. The thick, sweet smell of the bar lingers on you, along with the faint familiar tang of your sweat, and your tongue dips between Baran’s lips. She moans faintly, and you scoot closer so you can intertwine your legs, your hips pressing into hers.
“I drank water,” you breathe against her mouth, sliding your kisses to her jaw and her neck, wet and open. Baran sighs, more awake now, her core muscles twitching. One thing that really gets Baran going is sleepy sex, and you are definitely using this to your advantage. She remembers her faux promise to you and smiles, tangling a hand in your hair.
“Sleep, eshgham. We have three days together. Just you and me,” she sighs, tilting her chin to limit your access to her neck. You hum softly, dipping your face to her shoulder.
“Dooset daram,” you mumble into Baran’s skin. You know a few phrases in Farsi now, but according to you, this is the most essential, the one you learned first. And every time you say it, it makes Baran weak in the knees.
Her hand tightens in your hair, and she kisses your head, holding you firmly against her. She can feel you drifting off to sleep already, muscles relaxing, breathing even. And Baran feels that stubborn tightness in her throat again now that she finally has you in her arms.
She hadn’t known exactly when she was going to do it, waiting for the perfect time to present itself. This weekend. She’s going to propose to you this weekend.
contains: youngerdom!reader, sub!dana, eye rolling, dana's nicknames for reader, kitchen counter sex, oral sex, fingers in mouth.
description: annoying Dana although out her 12 hour shift is the only way you get to taste her tonight.
a/n: sorry for the long wait. i was swamped
wc: 1.4k
“Hey, boss. can I go out for a smoke?” you slide across the counter of the nurses’ station, wriggling your eyebrows at Dana who’s eyeing you through her glasses.
She let out a breath, not finding your tactics amusing. “You were just out for one, weren’t ya?”
You gave her a shrug and looked down as you pick at your cuticles, as well as to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape your throat.
“What can I say? Being an R3 is tough.”
“You’ll fry off your lungs before you even finish your residency, kid.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname, a groan following soon after. “Quit calling me that. I’m not one of your nasty children.”
Dana’s lips quirked into a smirk at your reaction, her head shaking when your face scrunched into a scowl. “Yet you’re here acting like one.”
Your head snapped up at her comeback, mouth hung open as if you just heard the most painful insult.
“And that’s why i’m going out for a smoke.”
“You better watch it, doctor. Being stubborn won’t get ya anywhere.” Dana scolded, her voice now turning serious and has that cold edge that you love.
You didn’t turn around to respond, instead you waved a hand at her before sliding through the exit.
It wasn’t long before the both of you arrived at your shared house—Dana’s house, to be exact. Her kids moved out and you moved in, although they pay the two of you visits from time to time.
The car ride was silent, you were focused on the road while Dana was looking out the window—but you can tell that she wanted nothing to do with you.
You’ve been getting on her nerves all day. Running your mouth to the med students around her, going out for a smoke after every patient, and joining Santos on her bitchiness spree.
She wasn’t having any of it. It was on purpose though. You always knew how to get her worked up, and even though this “method” of yours is dangerous because you can’t really predict Dana’s reaction—it’s surprisingly effective.
When you stepped inside the house, Dana walked ahead and entered the kitchen to cook whatever she could find for the both of you.
You were left behind, dropping your keys to the bowl on top of the drawer at the entrance, hanging your jacket to the clothing rack, and taking off your shoes before following suite.
Dana was already frying eggs and bacon on the barely heated pan and you slowly creeped up behind her, hands snaking around her waist.
You could tell that she was taken aback by how quickly she got tensed, but she eventually relaxed into your touch—a relieved sigh escaping her mouth that she didn’t even hear.
“You mad at me?” you mumbled against her silver hair, your thumbs sliding up and down her sides.
Dana shook her head, hand resting on your wrist as she craned her head to face you. “You were getting on my nerves. But, that’s your purpose in my life huh?” she chuckled, head shaking.
“You know i’m only trying to make your life shine brighter.” you whispered and pressed a kiss behind her ear that sent a shiver down Dana’s spine.
“Because I love you..” you trailed off, the same way your lips trailed kisses from her jaw down to her neck—where you left tiny bruises on her pulse point that made her whimper.
“And I want you to feel good. So, so good.”
Dana’s back slightly arched when your hands went under her shirt, you pulled down her bra and fumbled with her now hardened nipples—her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as her wetness pooled between her legs.
“Fuck..” she whispered and leaned further into your touch.
Your right hand fumbled with the stove to turn it off and you swung Dana around, making her face you and her flushed face.
Her eyes looked up hungrily into yours, orbs travelling from your lips and back into your eyes.
Dana didn’t say anything, instead she pulled you into a kiss—her tongue immediately slipping inside your mouth that you eagerly took in. You sucked gently on the muscle, your hands coming down to squeeze her ass that made her tiptoe.
The kiss you shared became sloppy and it wasn’t long before Dana was sat on the counter with you standing between her legs—your hands squeezing her bare tits as you discarded her shirt and bra moments ago.
You pulled away from the kiss, your mouth moving to her collarbone then to her chest before you took one of her nipples in your mouth.
Dana’s eyes closed, her hands springing to clutch your hair as you sucked hungrily on her breast.
You alternated between her right and left tit, hand massaging one as you sucked the other.
“Wanna taste you.” you whispered and slowly got down on your knees as you looked up at Dana’s lazy eyes, your hands tugging at the waistband of her sweats that made her lift her hips.
You took them off, slowly sliding them down her legs that made Dana bite down on her lip as the soft material tickled her skin.
Once they were off, you spread her legs wider—mouth watering at the sight of her sopping wet cunt just waiting eagerly for your tongue.
Dana’s hand went behind your head, as if pushing you towards her heat.
You chuckled and pulled her hand down. “Eager, huh?” you teased, earning an eye roll from the woman.
“A picture’ll make it last longer.”
“I can’t taste a picture, sweetheart.” you grinned and leaned froward to lick a bold stripe up her slit, her back arching at the sudden sensation.
You sucked on her clit, your thumb teasing her entrance—finger going in and out just slightly to make her pussy twitch and clench hungrily around nothing.
She whined, a rare sound that you could ever hear from Dana, and that pushed you over to the edge.
You made out with her pussy, tongue licking her hole while your thumb pressed tightly on her swollen clit.
You eventually pulled your tongue out, and before Dana could even protest—you replaced it with your fingers, her walls so slick that you easily slid a third finger in.
Dana’s eyes rolled, her mouth hanging open as various curses escaped her throat. Her hips buckled forward, her hole swallowing the entirety of your fingers’ lengths that made a delirious sound echo in the kitchen.
“You feeling good, baby?” you smiled against her clit, eyes looking up to find Dana’s face scrunched up with her hands fumbling with her tits.
“F-fuck.. yes.” she slurred, making you grin and twist your fingers to rub her clit with your thumb.
Dana practically screamed at the added pleasure, her chest starting to heave when a familiar knot started forming in her stomach.
Her hands grasped at everything, your fingers sliding in and out of her at a deliberate pace that made sloppy sounds from how wet she is.
You took notice of the way Dana’s thighs flexed and how her moans started getting louder, your mouth replacing your thumb’s place on her clit—tongue flicking over the sensitive nub as you helped Dana cum.
“Fucking c-christ.. i’m cumming.” she trembled, eyes shutting tightly.
Dana’s hands flew up to your head as she pressed it forward, her breathing getting heavy as you ate her out and fucked her most sensitive spot with your fingers.
It didn’t take long before Dana’s cum started coating your fingers, her legs trembling harshly as she came hard on your fingers.
You grinned at the sight of your fingers drenched in her cum, and you slowed down your pace—only wanting to help her come down from her high.
Dana’s brows furrowed and she whined before pushing your hand away.
And you did, knowing that she was starting to get overstimulated.
You slowly pulled your fingers out, seeing moe of Dana’s cum gush out of her pussy.
“Came hard, didn’t you?” you teased, earning a flick to the forehead from Dana.
You got up from your knees and stared intensely into her eyes as you slipped your cum-coated fingers inside your mouth, tongue licking your digits clean before releasing them with a pop.
“You rascal.” Dana grinned and pulled you down for a kiss, her tongue entering your mouth once more as you shared her cum on your tongue.
Idk really know what this is. Just thoughts of big mamas hearing going as she gets older <3
˙⋆✮ Sevika who's hearing isn't what it used to be, especially now as shes constantly hearing the whirring of the mech arm which messes with how she hears out of both ears.
˙⋆✮ Sevika who grabs you face and keep your eyes on hers, only fucking you in missionary so she can see and focus on hearing every little sound that escapes you- because God forbid she misses a singular whine or moan she pulls from you.
˙⋆✮ Sevika who always picks the biggest strap she owns to ensure your moaning the prettiest you can for her. It needs to reach deep and hit that spongey spot with each pump of her hips to guarantee your sounds of pleasure.
˙⋆✮ Sevika who will pull you up by your throat so your nose to nose while she pounds you within an inch of your life, turning her head so your lips are pressed against her good ear. Your moans are her absolute favourite sounds and she'll always find a way to hear them. Always.
It would be funny that genius doctor javadi is dating normal student reader who ends up in the Pitt because of a stupid/funny reason end everyone is, this is the idiot you are saying?
victoria javadi who brags about you, her girlfriend, to her coworkers but never gives too many details. all they know is that she’s madly in love with you. and that you’re gorgeous of course.
she LOVES the fact that you’re different from her in the sense that you never followed an academic pathway. you weren’t dumb, you had a, b, and c’s throughout high school, but school was never for you. victoria is so appreciative that you actively relieve some of the pressure off of her, reassuring her that she doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone, telling her it’s okay to slow down and take a break, reminding her of the fact that she’s only 21, etc <3 and so victoria will talk highly of you to her coworkers when given the chance, but likes to keep you to herself. on tiktok she’s posted one video with you but as a million more drafts just for her eyes and yours. that video and a few pictures on victoria’s instagram are the only glimpses the ptmc ed has of you.
but one day you come into your girlfriend’s work. you injured your elbow by tripping over your own shoe laces. with one hand you drove to ptmc. you let victoria know you were coming and that you were hurt but it wasn’t that big of a deal. when you arrive victoria makes sure you get back right away. she along with trinity helps you.
“no,” you reply to victoria. she gives you a knowing side eye. “well, not a lot.” she then hands you her purple stanley you gifted her for her birthday and gives you an aleve.
“for the pain.”
“thanks, vic.”
“how did this happen anyways?” trinity asks you as you swallow the medication.
“i slipped on my shoe laces like a dumbass.”
trinity bursts out laughing and victoria shoots her a glare. “damn crash i didn’t realize you were dating such a clutz.”
“shut up santos,” victoria mutters as she puts a splint on you.
after you’re treated victoria hovers and bombards you with check ins. you’re not in pain anymore right? can you drive? remember to take ibuprofen in 8 hours. elevate it when you get home. before you leave she gives you a quick forehead kiss, wanting to show you some affection, but not wanting to draw the attention of her coworkers. then she goes to the nurses’ station to catch up on some charting.
“your girlfriend tripped on her shoelaces and broke her elbow?” joy asks, her tone flat and sarcastic.
“uh… yes,” victoria answers, looking up at joy from a desk, her eyes slightly wide with confusion as to why she is so interested.
trinity leans against a counter, one forearm resting on it, and an entertained smile on her face. “i’m still fucking dying at this. how old is she anyways and how did you meet?”
“she’ll be 22 next month. and we met at my college graduation. her older brother was graduating too and she saw me and asked me about the hairstyle i had and how i did it.”
“did she go to college?” joy inquires.
“um one year at a community college and then she dropped out to work as an esthetician.”
“didn’t you tell me that your girlfriend broke her finger by getting a ring stuck on a drawer?” victoria nods in response to trinity’s question and winces, recalling the memory. “i always thought you would end up dating a super genius like you,” trinity half jokes. “but she’s fucking gorgeous so i get it.”
dana rounds the nurses’ station and joins in on the conversation. “same here, kid. i’m surprised you’re not with another child prodigy. i would’ve never guessed you’re with an idiot — a pretty idiot — who broke their elbow slipping on their own shoelaces.”
victoria shrugs and turns her attention back to the computer in front of her. “she’s my idiot. and she’s super sweet and caring and respectful and cool and—”
“kid.” dana puts up a hand, cutting victoria off. “you don’t need to explain, she’s a good person. we’re happy for you.”
“oh,” victoria says, her defensiveness fizzling away. “thanks… i’m really happy.” a warm smile grows across her face as she pictures you, her imperfect perfect girlfriend.
I’m the one that send the ask about Vic dating a stupid (affectionate) reader, and can’t help but think about how defensive she got with Dana is because her parents don’t approve because she isn’t as smart as Victoria so they see her as unworthy
oh for sureeeee!!
victoria javadi, your beautiful & smart girlfriend, was so nervous for you to first meet her parents. she didn’t even tell them that she was dating someone until your two month anniversary was creeping up. you knew it stressed her tf out to just think about it. victoria’s parents have always envisioned their daughter following a certain path — one that does not involve getting distracted by a relationship and certainly not a partner that didn’t even finish college. in their mind you hinder victoria’s growth and success and she’s aware they think that way. since the moment she met you she knew you wouldn’t meet her parents’ high expectations. but you met all of hers.
when you finally did meet her parents, victoria gave you all the lore and prepared you THROUGHLY. frankly you wouldn’t have been surprised if she whipped out a powerpoint. you had a dinner with vic and her parents and were your charming sweet self, ever so polite, and even tried using proper manners as if that would make you appear smarter. victoria was nervous that whole night. you would shoot her a reassuring smile or give her thigh a comforting squeeze every once in a while to say it’s okay, i’m okay, we’ll get through this. her parents, specifically her mom, were somewhat passive aggressive and very cold to you. her dad at least attempted to get to know you. it seemed like he was trying to have an open mind but it was hard for him. like victoria mentioned it in her prep with you, her parents bombarded you with questions. it very much felt like in gilmore girls when emily and richard grilled rory’s boyfriend dean about his past and future, almost testing if he was good enough for her, but having already decided the answer was no.
after you left that evening, victoria anxiously awaited for her parents to share their opinions about you. they were oddly quiet while she helped them clean up, so she had to directly ask them to share their thoughts. her mom just looked at her with a blank stare while her dad nervously glanced at his wife for an answer.
“your mom and i think she’s sweet,” vic’s dad said after a few moments of tense silence.
“and?” victoria inquired, hesitant but needing to know.
“and she’s—”
“she’s not good enough for you”, victoria’s mom said, cutting her husband off. “you don’t need to be distracted by some girl who cuts hair and does facials for a living. you’re a javadi. you went to college at 13. you became a doctor before you could even drink. she’s just average but you’re not. she’s going to hold you back.”
victoria felt tears burning in her eyes. she looked to her dad for help, but he just sighed and gave her a sympathetic look. she slammed the plate she was carrying into the sink, almost breaking it. her eyes moved back in forth between both of her parents in disbelief. “you’re horrible,” she told them, her voice cracking slightly and barely above a whisper. victoria then stomped off like a mad teenager, put her shoes on, grabbed a jacket, her purse, and her mom’s cars keys, and left.
she drove to your place that night. when you opened your apartment door you saw victoria, her eyes red and a solemn look on her face. immediately, you pulled her into a hug. you rubbed her back soothingly with one hand and stroked her hair with the other. “baby, what is it? are you okay? is it your parents?”
“i’m sorry,” she told you, gripping the back of your sweatshirt tightly as you hugged her.
“don’t be sorry, it’s okay. if they don’t like me that’s fine. i’ll keep trying and it doesn’t change how i feel for you.”
victoria pulled back and looked deeply into your eyes. “i think… i think i love you.”
you gave her a warm smile and cupped her face in your hands. “i love you too.” then, without wasting any time, victoria pulled you into a kiss, her hands caressing your sides.
from that point on victoria knew that you weren’t going to get scared off. while you can be ditzy at times and may not have a great academic education or a noble career, you’re very emotionally intelligent and love victoria more than she ever thought possible. vic NEVER would’ve thought the first time you guys said i love you to each other was after a disastrous dinner with her parents. one of the many reasons why she loves you is because you help her learn to not seek out her parents’ approval.
when victoria discovered the field of medicine she wanted to pursue, you supported her and even baked her a cake… you may have burned the cake and had to end up purchasing one but still, you gave her a thoughtful gesture to celebrate her accomplishment. while victoria’s parents were apprehensive about the path she chose (at least her dad was warming up to the idea and encouraged his daughter), you never were and continue to show her unconditional love and support and that’s all victoria needs <33 she’s more confident and strong now because of how you consistently cheer her on. she was very self- conscious and embarrassed by her tiktok page but you made sure to reassure her that you think her content is amazing and cute. you take pride in the fact that your girlfriend is THE dr. j and victoria is super proud to call you her girlfriend. ♡
sub lady d?? alcina looks like she could be desperate for readers blood if denied
submissive alcina 😵💫 strapping that 9 foot tall woman into the bed, making her whine and hiss, making her beg to be allowed to cum. thinking about her grunting and being a bit of a brat about it because i mean, look at her! she towers over you. she's so powerful, and you want her to beg and kiss at your feet? it should be you kissing her feet. but all you gotta do is sweet-talk her or get her dumb enough, and she's begging on her knees, still towering over you, with tears in her eyes.
her eyes are so glazed over as she desperately begs for a taste of your blood. she's mumbling a bit, having a hard time thinking properly because she's just so damn needy. she lets out the most beautiful whine slash growl ever when you pull her hair and yank her away from your neck after she grazes her teeth against it. bad girl, you scold, and she mumbles out an apology.
being on your period and teasing her by spreading yourself out on the bed, giving her a nice show. she drools at the sight of blood on your thighs. her head starts to get all fuzzy at the stench of your human blood filling her nostrils. i think when her head gets all fuzzy like that, you don't even have to make her beg. she does it on her own.
alcina rubbing her cheek on your thigh, squirming so much at the wonderful scent of your blood, tongue constantly darting out to wet her lips. alcina calling you darling or dragă as she babbles about needing to take care of you.
walking that woman like a dog :p denying her a taste before bed, doing your best to hide your grin as she pouts in bed, loving how affectionate she is the next morning, just so needy.
alcina slipping into subspace when she smells your blood 😵💫 her whole body relaxes, and her brain melts. just a pathetic thing that will follow your every command.
alcina suckling your blood into her mouth, whining and moaning into your skin, thanking you over and over for allowing her to taste you @__@
bloody kiss marks on your blood as she worships you, droplets of blood dripping from a bite mark after she got too rough...
Ava x Deborah x reader… having a sex weekend and they go all out; mirror sex, anal, squirting, scissor, oral, etc. I believe in your magic 🪄
NEED to be sandwiched between them for a whole weekend, holy shit...til deborah's entire house reeks of sex, til the entire plot of land smells of cum!
going to a vegas bar and fucking in dirty bathrooms, deborah making you and ava eat her out on the floor. ava fucking deborah against a sink while you kiss and bite ava's neck from behind. ava taking you and deborah up to her room and scissoring you while deborah rides your face. holding her hips firm against your face when she tries to lift 'em up because she's overwhelmed @__@ waking up between ava and deborah with cum leaking out of all you, having lazy morning sex before getting in the shower and slapping ava's ass with a foot scubber :p
mirror sex that ends with deborah licking ava's squirt off the mirror.
mirror sex with ava making deborah look at herself getting fucked by you, mocking her for those pathetic moans.
deborah ordering anal plugs for you and ava 😇 mmmmfff sitting on deborah's lap while she teases a finger into your asshole, telling you that they'll be here tomorrow and you'll be stretched out enough to take her strap.
deborah plugging you and ava up and spanking you both with a paddle until you're leaking cum. deborah making you and ava fight for her strap, loving the little show you two put on for her.
deborah tying you and ava together and placing a vibrator deep inside of your holes while she's out doing a show :p leaving you there for hoursss, coming home and pouring herself a drink, a smug ass grin on her face when she opens the door and sees both of you crying. her sheets are ruined with your guys' cum, and she scolds you two for making a mess.
a trip to the hospital because you got lockjaw after eating ava and deborah out for hours.....
blindfolding ava and making her guess who's touching her :3 a wrong guess gets a paddle straight to her thigh. overstimulating her with deborah, stuffing her with sex toys and your fingers until she squirts all over.
driving somewhere and taking turns getting bent over deborah's rolls royce.
public sex where you finger deborah and ava in the car while someone drives.
deborah's lipstick marks on ava's strap, which then ruins your insides <3
ava kissing over one of the marks deborah left on your body.
deborah humping a bruise ava left on your body.
pool sex, with you eating ava out while she's on the ledge. strapping deborah down while she's sunbathing and eating ava out.
I loved the closed off reader you did, and had an idea. Maybe dana finds out she self harms or finds her after/during, maybe patches her up? Would just love to see Dana comforting reader.
Sorry, could be too full on, and definitely ignore if thats the case, love your writing sm :]]
[While self-harm is under the "dark" part of my no-no square (lol) under my rules, I'll change it a bit to toxic habits that can lead to self-harm if not stopped. This will be kind/really short, since it's kinda outside of the rules? Technically?]
Imagine if... closed-off!reader has some nasty habits that Dana plans to stop.
Closed-off!reader who forgets to put lotion on her hands, leaving her cuticles cracked and having new hangnails every day despite her clipping them off.
Closed-off!reader who is bad at eating. She will go hours without eating. When closed-off!reader does eat, it's either too much, too little, or she eats sleep (lol).
Dana who notices all of it, starting to track her habits at work.
When she doesn't eat, she'll find snacks in her pockets, "her" desk, the breakroom.
When she forgets to lotion her hands, her finds some in random places. Weird, but efficient. Too efficient.
Closed-off!reader who gets better. Not overnight, or immediately, but better. Slowly.
Closed-off!reader who realizes what was happening and what Dana was doing, reacting very badly.
"Hey," She hums shortly, eyes never leaving her screen as she tried to get her last chart done before something else happened. "When'd you eat last?" Dana asks, eyeing her from over her glasses.
She huffs out of her nose again, not hiding her irritation. "I don't know. I'm busy." Dana pauses, raising a brow. "Yeah? Welcome to the club. That doesn't excuse you for not takin' care of yourself."
"Do as I say. Not as I do." Her shoulder tense at the familiar saying, stomach churning. "Here. Use this and eat. I left some-" "I don't need you to fret over me of all you're gonna do in the end is leave."
She scoffs, a sarcastic smile on her face. "Dana. You realize that that statement is hypocritical, right?" "Well," Dana shrugs in agreement, setting down a tiny personal size of handsanitizer.
This catches Dana off guard, the woman slowly taking off her glasses with a tilt of her head. Before she could say anything, she continues.
Damaging them once more, for nothing. "I know how to do my job, I know how to take care of myself. But if you hadn't noticed? I'm swamped- I literally had 7 patients at once-"
"You critiquing me? In the middle of my shifts? I don't need it," She hisses quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear. She crosses her arms and starts fiddling and picking at her healing cuticles and hangnails.
"I know." This makes her falter, her avoidant gaze snapping towards the older woman. She stares a bit, Dana letting her get her thoughts together.
"... o- okay? Then you know that I don't have the time to do any of this." "I do know." Dana nods, stretching out a hand. Patient, but stern. Slowly, she rested her wrist into her hand.
That was barely an apology worth saying. But, Dana gives her a sympathetic smile. "I know... eat." She does, watching her walk away casually and go back to work.
Dana squirts a bit of the handsanitizer onto her palm. "That's why I'm here." Instinctively, she rubs it in, eyes back on the monitor. "... sorry." She rasps weakly, internally beating herself up over it.
Seriously, she had to stop her from wiping her face like a toddler one time-
As if she didn't snap at her over something so simple. Needed. She looks down at the snack, chewing sluggishly. Sighing deeply, she finished it quickly (she was more hungry than she realized) before finishing her chart.
When she was done, she stared at the screen. At her reflection. She had to remind herself that she wasn't home anymore. She hadn't been in years. Her and dad left before she started highschool. So why was it...?
She didn't know, really.
Closed-off!reader who slowly lets Dana fret over her... even if it could be a bit too much.
Dana who worries about closed-off!reader when it comes to her life outside of the hospital... which is a whole other can of worms.
How would Dana react if guard dog reader got badly hurt.
Missing Protection || Dana Evans x gn! reader
Summary: Dana tries to keep herself together when she gets the news that you've been shot
Warnings/contains: guard dog! reader, doctor! reader (who's referred to as "guard dog"), gun mentions (plus reader/guard dog gets shot with said gun), Dana nearly has a mental breakdown when she hears what's happened, a healthy amount of angst, mentions of surgery and such, mild swearing, mentions of food in reference to PTMC's cafeteria food (and how awful it is), hurt/comfort, they/them pronouns are used here to refer to the reader/guard dog in a gender neutral manner, this is pre-Pittlings/Baran/Emma so they don't make an appearance but once again Heather does so everybody say yay for that \^.^/
Dana Evans x guard dog! reader masterlist | companion moodboard to this fic
Beginning notes: I was initially going to do headcanons but thought up a fic idea that'd be way angstier instead lol. enjoy!
That day for you in The Pitt should've been like any other. Unfortunately, a woman with a firearm and a grudge sought out to change that, and in doing so set into effect a chain of events that would end up sealing your fate.
Your senior attending wasn't completely pissing you off for once, so you were helping Robby search for a patient's records based on the name that'd been in their bag when they were brought in. They appeared to live locally, and had a patch on said bag that read "I've been vaccinated", so you'd hoped they'd gotten it done at PTMC, where it'd be recorded and placed into said patient's personal file.
The two of you were interrupted when someone whom you didn't recognize decided to approach. "Dr. Robby?" A woman said, her voice soft, almost meek as she addressed the man standing before her.
Both you and him looked up from where patient charts were pulled up on the computer in front of you. "Yes?"
What happened next terrified everyone in the ER. Making direct eye contact, the woman calmly pulled a handgun from out of her purse and pointed it at him.
Everything erupted into chaos. People panicked at the sight of the weapon, some dropping down to the floor while others hid in rooms. The woman stood still the entire time, keeping her focus on the two doctors in front of her as nearly everyone else fled.
"My husband came in. He had a head injury. You said that he'd be alright." The woman's voice shook, as did the hand that was holding the gun, tears welled up in her eyes. "You said that you'd save him. He died, because of you."
"Sometimes patients die, regardless of being cared for by the best doctors and nurses available," Robby spoke in a low and steady voice while holding his hands up defensively, never taking his eyes off the woman in front of him as he attempted to talk her down.
"Yeah, some injuries are just too severe for a patient to bounce back from," you chimed in, one of the only other people so far to speak. The woman's eyes darted over to you, frantic in appearance. "I'm sure that we did everything we could. Just because he died doesn't mean it was Dr. Robby's fault."
"Oh, yes, it does. Yes, it does," she insisted forcefully, pointing the gun at him with obvious intent. "He promised- you promised that you'd save him." Her voice was getting choked up now, tears escaping from her eyes and down her cheeks as she became increasingly more desperate for answers, for a reason as to why this might've happened to her. "And- and you didn't. You didn't. So- so now-" she sniffled, steadying her breathing as she got her wavering voice back under control "-now, you need to pay. You need to pay for what you did, or rather, for what you didn't do." She cocked the barrel of the gun, clearly determined to fire it. "I'd tell you to say hi to him once you get there, but my husband's in heaven, and I'm fairly certain that you'll be going to hell."
With that final thought, she fired the gun directly at him. You moved fast, tackling the older doctor down to the floor so he wouldn't get hit. There were noises going on in the background all around you: gasps of shock from your coworkers at what they'd just witnessed, pleas from the woman as security was finally able to restrain her, but it was difficult for you to distinguish one thing from another. In fact, you couldn't focus on anything at all, except for the sharp pain that you suddenly felt in your side.
You did your best to look down with your quickly blurring eyesight, noticing a dark and wet spot on the front of your scrubs. Tentatively reaching a hand down, you gingerly placed a few fingers near the spot, wincing immediately in pain. Just before passing out, you saw a red coloring on your fingers, the wetness there glistening in the light.
It was blood. You'd been shot.
Dana was on the complete opposite side of the ER, hearing about the woman who'd entered with a gun and pointed it at Robby from the nurses who'd seen it firsthand. She was trying to get at least one person calm enough to explain everything to her before someone else's voice rang out above the others.
"Guard dog was shot!"
At that, her heart sank, eyes widening with fear when she heard the news. "What?" Without waiting another moment, she took off, racing through the hospital and past anyone who might be in her way to where you were. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the other doctors lifting you up onto the gurney before wheeling you off to a private room.
"No- No-" she cried out, moving to jolt forward once more when she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her, holding her back.
It was Robby, and he looked incredibly guilty. "Hey, hey-" he did his best to keep her restrained, even with how hard she was fighting against him. "They're gonna need surgery. There's nothing else you can do right now other than wait."
"I need- I need to be in there with them, I-" her hazel eyes glistened with tears as she continued to reach out for you, even though you were no longer there. The bloody spot on the floor still was, though, and it seemed to taunt her as she glared down at it. "I need to be with them," she repeated in a hushed whisper, finally going limp in his arms.
"Don't worry, they're gonna be taken good care of," he murmured to her gently while loosening his grip, large hands giving soothing rubs to her arms in hopes of keeping her calm. Meanwhile, the people who hadn't been nearby when the carnage took place had began to collect on the scene, including Perlah, who reached out for Dana so she wouldn't collapse onto the floor the moment Robby released her completely.
It was like her heart had been shattered in her chest. For so long, she always saw you as strong, as impenetrable with the way you so furiously defended and protected others. But now, you were badly hurt, and it caused her to raise the question: who was defending and protecting you?
Nothing seemed real. She could barely process any of what was going on around her, let alone what was happening directly before her. She heard a fuzzy muttering of "c'mon, let's get you somewhere quiet" that seemed to come from her fellow nurse, her body moving on autopilot as she was guided out of the main part of the ER to an empty stairwell nearby.
She wasn't the only person that was shook by what'd happened. No one in the Emergency Department was quite sure how to process the information that their guard dog, the one that could always be relied on the keep others safe, was injured so badly as to need surgery. There was a kind of hushed sorrow that filled the air, the usual hustle and bustle seeming to quiet down to a solemn hum while everyone waited with bated breath for the news that you were alright.
Doctors Robby, Collins, McKay, Mohan, and even Langdon were all crowded around the nurse's station, none of them seeming to be able to focus on what was going on. And for once, the senior attending didn't get on their case about it.
Their quiet conversation stopped once Dr. Garcia arrived with what they could only hope was a miracle. "They're out of surgery. We'll have them brought down to a room here once they're able to be transported. The bullet managed to avoid any and all major organs. There was quite a bit of blood loss, but that's been handled and taken care of."
A collective sigh of relief was uttered from everyone there. "Okay, good. That's good," Robby said what everyone was thinking before responding directly to Yolanda. "Thanks for letting us know."
She gave a professional nod at his words before leaving again while he turned to address the small group. "Alright, everybody, listen up. I know that it's been a tough and trying day, and we're all still a little shaken by everything that's happened so far. But we have a waiting room full of patients to get to that can't be ignored because of a personal tragedy, so let's all just try to keep our heads in the game."
The doctors each began to slowly disperse once he was finished speaking, Perlah having returned to the nurse's station to help Princess take over while the charge nurse was on a much needed break. Heather stood there for a moment, debating on her next course of action before deciding to give in to that little voice in her head that urged her to find Dana and ensure she was given the good news.
The stairwell was the same as usual: dimly lit and quiet, the perfect place to hide away when a person's shift became too much for them to handle. Dana was sitting near the bottom of the steps, staring blankly down at her shoes, as though she was trying to forget everything that'd happened so far.
Heather approached carefully, not wanting to startle her. She moved tentatively towards the stairs before stopping nearby, sinking down on the same steps her friend sat but a few feet away to give her some space.
"Garcia came down to let everybody know that they were doing alright," she began, her voice low and measured when she spoke. "They're getting moved to a room in the ED once they're stable."
"Thank God," the nurse spoke between what Heather noticed was a piece of gum. Clearly she'd wanted the nicotine but knew better than to light up inside the hospital.
"It's gonna be alright," Heather continued reassuringly while reaching a hand over, fingers lacing together as her hand gave Dana's a gentle squeeze. "I know this has been scary as hell, but they're okay now, and you will be, too."
"God, I hope you're right." The older woman finally looked up, a wry smile on her face yet her eyes glistening with unshed tears, as though she might cry. "After all, what in the hell are we gonna do without our resident guard dog here to protect us?"
The two both shared a chuckle at that, Heather scooting closer so she could wrap an arm around Dana in a comforting hug. They stayed there like that for a while, just sitting together in comfortable silence, until the sound of footsteps was heard once more.
"They're awake now," Cassie's voice filled the area, just as low as Heather's had been, so as not to completely ruin the moment. "Dana, they're asking for you."
The charge nurse nodded her head in understanding and got up, the doctor who she'd sat with joining her. All three women left the stairwell at a slow and steady pace, Cassie and Heather watching Dana closely the entire time until she broke the silence with a "Jesus, I know how to walk to a room by myself."
That just caused them to smile, both glad that she hadn't lost that signature sternness she was known for. Heather grabbed her hand again with both of hers and gave the back of it a tender pat while Cassie reached out and squeeze her gently on the shoulder, muttering a reassurance to Dana before letting go.
Her heart was pounding in her chest as she cautiously made her way towards the room you were set up in, taking a deep breath before heading inside. You were propped up against a pillow, making a face of mild disgust as you poked around at a tray of food with your fork. "Jesus. And I thought school lunches were inedible," you grumbled in displeasure, turning up your nose at the poor excuse for food in front of you.
"What's the matter, unhappy with your meal?" The voice of your reason for living spoke up after a moment or so. She was trying to keep her tone light and playful, but you knew her well enough to be able to sense the weariness and concern underlying it.
It was a bit difficult to focus on that, though, when your mind was overtaken by the far more pressing motion of her presence in general. If you had a tail, it'd certainly be wagging right about now.
She just chuckled at your speechless excitement, knowing that sometimes your brain was unable to properly form words when you got like this. "Hey, you," she greeted in a low hum, moving to stand next to your bed as she reached out to touch your face. "How do you feel?"
Her question was met with a low grumble of discontent in response. "Better now that you're here," you muttered while nuzzling affectionately into her hand, placing light kisses to her palm. "Sorry if I scared you. When I realized the woman was actually going to shoot, I just- I don't know. My body took over, and I reacted before I could think."
"You tend to do that a lot," she scoffed, fondly rolling her eyes as she attempted to fight back the mist threatening to cloud her vision. "Scared me half to death, y'know. And all the nurses, too--after all, what would they do without their protector? Half of 'em would be gone by the end of the week."
A weak smile tugged at your lips at her words, peering up at her with an apologetic gaze. "I know. I'm sorry," you repeated softly, reaching up to gently grasp onto her wrist before moving to place a kiss to each one of the fingertips on her hand. "But I'll be okay. I'm not dead yet. You can't get rid of me that easily."
Your light teasing had her shaking her head in mild disbelief. "God, what ever am I going to do with you?" She sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes instinctively flitting over to the screen that showed your vitals every now and then just to be sure you were doing okay.
"Love me," you replied with a dopey grin that was a result of both the pain meds you were on and the love you had for her. Dana sighed and smiled before leaning over to place a tender kiss to your forehead.
It was always scary for something like this to happen, especially to someone who was supposed to be bulletproof, pun intended. No one was quite sure how to respond when it came to their main source of protection being MIA due to a serious injury. But when Dana felt your fingers lace through hers and give her hand a reassuring squeeze, she knew that you'd somehow find a way to get through this together, just like with everything else.
End notes: pain and agony be upon ye mwahaha
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keep your brittle heart warm
emily prentiss x f!reader
tags: fluff, established relationship, wives, pregnant!reader, use of pet names, no use of y/n, momily
warnings: none
summary: you and emily get a little help deciding on a name for your daughter.
word count: 1.2k
request: emily x pregnant reader discuss baby names
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a/n: this one is short but sweet and i hope you like it!! thank you sm for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope you dont mind the little twist<3
“What about Lily?” You ask, sighing once again at your wife's stubbornness.
Emily shakes her head.
“What's wrong with Lily?”
She shrugs, “nothing, but my daughter doesn't feel like a Lily.”
You roll your eyes. Ever since finding out you were having a girl, picking a name has been a nightmare. It seems like there's no name that you and Emily both like an equal amount. It's why she picked up a book, and you're reading through some names and meanings for her.
It's almost like a routine now, sitting in bed together and discussing names. If it were only up to you, your daughter would've had a name ages ago, but Emily can't seem to like any of them.
Before finding out the sex, you had agreed that if it was a boy, she would pick the name, and if it was a girl, you'd pick it. Yet, after finding it out, Emily gave you those begging eyes and you couldn't deny her input, after all, this was her daughter too. So, it's been harder than you imagined it would be. Emily doesn't like any names, and before you met her, you had your heart set on naming your future child Elizabeth, which is completely out the window now.
Defeated, you turn a page. “Lola?”
“Absolutely not.” She shakes her head again, “just move on from the L names.”
“Maeve, Maisie… Matilda.” You raise an eyebrow, “I used to love that movie.”
Emily gives you one of those trademark looks she has when she's not impressed.
“You suggest something, then, God,” you groan in annoyance.
“I feel like I can't name her without seeing her face,” she says, but you don't really believe her.
“We're not letting her be born nameless.” Crossing your arms, you lower your head onto her shoulder, getting more comfortable.
“Okay,” Emily sighs. “I don't know… What about Amelia?”
“I have an ex named Amelia.” You smile, “if you don't mind”, shrugging.
Emily looks down at you, an incredulous look on her face. “Of course I mind.”
You laugh at her dramatics, “I'm kidding, it's just a cousin. I don't want it.”
She shoves your arm ever so slightly. Still laughing, you nip on her shoulder, the skin bare where her tank top doesn't cover.
“Don't push me, I'm carrying your baby.”
“You're ridiculous,” she argues fondly.
Emily moves her hand down your belly, feeling the swell of it and smiling at the thought. She still hasn't felt the baby move, and she couldn't be more anxious about it — the doctor said it was too early to feel it from the outside, but assured you that everything was fine. You often feel your daughter moving slightly, like a small flutter, and Emily gets excited every single time.
“I hope she gets your nose,” you say, hugging one of her arms between both of yours.
Emily chuckles, “you know I didn’t actually get you pregnant, right? That’s just something we joke about…” She explains as if it’s a big secret.
“I don't know, anything could happen. Maybe if I put it out there enough.”
She places a kiss on your forehead. Taking the book from your hands, she opens it on a random page. “What if we let someone else do it?”
You frown, lifting your head to look at her, “You can't be serious.”
Emily only shrugs.
“Like who?”
“I don't know… I'd ask Sergio if he could talk.”
Hearing his name, and proving everyone who says he's going deaf wrong, Sergio lifts his head, looking at the both of you from his spot at the foot of the bed. He's been sleeping with you since the beginning of the pregnancy, somehow feeling the need to protect you now that you're carrying precious cargo.
You look at him, considering, “I have an idea.”
It takes a long time, but you eventually decide on four names you could see your daughter having. You write on each piece of paper, folding carefully, leaving them still big enough for Sergio not to eat them — which would, admittedly, be a very displeasing ending to your night.
Emily holds the cat in her arms like a baby, scratching the back of his head and delighting in his purrs. You arrange the four pieces of paper on the bed, as equidistant from each other as you can get them. Standing back, you look at Emily, an excited smile on your face. Placing a hand on your belly, you feel the baby shift, small bubbles that still feel a little odd, but delightful.
She lowers Sergio onto the mattress, anticipation clear on her face, yet for a moment, he just stands there. He's an old guy after all, you gotta give him some grace, so you just wait. Emily starts laughing, and you can't help but join in, the both of you staring at your lazy cat as he clearly doesn't feel like moving any time soon.
“Go get some treats,” you say, catching your breath. Emily practically runs out of the room, making you chuckle all over again.
She comes back with a bag of small kibble treats, letting Sergio sniff them as you hold him in place, then she leaves a treat on each piece of paper.
“Come on, baby,” you tell him, kissing his head between his ears, giving him a scratch for good measure.
After you let him go, he slowly makes his way forward, sniffing the bed all the way. Stopping in a dramatic pause, it seems like Sergio is completely aware of what he's doing, pondering deeply on which treat to pick. Emily places a hand on your hip, her thumb rubbing back and forth where your shirt has ridden up.
“Why is he edging us?” She asks, impatient now.
You let out a loud laugh at her words, “he's an old man, give him time.”
In what seems like ages, but is only a few seconds, he jumps onto the third treat as if he's catching a prey, quickly munching on the kibble. Emily swiftly picks up the paper, letting Sergio roam the bed to grab the other treats, and stands up straight, a tension in her shoulders you can't help but find amusing.
“Relax,” you squeeze her shoulders.
“It's our baby's name written here. She's gonna have this name for the rest of her life!” She argues. “Or at least until she's eighteen and hates it and tries to change it legally.”
You roll your eyes, “just read it, honey.”
Emily opens the folded paper, her eyes going wide in excitement. She turns it so you can read it, and you smile. Iris is there in your handwriting, the ink pink from the random pen you grabbed at Emily's desk.
She pulls you by the waist, wrapping her arms around you, and her daughter, as you chuckle excitedly. She doesn't tell you, but you know that was her favorite one, you noticed when you first found it in the book, her eyes lit up and her lips pursed in a smile. As you look over, Sergio is munching on a piece of paper, all done with his treats, so you move to pull it away from him. After picking up all the pieces, you crumble them up and walk towards the trash can in the en-suite.
“You should give him some churu, he deserves it.”
Emily agrees, petting Sergio between his ears and leaving kisses all over his head. You don't tell her, but Iris was written in every piece you left for him to pick.
contains - postpartum after giving birth though it isn't exactly explained besides a few parts, slightly failed breast feeding, non-sexual nudity and intimacy (yummy), hurt/comfort, reader having a slight breakdown, baby daddy cassie, cassie helps reader with feeding (ig?)
a/n - reference off of the post from @byeilish , trust I asked for permission before using as a reference.
Cassie knew there was something wrong when she brought you and the baby home a few weeks prior, but as she stepped through the door to your shared apartment after coming back from the store and setting the bags down by the door, the silence that bounced off the walls only confirmed more of her assumptions.
"Baby?" She called out whilst making her way up the stairs, ears catching the wails of a newborn who is clearly hungry along with your slightly panicked, watery yet unclear words. Though as she reached the top of the stairs, what you were saying became much more clearer.
"Come on, honey— latch please.. I know y-you're— you're hungry.. please just latch.." The words were basically repeated over and over again along with the exception of the quick breaths you were taking in whilst Cassie opened the door, revealing the sight of you who's pacing, on the verse of crying, attempting to feed the baby while also trying to soothe her. The sight made her heart ache within her chest, but despite that, she was quick to rush over to try and snap you out of spiraling.
"Hey, hey, what's happening?" She murmured, lightly touching your lower back to attempt to help you soothe, but it didn't help much, especially when you glanced with her. If Cassie thought that would help, she was horribly wrong because as soon as caught sight of her, the dam completely broke.
Your face crumbling faster than she can process, tears running down your already slightly red face as you started rambling out things whilst holding the baby against your chest.
"I'm sorry.. she- she's just been crying nonstop and I've tried everything; I've tried cha-changing her diaper, putting her down to nap, and- and—" Pausing momentarily, you tried catching your breath to speak, which Cassie took as the opportunity to pull you into her arms, being careful of the baby as she basically tucked your head into the crook of her neck, hands going to lightly nudge up your shirt to softly caress the skin on your waist and lower back.
"Shh, shh, I know, I know.." She murmured, voice gentle as she kissed the crown of your head, nails still lightly scratching and caressing along your skin. The comforting tone of her voice and touch made you completely melt into her touch as you quietly began sobbing into her shoulder. The baby was now quiet, only letting out soft coos and slight whines. It seems Cassie taking control of the overstimulating situation helped calm her despite still being hungry.
She watched your shoulders shake as you continued to bawl into her shirt, her heart aching more and more with each watery breath you took or broken sound that escaped you. Though it seemed after a few moments, your cries seemed to grow quieter, but still clearly there. She stood there in silence for another minute or two before speaking again, so she lightly pulled you out of her shoulder, glancing down at your puffy, red face, watching another tear slide down your cheek, before cupping your face to wipe under your eyes.
"How about you go take a bath, yeah? Have some you time and I'll take care of her?" She suggested, giving a light nod of her head as she kept an eye on your expression. "But, I still have to feed-" "We got pre-pumped bottles for this, honey.." She pointed out, which made a question rise in her head, but she didn't want to see it just incase you started crying again.
"So let's get you into the bath.." She murmured, lightly taking her hands from underneath your shirt to reach for the baby, which you nodded quietly, gently handing over the newborn to her, hiccuping breaths leaving you as you begin to make your way down the hall towards the bathroom.
"I love you.." She softly called out, "Love you too.." You chirped very quietly from halfway down the hall, before closing the door and running the water, which was Cassie's cue to go downstairs to get one of the bottles for the baby, but not before grabbing a towel to place over her shoulder from the pantry.
—🍼—
It wasn't much longer, only around twenty to thirty minutes before the bathroom door opened, though you didn't need to look up from the wall you were practically staring at, to know that it was Cassie as she sat by the bathtub wall with a slight groan, which made you glance at her. It was clear the baby was in bed now.
Though surprisingly it was you who broke the silence first with a reluctant sigh. "I'm sorry about earlier, I guess I just got overwhelmed and-" "Hey, it's okay, I don't mind taking care of the baby here and there, we're both the parents, you know.."
"I know, but this is one of the few times the hospital doesn't call you in, you should be relaxing, but instead you're taking care of me." You scoffed, though she was quick to shut down that thought. "Uh uh, none of that, I'm the one who decided to take care of you and get you pregnant, which might i add, you're still glowing from it, I mean look at how shiny your skin is."
That made you snort and chuckle, something that made Cassie light up instantly with a grin. "There she is!" "Oh shut up!"
A/n² - oh how I love back scratches and intimacy without sex
